Adorned with a proud bearing and robust stance
With a noble expression, such a decisive prance.
Owners of the skies, driven by sights and smells.
To soar so high, sailing above the seafront hotels.
Take a classical jaunt, to march along the rooftops,
Keep a keen eye out – for tasty food slops
Slashing, poking and tearing at plastic bin bags
Competing for food scraps and smelly rags;
Always looking for something yummy to eat.
Stomping through the rubbish with your big pink feet.
Takeaway fried chicken bones – you drop on my roof
Head up, chest out, with demeanour so aloof;
Wrenched with such intense indifference and due aplomb
That French girl’s chips on the pier, I saw you dive bomb,
And me, when out for a seaside stroll
You nicked my scrumptious sausage roll.
I pontificate much, and all else that’s been said
Still haven’t forgotten, the time you pooped in on my head.
Forever squawking, Yeah, you noisy birds
Our bonding in-kind, see I sculpture into words.
Now couples – be Hummingbird, Gull or Crow
They defend their tenancy with furious gusto,
Early in June their babies to be born
Gray, woolly, confused, need-a-cuddle fore lawn.
So vulnerable, so small and utterly defenceless
Initially tripping and stumbling relentless,
Onto life’s busy motorway – time is on loan
Cruel winds of existence penetrate to the bone
To such yapping and loud squawking
What a commotion, what a clamour, they’re talking?
First to stagger then to waddle so strong
Vying for parental attention – yes, all day long
Yet so soon to be taken in flight, in the extreme
To embrace the open sky gliding on the airstream;
With the sun on the wings they soar to the celestial dome.
Immersed in the freedom – the fresh blue firmament of home.
Not bothered with the baggage of human things
The plastic baubles like jewellery rings,
No jealousy, no insurance, no safety raft
No credit card, no overdraft;
No mortgage, car nor internet, no TV
No shackles of – anxiety.
Always, just scavenging with poised regal grace
Eating the leftovers – from the bloated human race;
Plotting and planning your next food endeavour
You crafty sea chickens, I find you most clever.
And ignoring the traffic wardens and street cleaners too.
While staking out the noodle bar, they know what do
Just looking for something – yummy to eat
No, no don’t shit on my bench, it’s my poetry seat.
But life, as for any species can be so cruel
No answers to provide – that’s indeed the rule
Injured by bastards in cars, left in the gutter to die
My heart grows heavy with a sorrowful why?
One your own or with your mates in a crowd
Nature’s buoyant, when you are most loud.
Would be Brighton’s loss – unless you are heard
Oh! Delight undeniably, such a wonderful dignified bird.
