"Inspiring"

Sometimes you can write something
Look at it
Type it up.
Then the realisation
Slowly but sweetly
Rolls over you
Similar to a wave
Braking gradually
Over the pebbles
Under Brighton Pier
Just me nobody else.
It's my own voice
I can silently hear
Reassuring inside my head
Knowing I can put the poem to bed.
Secretly being a little proud
But not wanting to shout it out loud
Just a little Facebook sharing
With on mouse click
Wary of being thought of
A big headed prick.
The End.
Except...
For the time when
Someone else
Picked up their pen
Having read my attempt a prose
Inspired enough to
Have their own goes.
All I can say to you, Grant
Is bloody well played
You've put my attempt in the shade!
As you can see...

"English beach, not California;
Broadstairs
With sticks of rock,
Charles Dickens Bleak House,
Fish and chips et al.
Way over yonder,
No Pamela Anderson or Knight Rider in sight.
As for English beaches,
Think donkey rides
Pebbles and stones
kids building sand castles with cheap dollar shop buckets
Imported from Chinese sweat shops.
Piers (not Morgan, wanker!) with shitty sub par dangerous fairground rides
They wouldn't pass Magic mountain safety inspection
Populated mostly by old people who do't go on the rides
Who walk around in the summer wearing their whole winter attire
Whilst drinking copious pots of tea in very quaint English tea shops
Only in this land."

Oh dear...I'll get my coat!

Dulwich Poet 10th July 2013

(A little while ago I wrote a poem, this one, & posted it, under my real name on Facebook. A friend of mine wrote a response, by doing his own one, also on the seaside. he said it was his first poem since he left school in 1999, and he composed it by breaking down messages he had sent on Facebook. ).