Where the tide licks a sandy beach
a running ripple
thins to wash a ring of rounded pebbles -
there, a muddy ribbon
trickles through brine rinsed trinkets
surged up as a slosh of time
from the oceans depth.
Here be the bones of seahorse dragons,
and the beached and bloated
pods of marine algae,
Fractured mollusk shells splinter,
carapace and claws swell
in a mutual dross,
a trawled-up flotsam
tossed upon
low spin drifting waves.
A sculptured driftwood
expressed into mythic forms
anchors its art where the wind combs.
Sometimes coins, both new and old, surface
to be pocketed once more.
Obscure metallic treasures knuckle
and poke-mark the shoreside
with their unanswered questions.
I walk an ankle-deep dawn light
shipwrecked on my own shores edge.
A seagull's homeless cry
keeps me fishing for new depths.
Categories:
trawled, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths
Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
Soaks in secrets, promise admonished
Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
Church canopy arch angel honours
Wing finger cool fires praise prancing
Laser selects sections, bark polished
Licked by flitting demure madonnas
Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical
Each fresh capes the chapel innocent
Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils
Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal
Doorway discloses disaster clandestine
Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
Shon hopeful on nymph number nine
3rd of July
Daintree Dancing
Categories:
trawled, allusion, bridal shower, fairy,
Form: Rhyme
The none affair
The celebration ran into a Dogger bank that had
been trawled of fishy life and turned into windblown sand
of the endlessly repeated.
Take-away food and Portuguese soap triteness was
the name of the monotony.
Red-eyed by watching tediousness in action, time for bed
hoping a dream of glory would restore disappointment.
Eight hours of pre-death, the thought landscape was dark.
The morning had cold sun on the verandah, a day had gone
never to return, swallowed up by the monolithic time
The celebratory bottle of wine collects dust on a shelf.
Categories:
trawled, absence, birth, birthday, faith,
Form: Vogon Poetry
Now see a fine display in market hall
Where fishmonger's stalls sell the freshest catch.
A world of wet white tiles and melting ice.
Seafood displayed, arranged in rank and file.
One Scottish salmon commands centre stage
Stretched out upon its own tray of crushed ice
And next to a few Icelandic haddock
Along with cod trawled from the Dogger Bank.
To one side are some plaice all flopped and flat.
Seems they are staring up with fixed focus.
A side display of small fry, placed parallel
And herrings heaped up in sad slump of grey.
Some calamari, tasteless rubbery squid
Are off stage with other seldom sold bits.
In the corner there's offal bin with heads,
Guts, skeletons and several layers of skin.
Take for your cat. Put pence in charity box.
A fine display we see in market hall.
Categories:
trawled, food, life,
Form: Blank verse
The red-throat trawled me to a shanghaied shore
then left me raw in split-sedated state.
A sense of morning meant the lamp lit late
and when I dream I taste a little gore,
but it was peaceful there, upon that shore.
And how I prayed it would disintegrate.
And for the waters to evaporate.
And for the dark to dredge the ocean floor.
And all then did. No one should be allowed
such icy fun: to hear whimpering whales
aware of demise, crushing coral, proud
no longer. But then the fisherman’s sails
at first glint of sun. The hawk circling back
to this, my tundra, that the desert fails.
Categories:
trawled, how i feel,
Form: Italian Sonnet
With Christmas nigh upon us,
The naysayers are out.
Again to cast aspersions,
On little brussel sprouts.
These iron laden taste bombs,
I jump to their defense.
My favourite Christmas veg,
Despite the flatulence.
The smell as they are cooking,
Some find so nauseating.
Not me though I love it,
I stand there salivating.
After Christmas dinner,
I trawled around the plates.
Gathering up leftover sprouts,
Just asking to be ate.
But there was a price to pay,
It was like a sonic boom,
The cat shot up the Christmas tree,
As the family fled the room.
Categories:
trawled, christmas, humorous, wind,
Form: Rhyme
I embarked on a journey of self-discovery
To find that where I began was also my destination
We would like to think that life has some magical equation
I have travelled across the sea and through eclipsed forest floors
I’ve climbed the highest peaks only to discover
That God must be higher
Trawled the abyss to discover that I have limitations
And that hell might not be below the surface
I studied human nature to find that I don’t fit into
The physiological make-up of the theorists
I’ve aged to discover that the fountain of youth
Is only within my mind
I’ve bled to discover that we all are red below the surface
I’ve loved only to find that it is accompanied by heartache
I’ve died and yet I cannot tell anyone
What lies afterlife?
