'Too Many Poets'

Chris Copping's mp3 sketch here

Key to authors' pseudonyms

I stood upon Belle Wharf and felt
The salt air on my face
I looked out to the open sea
And felt my pulses race.

Beyond the sprawling buildings sat
On gentle slopes of green
Beyond the masts of sailing boats
To mysteries unseen.

The open sea is calling me
I feel the urge to go
To follow dreams upon the wind
And leave the life I know.

I stood upon Belle Wharf and watched
The cockle boats all sail
To cast their hopes upon the mud
To harvest not to fail.

If I could only fly above
Their lights of green and red
Cast these shackles from my feet
Grow wings for heels instead.

The open sea is calling me
I feel the urge to go
To follow dreams upon the wind
And leave the life I know.

Procol Harum concerts in 2001: index page

Manchester: Palers' Convention

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