Stealer of chips
Shitter of shits
My clean car yesterday
White-washed this morning.

Calling angrily from chimney pots
Swooping at dog walks
Why are you still here seagull?
The herrings are long gone.

I saw them, in the museum
Worked by the fisher girls.
Split, gutted, cleaned, brined, smoked,
When this town had industry
And fishing was King.

Your poor parenting skills
Leave baby gulls in the garden
Being teased by cats
While you, like an aimless addict
Hang out on street corners
Picking at kebabs.

Your only use it seems
Is to look noble
When formed in wood
Painted in tourist shops
Destined for the toilet windowsill.

Do you miss the silver darlings?
The glint of memory
Wheeling in the salty spray
Screeching at the squalls.

Reasons then to fly in the wild air
Rising in the Eastern morning
Following the drifters
To greet the dawn and take the tide.


Image courtesy of



One comment

  1. They do get a bad press and I think they have earned it. I read stories of attacks in th gardens. Mums couln’t leave their toddlers while pegging washing out, stuff like that. That was eloquently penned and took off, much like the brd.

    Liked by 1 person

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