A poem about camping, composed this summer 'observing and being observed' whilst camping!
Enjoy
Here is the transcription.
The Canvas Lords
Camp ground arrivals
The field of cocoons
Hatching pop up chairs and scores of tarps
More pegs skewering this stony grass than a voodoo heart
Go choose your pitch
As those watchers observe
Take your time
Don't loose your nerve
Tent now pitched
You've staked your claim)
You can pop up the half dome
And then the Wendy house too
And a suite of marquees might just do
Perhaps a little more tarp
For the east and west quarters
A game pen for the swing ball
And the squabbling daughters
Three fire pits
A full kitchen table
Caribena coffee cups
And mountaineering labels
Peppermint wind breaks now frame it all
Corralling kids, gazebos and the urbanite sprawl
So pop your chair
And take your place
That camper smugness
Fits easy on your face
So there you recline
Perusing the scene
Slowly recalling that infectious nomad gene
Distant from your working dissolution
But choose your moment wisely for your daily ablution
But then the multigrain Yakult swiggers come
Tanned and efficient the no-dig allotment scum
Bell-end tents and retro yurts their saviours
Iona Felix Theo become your brand new neighbours
Finally dawn arrives on the day of departure
A mixed delirium part ascension part rapture
Now stow it down
Fold it
Pack it
Bent pegs pulled
Wrap it
Stack it
The Big Bang theory runs in slow reverse
A hectare of canvas came out of that purse
Camping saints then bless your blisters
Past transept, alter and this holy mission
Your kneelers prayers have come to fruition
Boy Scout channeled
Miracle achieved
The Canvas Lord has risen
Do not be deceived
Christopher Jelley © all rights reserved