Swallowed by the Sea
Sailing swiftly along the salted seashore, Your whiteish throat flanks brown streaks That accentuate comedic orange brows. Amongst saline marshes and sunken reeds You build
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Sailing swiftly along the salted seashore, Your whiteish throat flanks brown streaks That accentuate comedic orange brows. Amongst saline marshes and sunken reeds You build
Your recent absences have become More pronounced; The late spring evenings are no longer Alive with the industry of your approach, And the flowers in
Beneath the shimmering surface of the sea Lie tiny specks of hope, Inconsequential fragments of life That work tirelessly to remove The years of smut
You slide fluently through cool, coastal waters, A balletic grace with unparalleled force That silently slips between the spheres As a distant rumble announces time.
You struggle for breath. And reach towards the sun With yellowed fingertips; Stunted roots Can no longer drink The static water that was Once a
Within the arid heart of shifting sands, A swathe of ancient microbes team with life; When gluts of unseen rainfall drench these lands, They promise
Within the temperate climes of wooded land, Disturbances are part of nature’s flow; But as the rising heat gets out of hand, The fingerprints of
Across the dusty plains of southwest lands, An empty dish lies buried in the sands; With taps turned off to nature’s moist supply, As climates
With rising heat, the Earth begins to bloom, The emerald hues a fervent sign of spring; And every breath of air that’s taken in, A
As echoes of past conflicts start to fade, The dissipating fog lays bare what’s planned; Whilst treaties dance upon a blunted blade, With bloodied fist