Tynemouth Beach and Remains

by Jack Little


Tynemouth Beach

For dad


“Do you remember the jumpy beach son?”

My dad pointed to some large rocks, used

for protecting the sand from sea.

“You used to play there…”

And I remember the crab pools and cold

salt sea of my days of being four.


Mum would search for sea glass,

while I clambered over castle rocks

and seaweedbed shells

“You don’t see me!” I’d shout

and dad would take my hands and swing

me over continents and back


like Indiana Jones carried on a zephyr

and brought back down to earth with

a particularly crunchy, crash of a wave.





A rumour swells up like stench,

Blood torn up and gutted

Red and smattered on crumble brick, slick

Bile rising false chords.


Invaded. Disfigured idols

A pulsing throng of brokendown flash cars

Scattered by gaping wounds, and maggot

Fed fat yes-men, businessmen with


Paralyzed, and eaten eyes

Knotted, buckled and annulled by

The smell of Earth scorched misery.

Abandoned rot. And lost.



Bio: Jack Little (b. 1987) is a British poet living in Mexico City where he runs The Ofi Press, a bilingual online poetry magazine and publishing company which organises regular poetry events. His work has been published in 3:AM Magazine, Warwick Unbound, Calliope Nerve, The Bubble, Eunoia Review and most recently in Blue Pepper Poetry. He also has forthcoming publications with Kerouac’s Dog, Drey, Wasafiri and Bakwa Magazine. In March 2012, Jack read at the Linares International Literary Festival in Nuevo Leon, Mexico. As well as his literary related activities, he also manages the Mexico national cricket team. www.theofipress.webs.com


Art by Judith Shaw