Compelled by Turner’s hand

The arts are a  real danger to my bones
Picasso drawings make my legs  give way
No, my dear,I  never  went when stoned
But only when  the Turner seas would sway

Deal to Dover, we walked  on white cliffs
Wildflowers in the grass our bodies kissed
Hot sun stopped  our joints from growing stiff
For too long we   had this seascape  missed .

Margate  homes his  Gallery  so fine
The edge of England,  complex Thanet skies
See  the whirling paint deride outlines
Mist floats out ,enveloping the eyes

Grasp the arm of  strong and   trusty man
Before you  drift ,  compelled by Turner’s hand