"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
At the bottom of the ocean, In a mariner’s trench so deep That Hillary could have climbed it, We pray that we will find silence. So carefully we tap the phones, A titanium-encased bug That we place in the ocean’s heart So that we can find its stillness. Yet even here, beneath the … Read more
With drips and bursts and streams from their blowholes Beluga whales blow bubbles in the sea; The air encases liquid as it roles Languidly from their choice of cavity, And even though the whales seem quite carefree The different bubble types reflect their mood, With drips and mouth rings playful as can be; When shocked … Read more