Where muddy waters flow Where only grasses grow Still roam the souls you know Of Blackwater Men. Blackwater Men will never fade away They still return on two tides every day They come and walk again To view their past domain It's where their bones are lain These Blackwater Men. Long, long these souls will haunt the salty shore Until the time when there's a world no more Then these past men will ride On one last foaming tide To heaven and there reside as Blackwater Men. We who live are richer by far Because they went before And trod the paths of time They ploughed, they fought, they prayed And gave the place some meaning. So now as we follow Let us bless these people Who made the river work and Sowed the seeds of life Which we take with us each day And so we join and say Amen. October 2000 The above may not seem to flow well but it was written to be set to music. This has been done by Clive Smith of South Woodham Ferrers and is a choral work within a suite.
Tag: Shore
Big Wind
What if a great big wind came and picked us up and dropped us on some lonely shore? Would we try to leave or make it home? Could we stay there ever more? The experience would change us for ever. We might adjust and stay without regret. We might just sit and search our souls and be as happy as we can get. Shall we wish for a big wind to change our lives if our 'humdrum' needs rearranging? We could relish the new challenge, and start our bored lives achanging.
Safe Passage to Tollesbury
I had to move her now Because the winter was here Sailing her was usually fun When the sun was there to cheer. Blowing wind and heavy rain The boat is severely tossed around Hold on, grit my teeth, look out! We must not go aground. There are no lighted buoys No shapes upon the shore No moon or stars to help us and daylight is no more. I've been so foolish, will we make it? I feel that I have sinned Then a calmness overtakes me as I smell wood smoke on the wind. Can you smell it? I asked my friend Just a trace on the air Someone is burning wood on the shoreline over there. I know where to head if the shore is on the right Keep straight ahead and find the flashing beacon light. There it is! Just a little more Then hang a left into the creek Shine the torch - look there's the quay - And the wind has ceased to shriek. The bonfire burner on the shore Will never ever know The comfort he rendered two frightened men Who were lost in a winter blow.
Black Salt Sea
Near eleven on a still summer night I gazed at the ink black tide. A large bright moon, quite low in the sky Found Ghosts that were trying to hide. The water moved like pitch, just warm Going fastest at the core The Ghosts were running hard Toward my home on the distant shore. For this was the night the spirits came Rising up from the black, black sea To strike terror in the heart of one man And tonight that man was me.
September Memories
As an onshore wind moves the trees
With the smell of seaweed on the breeze
Memories return just as they please.
Ah September!
Past holidays return with a leap
Spent here in Autumn when quite cheap
So exciting he couldn't sleep
In September.
A young boy not yet seven
Knee deep in mud soft and even
Thinks he's just arrived in Heaven
Great September.
This is the best place he ever saw
There's freedom here - no playground law
And he doesn't even know he's poor -
It's just September.
Years later and this man reflects
On life and love, wealth and sex
And why life now is so complex
Not September.
When he can walk this beach no more
And journeys to a higher shore
He will meet those pleasures gone before
Again September.
The river Blackwater in Essex is in my soul. I was taken to Mersea Island every Autumn when a child and still sail in the area now in my middle seventies. One bright Blackwater morning while walking on the foreshore this poem came to me.
As I See Things 