Victorian Shoes on Ogmore Shores
Poems by Maharaja Miku the Bard Bear
BBC News Article - Victorian Shoes wash up on Ogmore Beach
She walked the Ogmore shore at dawn, her breath a silver thread,
Christmas sun spilled molten gold where sea and sky were wed.
She paused to hear the quiet waves hum soft, familiar tunes,
When something in a rock pool glowed like tiny sunlit moons.
She leaned in close, her heart amused at what the tide would choose
A nest of ancient, salt kissed shoes dreaming in the pools.
The Causation
Maharaja Rich of Ogmore, patron saint of period swagger,
Had long dreamt of Victorian finery, frock coats, cravats, the works.
But tailors were slow, and patience was not his strongest chord,
So he did what any self‑respecting eccentric would do:
He converted his old brass resonator guitar
Into a time machine tuned to open wormholes in open D.
One wrong strum , a slightly flat F# !
And the machine hiccupped.
Instead of summoning waistcoats and top hats,
It tore a shimmering rift across the centuries.
Through it poured thousands of Victorian shoes,
Marching like confused crustaceans,
Shuffling with every tidal ebb and flow
As if the moon itself had become their cobbler.
Meanwhile, in a soot‑smudged corner of Victorian Britain,
A humble shoesmith named Barnaby Twill
Stared at a crate that had materialised in his workshop
With a soft whoomp and the faint smell of sea salt and slide guitar.
Inside:
Neon‑soled running shoes.
Air‑cushioned.
Ergonomic.
Stamped boldly with the brand:
MAHARAJA BLUES™
Stride Across Time.
Barnaby blinked.
He poked one.
It glowed.
He whispered to himself,
“Either I’ve inhaled too much boot polish…
Or the future has terrible taste.”
© 2025 Miku Sinha. All rights reserved.
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