Not drowning, no.

She was already sunken before she got off land,

pelted by the pebbles,

sliced on the slippery rocks.

As soon as she tried to float the weeds

slip an emerald chain tight.

It was a journey that nearly choked her.

She fought to surf along with them

having learnt to fear everything


I have fished in these waters for many years,

watched helplessly for her to rise from the depth

gasping, trying again, trying again

tying herself to the task.

I consider her

as I hang my legs over the edge,

roll up in my weathered lips,

squinting at the dazzling reflection

of someone who survived the tirade, the pull of defeat,

held her breath and rode it out.


The seventh wave

The seventh wave is coming

The seventh wave

The seventh wave is coming for

The seventh wave

The seventh 

The seventh wave is coming for them


◄ Under The Hammer

Trees- be these. ►


Richard Wainwright

Mon 16th Apr 2018 19:09

Thanks mucker. X

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Laura Taylor

Mon 16th Apr 2018 13:32

I'm with you out there, roll up in my own weathered lips (beautiful line btw).

Nice nod (or is that wave?) to Stevie there, and like Martin, find the seven waves in the last verse to be really effective.

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Cathy Crabb

Mon 16th Apr 2018 11:00

Thanks very much Martin, I appreciate you reading this and your comments-


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Martin Elder

Sun 15th Apr 2018 14:41

I liked this more and more as I read it. The last stanza featuring the seventh wave is particularly effective.
Nice one

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