top of page
  • Writer's pictureTony Frobisher


I live far from the sea. But as a boy, I spent regular holidays with my grandparents in Eastbourne, on the south coast of England.

The sea always drew me in and I would stand for hours throwing pebbles into the waves, listening to the crunch of the pebble beach, smelling the salt on the breeze and watching stormy waves crash over the bandstand and into the pier.

But a couple of things always struck me.

The waves were endless, there was no on off, stop start and the sea always seemed to be any colour; except blue.

Look to the sea

Always changing always the same

A rhythmic beat pounding sanded beach

With infinite relentlessness

Waves spill carelessly

Pebbles scattered pushed then pulled

Water reluctantly receding

Swallowed by returning wave

Time flows as tides come then go

Sea calm, quiet in tranquil serenity

Or raging, tempestuous and spiteful

Before stilled and spent of force

Sea grey sea green ne'er blue

Nature's palette dulled and cold

Brushed strokes of whitened foam

Painted in watercolours ill defined

7 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
Anticipation__Walk through winter trees_
bottom of page