The Ocean
When he heard, I had
been a seafarer he wanted to know about
been a seafarer he wanted to know about
the ocean, “write it
down for me,” he said...What nerve.
down for me,” he said...What nerve.
The ocean has many colours one of them is blue, sometimes it
is
is
like a mud and often
it is black with shattering of greenness like
it is black with shattering of greenness like
a spring day in the Alps. There are times when it a watery Swiss,
enormous white topped
waves bearing down on your ship that
waves bearing down on your ship that
shudders like a wet dog
and only nuns keep their calm they have
and only nuns keep their calm they have
lived a chaste life and expect to be handed a pair of wings
should
should
things go wrong. There
the is golden morning ocean, that blinks like
the is golden morning ocean, that blinks like
a million golden ducats are floating on its silky surface,
not to forget
not to forget
the moon casting its dark mystic upon the ocean trying to
drag you
drag you
into its strange
mysteriousness. I could not tell him this because at
mysteriousness. I could not tell him this because at
the time I was thinking of being in an oak forest chasing squirrels and
raiding their larders of nuts.
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