The tide comes in, a predictable alarm call.
The battered and faithful boat wakes up from the slumber of its sand encumbered bed
The fisherman, a salty fellow, sets sail racing the raucous gulls who make
A cacophony of noise like beggar children at play
While below the mirror surface, disorientated fish fruitlessly seek shelter from the familiar fate from above
Fortunately they're bereft of the awareness of numbers, else panic would become fear
A terrible thing to taste
The nets are cast like whirling dervishes through skillfully sculpted hands
Fairies momentarily tattoo upon the seas amebous body before absorbing away into translucency, waiting.
Then, patiently trawled and gratefully laden the boat sets homeward dancing its jig upon the sea feeling slightly taller than it was
No one will grow hungry today.
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Author:
Saxon Crow (
Offline) - Published: June 8th, 2021 00:07
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek, Jerry Reynolds, Fay Slimm., A Boy With Roses
Offline)
Comments6
I have a great deal of respect for those who tackle the sea in their boats and bring food back for others.
Good words SC.
Andy
Thanks GF. Me too! Life without monk fish! Eek!
A fine write SC.
With long words and everything
Oohh yes, cacophony, translucency, etc. Nice!
'The nets are cast
like whirling dervishes
through skillfully sculpted hands,
Fairies momentarily tattoo
upon the seas amebous body
before absorbing away
into translucency'..
fantastic imagery!
thanks for sharing dear poet
Thanks LB. Much appreciated 🙂
Loved your post and the imagery it portrayed.
Thanks mohan 🙂
A fine poem, S.C.
Thanks Jerry 🙂
What a fine tale of the sea and those who go down to it and such imagery that brings the scene so alive - - this must fly into my faves for future reads my friend.
I am very flattered and honoured Fay. Thank you
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