The Victorian Pier

Sauntering on the planks,
boats out at sea,
umbrella in my hand,
the grey hanging high.

An old pebble beach,
strolling along the esplanade,
admiring the Italian gardens,
Victorian splendour in autumn.

Holes in my shoes,
the smell of rust,
the smell of salt,
waves dance below us.

Fishermen in the drizzle,
the Pavilion’s history echoes,
empty benches seat ghosts,
the pier their host.

12 thoughts on “The Victorian Pier

    • tis a glorious smell and sight to behold… i love being by the sea. the next time it snows i’m going down to the beach… it’s something i’ve always wanted to do… don’t ask me why lol

      • We share that love. There is something in the lull of the waves so calming. Such beauty to behold. It makes me feel small. It makes me feel glad.
        I hope you will share that view of a snow caped sea. 🙂

  1. I was a member of a trust that restored an old Victorian pier and brought it back onto the Admiralty charts, so this poem really resonates with me. They were wonderful structures and became an integral part of every seaside experience.

    • It wasn’t Penarth Pier by any chance? lol

      I love old piers, if i had more self confidence i would learn some sort of Victorianesque entertainment or street performance (a punch & judy show, playing the accordion, mime, or something along those lines etc) and i’d spend my summer collecting coins in an old flat cap 🙂

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