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Poetry is an activity is great for helping with our mental health and wellbeing. Having ago in a blue space helps relax the mind and your creativity flow.

A few tips to get started

1. Getting a feel for writing. A great place to start is reading poetry and why not sit and do this by the water. Read different styles but don't be afraid to write in a way that you understand and use words you ordinarily use.

2. Watch, Listen and Learn. Watching or listening to people writing poetry is a brilliant place to start. You can research where live readings happen local to you. Also the internet is a brilliant place to watch live recitals or recorded ones.

3. Just start. People often get stuck on the first line or bogged down with a poem being perfect. Allow for imperfections and remember you can keep tweaking a poem to perfect it as long as you want. Why not sit by the water and give it a go.


Big Title


I sit in my boat watching swimmers go by
Some pootle for pleasure, others prep for a TRI
Some of them chat as they do their breaststroke
Together they enjoy a gossip and a joke
Some of them crawl as fast as they can
They think they are in, another Ironman
Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe
Then check out their Strava for what they achieve
Some of them move slowly with their tow float
Looking over longingly at me in my boat
Brightly coloured swim hats bob from afar
Some noisily kicking, some stay where they are
Whatever they do it really doesn’t matter
Floating or training or relaxing with chatter
As long as they are swimming and all stay afloat
Then I’m happy to be a lifeguard in my boat


Mine was from a dodgy guy in a surfing shop in Bude.
I said I’d buy a proper one when savings had accrued.
There’s loads of time; I know I’m right because I am The Dude.
As I prowl along the beach I’m full of attitude.
By gorgeous girls in funky cossies hoping I’m pursued.
In this brand new surfing suit I feel I am The Dude.
But alas I leave the beach in disappointed mood,
My wetsuited euphoria begins to come unscrewed.
A twinge of doubt assails me: perhaps I’m not The Dude.
Between the skins and wetsuit people is a constant feud.
Sometimes the taunts and arguments can get a little crude.
I do not join in with this: I think I am The Dude.
I thought I’d sign up for a race, and there we stood and queued.
We plunged off in a scary scrum with curses loud and lewd.
I tried not to join in with this, striving to be The Dude.
It seemed to me that my new suit was to my body glued.
The freezy water did its best to enter and intrude,
And as it did I less and less perceived I was The Dude.
The sad truth is that I came last in a seething multitude.
I pitifully struggled as I sloshed and skewed and slewed.
I was the very opposite of what you’d call The Dude.
I detest the evil suit to which I now allude.
I feel I’ve been extruded and then too cruelly chewed.
It seems that now I stand no chance of ever being The Dude.
And so I swapped to trunks, tight, dazzling, many hued.
To qualify to look at them you mustn’t be a prude.
And now, again, I start to think: I still can be The Dude.
But when I took them for a spin, again I wasn’t wooed.
The comments were not just unkind, but verging on the rude.
Now I’m really losing hope: I’ll never be The Dude!
So as I settled back in despairing lassitude,
Good news from the North and a Skinny Dip ensued.
Perhaps I still can, even now, aspire to be The Dude.
Picture a pretty beach, with abandoned garments strewed,
Nude I spring out from the sea, and totally renewed.
At last, I can with safety say: Oh Yes! I am The Dude!

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