'A FISH SALE ON A CORNISH BEACH' by Stanhope Forbes, accompanied by my words...

 A Fish Sale On A Cornish Beach…

(From Stanhope Forbes’ painting, 1884-85)

All heads are covered at low tide

By sou’westers, hats and shawls, 

Whilst the auctioneer rings his shrill bell

To encourage what feels like an insular and communal

Activity: the bartering on the catch to sell, 

Laid out upon sand bereft of plastic waste

And by herring gulls unencumbered.

The pace is sedate, the aura subliminal

As the fleet of luggers lies offshore,

Sails a-tugging in a sea-breeze, though not now in haste…

The serene trio posed in the foreground,

Near the listing skiff for carrying ashore

The fresh, white fish from the haul,

Contrasts starkly with the activity of the drab extras, 

The supporting cast trading in the background.

Yet the spotlight falls on just those three

Dulling the the attraction of a drab, grey sea…

The bearded line-fisherman looks almost contemporary,

Whilst the woman wearing a straw hat ponders, 

Shoulders warmed by her attractive shawl.

The apron of pale turquoise blending

With her companions’ skirt, ending

Below an apron, as she leans wearily

Against the grimy rowing boat, tarnished,

It appears. Yet the curious daylight deflects

From the catch and the shoreline and reflects

The route of the harvest to the upturned basket seat

Of the woman, right, chin upon hand, in contemplation.

She bargains, she trades, she bids for the trawl

Against the seaman’s placid haggling, in his bid to sell,

Which contrasts with the hustle of the auctioneer and his bell. 

And the fleet of luggers tarries offshore,

Sails a-tugging in the sea-breeze, now in anticipation…

Pete Ray

7th July 2022

This painting took a good while for Stanhope Alexander Forbes to complete…

I like the fact that he was hindered by only being able to paint when there were grey skies and when the tide was out, which was added to by the  difficulty of the accessibility of models… 

Such a fine study of Newlyn life in the 19th century…

 

 

NEVER MORNING WORE TO EVENING BUT SOME HEART DID BREAK by Walter Langley, accompanied by my words...

 Never Morning Wore To Evening But Some Heart Did Break...

Broken.

Eyes averted from the scene,

Covered by calloused palms,

Elbows her only support,

For the sympathetic hand’s ageing touch

Wasn’t felt...

Forsaken.

The bay looks silken in death,

Nestling like a lined casket,

Ripples quite sickeningly smug,

For its haunting threat has been

Cruelly dealt...

Stricken.

Tears ripped from the soul,

Quay wall dark in the mourning.

Fishing debris now grave goods,

For widowhood has hacked a 

Harrowing welt...

Pete Ray

My favourite Walter Langley painting, probably created upon the very sea-wall I regularly walk upon in Newlyn...

The sea looks like a coffin’s silken lining and it made me think...

THE LISTS ON NEWLYN QUAY: A NEW POEM TO ACCOMPANY WALTER LANGLEY'S PAINTING 'AMONG THE MISSING- SCENE IN A CORNISH FISHING VILLAGE, 1884'...

 The Lists On Newlyn Quay…

1884:

Even the weather seems dismal

As the fishing community mills around,

Horrified and for their losses weeping.

Disaster has once again affected

The lives of those left ashore,

Like the afflicted vessel, now wrecked.

The crowd becomes peripheral,

The list, scanned without a sound,

Holds all the attention, its power seeping

Into folks’ minds with grief infected.

And for families and friends stranded ashore,

Like the afflicted vessel, their lives too are wrecked…

She makes a cautious, initial approach,

For the discomfiting, impending

And helpless feeling of doom

Has rendered her ability even to hope, 

Redundant.

The final, timid and involuntary steps,

Hesitant,

Are taken towards the hand-written list,

Which upon her future will likely encroach:

She scans the names of the missing,

The feared drowned, the already dead

Until his name screams at her like a siren,

Confirming her man perished, the inevitable dread…

1917:

Once again the weather is dismal

As the fishing community gathers around,

Distraught about their losses and weeping.

Distress has again affected

The lives of those left ashore,

Like a sunken warship, now wrecked.

Others there become peripheral,

The list, read with barely a sound,

Commands all attention, its truth creeping

Into folks’ minds with grief blighted.

And for loved ones stranded upon an English shore,

Like corpses in trenches, their lives too are wrecked…

She once again makes a cautious approach,

The uncomfortable, disturbing

And hopeless feeling of gloom

Has again rendered her capability to hope,

Insignificant.

The final, knowing and hurtful steps,

Reminiscent 

Of a lifetime ago and another list,

Which forced her the world to reproach…

She scours the names of the missing

In action, the captured and the dead,

Until a name yells at her like a siren,

Announcing her son perished, the ultimate dread…

Pete Ray

1st July 2022

The work of Walter Langley is currently being shown at the Penlee Gallery, Penzance…

The above painting ‘Among the Missing- Scene in a Cornish Fishing Village, 1884’ refers to a lost fishing vessel and Langley painted a crowd of folks milling about near a list of the seamen missing at the local post office.

Langley had apparently been adversely affected by the loss of the lugger ‘Jane’ in 1880 off Mousehole, when six men and a boy died… 

Looking at the distressed woman, possibly mourning her husband, I wondered whether a similar situation might have arisen during 

World War I.

Perhaps the same woman, then around fifty years of age might have returned to another list to find out about her son’s fate, who was maybe missing too…