Friday, 26 June 2015


Sunset Drug

Dusk teetered dank
Over bare forearms
But not enough to chill, or shrug.

As I strode tentatively seaward,
A weakening, dropping sun lugged,
Then heaved billowing clouds of charcoal threat
And slipped below to loom incongruously
And over a shamefully timid Atlantic tide,
A willowy amber marker tugged…

Alone, I strode pensively landward,
Into dusk’s hovering charms,
As gulls flew the hurried exodus
To a fiery sun’s hallucinatory drug…

Pete Ray
June 2015

Strange walking alone on Mawgan Porth’s beach, just as the sun went down and dusk awaited. Gulls were attracted to settle on the shoreline…


Three Oystercatchers In A Mist Opportunity…

Engulfing sea-mist
Made one almost close one’s ears
With clutching, clinging hands
For protection and the prevention
Of seeping into and infiltrating one’s consciousness;
But then one looked up
And one’s incomprehensible fears,
With birds’ wrenching, winging flight,
Found redemption and the resurrection
Of gripping onto and re-establishing one’s assertiveness…

Pete Ray
June 2015

Mist descended...

Pleased to leave the sea? Nah...

Horrendous mist as I walked to the sea, where I was the only surfer to enter. Generally, at Mawgan Porth, when I enter the waves, an Oystercatcher flies above me, across the bay but this time, there were three. 
A Lifeguard then closed the beach to bathers and surfers. 


Friday, 27 March 2015

ECLIPSE: a poem by The Mowdog...


Gloom hung at the windows,
Dulling the bright prospect
Of a clear March morning.
Yet this was a deception,
For the moon was heaving, crawling
A dark path,
Eclipsing and blackening
A blinking sun, so appalled,
That its crescent, moon-like aspect,
Quite indignantly scrawled
A mere pallid, helpless warning…

Pete Ray
March 2015

The latest eclipse, just about pictured through high cloud in Solihull...

CASA TOMADA: exhibition @ Salford Quays... Poem by The Mowdog...

Casa Tomada

They swim across the ceiling
And hang, precariously, from walls,
Almost a metre in length:
Two russet casts of skulls,
Joined by bands of cloth,
Impregnated by dust from mines, feeling
With twigs, gnarled as legs
And a countenance and a proliferation,
Which simply appals...

They lurk, dull and unappealing
And horrify, displaced upon walls,
Invoking immigration, it appears:
Or preservation of life, in death,
Bodies wrapped in strips of linen,
Impregnated by Dead Sea bitumen, sealing
With a conscience and such salvation
In Amun’s glorious halls…

Pete Ray
March 2015

The Columbian artist Rafael Gomezbarros’s exhibition at Salford Quays…
Giant ants invoked thoughts of life and death, displacement and immigration.

I was immediately reminded of ancient Egyptian mummies, by the strips of cloth on the creatures, hence the analogy.

LOWRY'S 'Coming From the Mill' (1930): a poem by The Mowdog...

Coming From the Mill (1930)

Lean, slumped and cramped, they bent
Into an imaginary Salford wind,
But in truth, it was the grime,
The monotony, the dull, smoky town
And a criminal lack of ambition
I discerned in each figure’s abject mind…

Huddled forlorn and addled, they stepped
Uncertainly, yet homeward, slinking,
But in fact, it was the time,
The melancholy, the foul, murky town
And a subliminal lack of elation
I perceived in each worker’s burdened thinking…

Pete Ray
March 2015

Travelled to Salford Quays to stay overnight and watch Barcelona’s match @ Manchester City. Looked at Lowry’s paintings and was taken by this particular exhibit...