There are gardens built on bedrock
in the sea. Polyps, anemone
petrified, prettified
some Gardens of Rest, weed-strewn,
where voyagers, stopping off mid passage
mingle with mariner, merchantmen
and bold buccaneer.
Silhouettes like Gothic follies
penetrate the gloom, ruins all akimbo.
downed by storm, and war
and wreckers covetous of consignments.
Ships decked in Midas metal, cyphered plans,
captains' logs and old world maps
In this sea-grass tangle of centuries
in perpetual motion
multitudes quick-flip wheel and turn
silvery as murmurations. Raptors
hunt and ride the thermal pools
and far below, the constancy
of carrion crews, cleaning
up the currents.
Here on the tideline, I search
the rise and fall of relics
those aiming too high, netted,
scavenged and gasping for air
and all the bones and shells they left behind.
For Lilian’s Poetics prompt @ dVerse she has given us free reign with a poem about the sea/ocean.
PoetryPix 