Barnacles
Glued fast onto its chosen rock
Twice daily washed by waves,
Antenna combing fluid world
For nutrients it craves.
So thus it grows hard calcine tube
Amidst colony of kin,
Link in the ocean’s food chain,
It shelters dark within.
This creature boasts no pearly shell,
No pleasing note does sing,
Man finds no pleasure in it -
Boat men have cursed this thing.
Through swirling tidal changes,
So many darks and dawnings,
It simply, in its shell, exists,
And then it too starts spawning.
© Pete Stratford 29.11.09
Patchwork
She lay on the sand, watching the race -
White sails cutting triangles out of a sapphire sky,
These were the colours and design she would use
On the patchwork quilt she was making.
She sighed - if only solving all her troubles
Was so simple!
Patchwork girl, lying on patchwork sand,
Watching patchwork sky -
In a patchwork world.
© June Maureen Hitchcock February 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment