Why does the strident sea air always make me think of sinking ships? I see it now, the stern, stood wagging, like a ducks arse, wriggling as its slides deep to its cushy rest. And time shrouds it, the currents crusting the boney beams and bow with convivial heaving blades of weed for the eels to snuggle in. And eventually the skeletal beams become too provocative to treasure hunters. Alas, a fool's errand, that! No gold. Not one lost earring or, a even a glitching loot box Gashapon.
Robert Peel, British politician and father of modern British policing, died today in 1850.
Ernest Hemingway, American journalist, novelist and short story writer, died today 1961.
4 Comments Add yours
GOOD STUFF! THE SUNKEN SHIP PICTURE MAKES YOUR POEM REAL!
It’s a really long day today. I managed to name this Jun02 instead of Jul02… That’s what you get working too hard!!!
I really, really enjoyed this.
wow! the use of language to ignite this vivid imagery of something sinking but, so truly poetic, is beautiful!