I am a child of the Sargasso.

My clarion sounds unheard.

Seagulls hover overhead for any

sighting of their nourishment.

Below a tiny crab perchance might

serve for now, a momentary snack,

or perhaps a periwinkle with a

conch shell coiled upon its back.

But who is the Governor of our

seaweed fields, our punctual ocean

tides, allowing us to filter nutrients

in this delicate protozoan world.

One cannot give an answer for the

truth, since ship wrecks come and go

with transient time, and undercurrents

follow fields of old magnetic floes.

Some claim they hear a ship’s bell

clanging out a steady rhyme – but as

for time, and tales that Trident tells,

I baulk to speak about such happenings.

Although I see the flying fish darting

above the waves when barmy breezes

blow and whisper, Holy Cow, whatever

will our universe come up with next?




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John Coopey

Tue 10th Mar 2020 23:16

On my river bank the University of Hull has installed underwater equipment to monitor the migration of lamprey. But I say "Keep them out! Get Brexit done!"

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Don Matthews

Tue 10th Mar 2020 22:31

Suddenly before me
One foot into the sky
Looking at me sideways
With it's sideways eye

One foot above water....
Flying fish?

I thought it was a dragonfly
Holy Cow what next
I looked at it much closer then
A drone of no fixed sex

Well I'll be......


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Paul Sayer

Tue 10th Mar 2020 21:34

The Architect of the universe is full of surprises.’

What next indeed Philipos. Quite a sojourn.

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keith jeffries

Tue 10th Mar 2020 18:09

Exquisitely written as the reader is taken out to sea as soon as one begins to read it.
Well done and thanks

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