Categories:
trawled, angel, beautiful, bible, birth,
Form: Free verse
One by one, my friends' accounts
Have all been getting hacked.
Likely there will come a time
I, too, will be attacked.
Where are all the rocks from which
These evil hackers crawled
To seek some suckers unaware
That they were being trawled?
With all this new technology
There's room for lots more scams
And unsuspecting souls get caught
In complicated jams.
I miss the good old days when crime
Was much more in your face
Than nowadays when scammers strike
But they don't leave a trace.
Categories:
trawled, technology,
Form: Rhyme
Her look begged a thousand begs,
Such that i could not reach
Her as she trawled the stoney beach,
For ragged drowned things,
Such that i could not hear
Her cold water screech.
Categories:
trawled, sea,
Form: ABC
I remembered the day I joined
Paradise it appeared to me
It can still be this way
But only if others can see
I am playing the blind man
I cannot touch, nor I see
As long as everyone is
Who they make out to be
I have trawled many a write
But it's the comments this blind man sees
For out there resides
Someone so different to thee
Many people talk to themselves
Some even answer back
But this blind man is just to clever
For out there, there's one who lacks
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/life-14.php
Categories:
trawled, depression, on writing and
Form: Quatrain
The Internet
Across the earth they cast a net
In which a worldly soup is met
The good the bad the in-between
The dark the light and greyish sheen
All jumbled in a mighty throng
The clever right, the woeful wrong
It is the same, or so I’m told
Just like the fisher nets of old
They trawled the oceans deep dark floor
And netted creatures by the score
Some fat and plump, a rich reward
Some dank and foul, tossed overboard
And so, be sure that when you stray
Along that road... the net’s highway
To use your brain and use it right
And cast the rubbish out of sight
Check all your facts, don’t use one source
Before your genius you enforce
For though the net’s a magic tool
You wouldn’t want to look a fool.
Categories:
trawled, funnydark, dark,
Form: Rhyme
The fish is a creature cold and wet
Hooked by line and trawled by net,
Easy to catch and yummy to eat
Fried in oil or seared by heat.
I must admit I eat my share
So my guilt I sadly bear.
Handless and legless they strive to survive
Yet they are loved more....Dead than alive!
-But-
Fish cannot scream
Fish cannot yell
The pain from a hook,fish cannot tell.
Fish cannot scratch
Most do not bite
They go to the pan with little fight
-But-
What a frenzy,what a fuss
When one of them devours us!
It's on the telly,it's in the press
"Each shark killed is a monster less."
It's not in the press,its not on the telly.
How many of them are in our belly!
-But-
If fish could scream,if fish could cry
If fish had fur or big brown eyes.
If fish were dry and nice and warm
We'd never do them any harm.
We'd think them cute,they'd get respect
They wouldn't 'get it in the neck'.
Protest groups would march the streets,
And fish would multiply in peace.
-But-?
Categories:
trawled, allegory, life, nature, fish,
Form: Personification
She no longer rules the waves,
no longer is heard the chink of ice
in gin glass beneath darkening Indian skies;
what jewels glisten in the corroding crown,
how happy now this happy breed who bows
collective heads and cries?
History’s pain trawled across the planet face,
when slaughter ruled and oppression demarcated
the only foreign policy;
exploitation and enslavement of the weak,
colonialism and the salvage rights
the tools of peace and democracy.
Empires of muscle, iron and discipline,
forged on the blood, bone and murder of millions,
so proud, so pleased as punch;
a bullish bite spreading wildfire rabies,
mad dogs and Englishmen
permanently out to lunch.
Empires of dreams, of glittering prizes,
home of the brave where freedom’s flame
burned naked and bright;
a cultural plague preaching death, destruction,
fed on subservient carcasses
in sinister shadows of night.
And now in dying feel-good days,
clinging to glorious dreams of the past,
of powder, bayonet, cannon and gun;
achievements in the global butcher’s yard
may be all that remains in bearing witness
to the setting of the sun...
Categories:
trawled, history, social, time, happy,
Form: Narrative