The Unmade Sea

Product of a storm-tossed dream

I stumble from my unmade bed

To watch the unmade sea

Where mighty swells surge to the beach

And crash and churn, cold fingers reach

To claim the souls of wounded gulls

That limp among the broken hulls

Strewn by the surf-washed quay

Offshore the banshees rage and howl

To whip the spindrift’s scream

The ocean’s blankets toss and tumble

Sheets of foam criss-cross and crumple

Grey-green pillows topped with blue

Heap upon heap of wrack and spume

Poseidon’s fevered dream

Beneath the churning, turbid waters

Below the roiling froth

Deep down where hungry shadows flit

Are silent screams when bodies bit

The crunch of shell and squelch of brains

Leave whispered hopes and scant remains

In silt and muddy broth

So as you drift in restful slumber

Spare a thought for those

Who lie beneath the ceaseless waves,

Know not the peace of earth-bound graves

But roll and rock in fitful sleep

Amid the nightmare of the deep

Their bones to decompose

And when along the sun-washed strand

A wreath of kelp you find

Remember then the maelstrom ferment

And spray and scud and tide and torment

From which the lords of chaos gripped

And tore that stem from rocks they ripped

With hidden lives entwined

Author's Note

First poem in 45 years! Deliberately 19th century style with strong stanza construction.

Reviews

[magenta24uk]

So beautifully written. Emotive and touches my heart as I read it. Wonderful.

[Donna]

Excellent poem! I hope there will be more to come!

[Relic]

I'm happy to be the first to review this. This is stunning work, to say the least. And the first one in 45 years? Incredible! Welcome to the site, I hope you'll be writing more.