Truth about Roots

Return to Skipsea Sands

We return to Skipsea Sands May 2016, the  last time I was here, April 2015 when I wrote a very different poem.

Today there’s no moon only the sun shining, warning off the heavy skies hinting at rain.  The muddied walls are beaten down but what do we have left, a gradient, upon the Sands. Soon the erosion will stop, but when? Will I still be here to tell the final chapter of the decayed lands?

There are still many caravans perched upon the edge of a crumbling world, that nature chooses to wipe away.  In 2014 there was café which is now only railings and debris. A time gone, but not forgotten, I have my photos and memories.

The rain shows itself as curtains from a far off land, yet we remain dry, sitting upon the sands of Skipsea Beach, East Yorkshire.


The muddied face of the coast, holds out a hand and sits firm, it shalt not be moved today. 

The skies are blue there is a shadow cast, but today is not going to be the day that the wall face will be crushed, jewelled in it’s glory of stones. 

 The seas move in and out, the skies wash over, the rains threaten, the shingles glisten, there is a sense of peace upon Skipsea Beach, it is our island.

The landscape is a photographers dream.

A natural beauty which will always change, yet remain the same.

The act of the caveman fell upon us, as we draw in the walls of the earth, knowing that they will be washed away, but the experience is worth it. Thank you.

Time to go home, but we will be back Skipsea Sands, don’t go away!


Thank you for reading. If you would like to see the photographs that inspired this poem, please click on the footsteps in the sand image.

Images taken by CWJS4D and Poem Written by CWJS4D Copyright 2016

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