Kevin’s year of verse

Kevin Moran unveiled his annual Willy Dolphin poem at the Willy Dolphins’ annual breakfast on Monday morning, 22 December, at the Rotunda.

Rotunda Cafe, Williamstown

I will share with you the chatter that went on throughout the year; the topics didn’t matter because none of it was clear. Messages by email, floated through cyber space; egos couldn’t be frail, it was about saving face.

Some jibes were insulting, others a slur; some sounded funny, adding a stir. Feathers were ruffled with “chooks on the block”; suggesting that others might be a coft sock. Names were called and challenges invited; it was clear, they were getting excited.

We discovered new poets and writers of prose; all very clever, as far as that goes. Tom was deep, which surprises, quoting wild wind and beautiful sunrises. The Willy Lit Fest sparked even more verse, the situation was getting worse. Lester penned enlightened prose, of the swimmers, whom he knows. He sent “home remedies” and health tips and updated news of his overseas trips.

The Big Bay swim was on the agenda; Tom would swim well if he was not on a bender. Lester was timid, didn’t think he’d survive; out in the sewer, where the jellyfish thrive.

After the swim on Australia Day; having a barbie is our special way, of celebrating a great occasion; to be reminded by the owners, it was an invasion.

Away from the beach we socialize; exchanging rumours that tantalise. One of note is of a flirt; labeled as “grandpa chasing a skirt”. He played Cupid, which may seem nice, but then he had to pay a price. Of the evils, which is lesser – upset a friend; or, lose your hairdresser.

Beach photo

We all lined up for the photo snap, when someone asked, “Who’s that chap?” – The line up on the shore that day, featured more than one odd stray. Mark came up with a scheme, to have T shirts with a theme. Willy Dolphins was selected; they just cost more than expected

Many events occurred in May; one was that the buoy got away. It hadn’t floated out of reach, recovery found it on the beach. Dan took shots when he came down, Vin declaring, “The buoy is back in town”.

Winter came with a blow and it saw absences grow. Kimba was the first we missed, and then Tom went on the list. By July the morning chill, was a test of the will. Pam persevered, so we are told and wore rubber gloves, to beat the cold. Then Search and Rescue one foggy day, stopped Chop heading down the bay. Pam saw a duck, or so she thought; wearing a snorkel, Vin was caught.

The lure of the islands took its toll; as Dolphins were struck from the roll. Dolphins travelled far and near; with regularity they’d disappear. Moonlit lagoons and places exotic saw Lester dress up in something erotic. Dancing around, “what an old tart” romance of the Solomons stole his heart.

His absence was long, and duly noted; his risqué emails often quoted. He added Hawaii to his travel plan, to see daughter Rosie win an ironman. Bali attracted Paul and Pam, while Kevin coffeed in Viet-nam. Chop played in Phuket a while; all returned with a smile. But John’s warm wishes from hot places left us with sad, long faces.

Rice fields in Sapa

Rice fields in Sapa, Vietnam

A pair of comedians in dressing gowns pranced around like a pair of clowns. They weren’t in for long as they felt the pain, you can be sure we won’t see them again.

Pat tipped an ice bucket on his head, accepting the challenge is what he said. He put it to Kev, who did the same, out of fun to play the game. Vin posted a blog to spread about town, saying “one warming up and one cooling down”.

PaddyIceBucket2

The early dawns are always topical, now palm trees make it look tropical.

With the year now at an end, we wish happiness to you my friend.

Quoting Tom of what he might say, “The sunrise paints the start of another day.”

 

Williamstown beach

 

– Kevin Moran, 22 December 2014

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The buoy is back in town

Headline by Andy

Photos by Dan

Buoy resurrection by Holdfast Marine

Buoy resurrection

After about a week stranded near the end of the groyne and then about another week up on the sand, the Williamstown buoy is back in town. Holdfast Marine set to work at low tide on Saturday 23 August. Danny Buoy Wade caught some of the action with his trusty camera.

Buoy oh buoy.

Buoy oh buoy.

Close to the sea

Man at beach

Photo by Karen van Wyngaarden

He wakes up at dawn. Puts on his togs. Pulls on his Willy Dolphins windcheater. Slips on his thongs. Drapes a towel around his neck. Collects swimming cap and goggles.

Walks out the door. Down the laneway, across the Esplanade. Less than a minute.

He pulls off his windcheater. Slips off his thongs. Takes off his towel. Places them by the steps where Roundy used to leave his shorts and t-shirt and runners.

Into the water. Not out to the buoys. Not in the shallows. In-between. Dee enough. Strong swimmer. Knows this water. Knows this beach. The sand, the rocks, the fish. The past. The present. The temperature.

A man close to the sea.

Howling by Kevin Moran

WINTER’S HOWLING WINDS

Howling winds as banshees cry

rolling clouds fill the sky

rumbling bubbling trouble unfolding

dark and threatening drama beholding

expectancy of danger near

anxiety builds to fuel the fear

rain lashing penetrates

spraying soaking isolates

waves pounding shoreline foaming

not a soul out there roaming

chill embraces senses numb

ominous signs Winter’s come

 

Kevin Moran, Willy Dolphin

 

 

Roll, wind, roll by Tom Cannon

This week the wind’s been from the north, and the west. Here’s a reflection about wind from the south.

 

Watching the wind roll from the South catching sails and hurtling craft forward.

 Where is my wind that will fling me forward to dance across the waves of expectation

 Taking me to a safe harbour tied to someone’s heart not being torn apart

 The wind blows catching the salt bush causing the whistle through the trees

 My sails still furled

Tom Cannon