‘twixt valley
And hills,
The halfway lock,
Sitting closely to
A long abandoned mill,
Contemplates
Long ago working boats
Metamorphing
Into brightly painted leisure boats.
Pike House Lock
Has seen it all
In its two centuries,
And will continue to,
Until its story ends.
©Alan McKean
Photos ©Joe Kershaw
(End of season)
Shadows of games gone by
Shades of the final “Last over”
Empty wicket
Empty benches
Empty pavilion
Lonely scoreboard
Kit washed (maybe)
Kit bag stored
Seasonal matters
All subject to Winter’s ravages.
Ghosts of the cricket season
Hover
Around the boundaries,
The bar,
And the memories
Of a summer now gone.
©Alan McKean, August 2026
Here is a series of photographs recently taken at Orford in Suffolk. Orford Quay, on the River Ore, was awash (sorry!) with boats – a mixture of leisure and working boats, but what caught my eye was a small number of dead and abandoned boats on the river bank. These boats gave rise to the poem below the pictures.
Sailed my last tide
Caught my last catch
Ferried my last bird watchers.
The Ore’s ebb and flow
Are no longer mine.
My North Sea adventures
Now go to others.
Other craft
Follow in my footsteps,
But I remain in the banks of The Ore,
A reminder
To my successors
Of their future
©Alan McKean, July 2026
Lazy water
In lazy July.
Slowly
The North Sea
Becomes
The Alde
Ere
The Alde
Becomes The North Sea.
Orford Ness
Watches both
With indifference
©Alan McKean, July 2026
random photograph
bird sat on my garden fence
checking the menu?
Aided
By the winds
And waves,
The cold sea
Slowly shapes
The shoreline,
And its inhabitants lives,
As its
Headlands
Cliffs
Inlets
Bays
Rocks
Stones
Pebbles
Are eventually
Returned
To the sand.
©Alan McKean
misty risen stones
call down through the centuries
battles now long gone
Canal sits,
Waiting, and contemplating
The centuries,
Whilst its Narrowboats
Move slowly
Over the dark waters,
And only
Contemplate decades.
They lead a simple life
©Alan McKean
Written on towpath of Rochdale Canal at Mytholmroyd
park bells
tintinabulatory
spring walk
What secrets sit within,
What treasures lie
Behind the ancient
Ossified smile
Of the pirate’s box
A treasure map,
A horde of gold,
A secret will,
An old love letter,
The Devil’s smile
Or simply
A child’s toy
Who knows………
Be what you will
©Alan McKean
