Firewalker faith must be required
to hop this white-hot sand
and now all zones are tinged with fear
of sunburn or combustion.
We stretch naked in the dunes
until guards arrive on decency patrol,
ice-cream sellers melt away,
persistent surfers finally desist.
The sea's an aquarium of coke cans
anyway, and plastic in the throats of birds.
Interpid snorkelers beware:
just man-made stuff to find down there.
December 2022, Dear Reader Poetry, Editor Charley Barnes.
Sat 18th Mar 2023 11:26
Thanks guys for the positive words.
Hi Laura, haven't seen you around at open mics in Liverpool recently. I usually go Liver Bards first Tuesday of each month. It's 7.30 for an eight o' clock start (at Ma Boyle's) More info on the FB page or contact Ali Harwood for a slot.
The poem began as a doodle and then kinda fell into place.
Uilleam Ó Ceallaigh
Sat 18th Mar 2023 09:42
Than you John.
...an aquarium of coke cans.
A sad scene becoming increasingly familiar.
Fri 17th Mar 2023 17:29
A fine poem, John, with a lot in it.
Fri 17th Mar 2023 14:42
Hello John, long time no speak!
Great poem this. ice cream sellers melting away, ha. It flows, sounds amazing, lots of pertinent points in there. Loved it.
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