Thursday, 4 August 2011


This is why I nearly didn't make it much past my 19th birthday

Amidst a sultry warming
three boys, stood
in the thrall
of a Devon dawning,
with no words of warning
saw no cause
to fear
the sirens snare calling.

Surf gently boiling
trimming the shore
with silver pearls
then throatily yodelling
and backs arching
three boys
cast their bodies
into the brisk and brining

blue, who’s welcoming
embrace extorts
gleeful gasps
with her cooling.
Arms now wheeling
three boys
set their sights
on a distant rocky shoring.

Bare, hot feet dancing
on baking crust
they fashioned
a clumsy landing
and while lizard basking
three boys
fail to grasp
the tide was swiftly changing

Where there was nothing
two vivid flags
now fiercely
fly, extolling
the limits of swimming
a zone where now
three boys
can see they’re clearly breaching.

Panicked hearts racing
they throw themselves
at safeties shore,
arms and blood pumping
but with riptide pulling
each drive alee
three boys
foresee their drowning.

With the last breath gasping
of a final push
they hit the beach,
landed fish flopping,
lungs stretched to bursting
where three boys see,
in thankful eyes,
no words need speaking

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