And voices singing out of empty cisterns and exhausted wells
~
is it life . . .
being underwater
how
does a man
breathe
perhaps
he doesn’t
and perhaps
he isn’t
but
it feels as though
he is
suspended
above the ocean floor
moving arms
and legs
to propel himself –
to swim –
raising eddies of brown
and glint
from the sand
as he moves
fish
are loud creatures
there is sound
when they
swim
they can be heard
eating
chewing morsels
crunching coral
worms
in their hollow tubes
hide
in their self-made
depths
anemones tickle
and retreat
tentacularly grasping
small prey
schools swish
in synchronised twists
and turns
this way . . .
that
eluding
the big vibration
that glides past
all open smile
and razored teeth
a man
can swim
in this place
unaware
he is doing so
uncertain
if he is really
here or
dreaming
~
Reblogged this on OPENED HERE >> https:/BOOKS.ESLARN-NET.DE.
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Thaks for sharing, Michael.
Hope you have a good day and week!
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Very cleverly written, Frank, This poem is both an educational tool (no pun intended), and tantalises the imagination. Loved it
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Thank you Claire. It seems to be coming along. That was poem #274, so only about 35 to go. A lot and a little.
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The wild beasts are more challenging than the ocean itself, imo.
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It’s very challenging, for sure. Thank you for commenting.
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