Not A Wise Choice

I'm not sure that the Morecambe tourist authorities will approve of Max's poem, but it paints a vivid, yet affectionate, picture of the decline that afflicted the English seaside resort once the package holiday arrived.


Funny Literary Poems


Nostalgic poems


Remembering Morecambe Prom

Let us go then, you and me,
To where the sun sets red upon the sea,
Let us go to where the shrimps cluster thick,
The hotdogs sizzle and the toffee apples stick,
On Morecambe Prom.

Let us wander in the derelict aisles of Frontier Land,
Where the Asda store towers where we walked hand in hand.
On the prom where the women come and go,
Talking of casual encounters, of thrust and suck and blow,
On Morecambe Prom.

Let us promenade past the windows of lonely men in kiss-me-quick hats,
Of blue-rinsed landladies putting out food for sleepy, slinky cats.
Let us walk along the beach where the mermaids sing,
The lovers kiss and the jewellers bling,
Where the Odeon projects “I Love You” up large upon the screen,
On the rotting buttresses of the pier, decayed, deceased, obscene.
On Morecambe Prom.

Copyright © Max Scratchmann. All Rights Reserved

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