Act 3, Scene I

At high tide the curtain falls
rocks disappear
the coast is smoothed out, ready
Beneath the water, behind the scenes
a second sky
the sea lettuce
sways and fish dart in preparation
anemones are all tentacles
reaching, groping
keeping time to the
beat beat backbeat beat backbeat
of the waves – a rehearsal of repetition

Rock pools reappear
as the tide rolls back
a blue theatrical curtain
reveals the next act
the sea lettuce lays limp
flaccid on the rocks, slick underfoot
– victim of a tragedy at the end
of the previous scene
jelly domes stand in
understudy of anemones
children squeal
amongst the weed-slippery pools
– an animated audience –
to find the coral red seastar
sucker-foot walking
amid the shells,
centre stage is now hers.

splashing

Hi Everyone,

Here is a poem I'm thinking of submitting to a new Literary Journal called Esprit de Corps.
Cheers,
Deb


Splashing

ocean calling backward and forward
indecision; the curse of not knowing
sand sticks to wet feet
splashed in shallows and shells

indecision, accursed not-knowing
dash of vodka and tonic
splashing shallows and shells
seastars cling under cocktail umbrellas

splash of vodka and tonic
slice of lemon for garnish
seastars take cover under cocktail umbrellas
neck to knee in hysterical giggles

slice of lemon for garnish
- a fishy nightmare soon forgotten
neck to knee splashing in giggles
wash of the tide drags you away

murky nightmare soon forgotten
of ocean calling backward and forward
as the wash of the tide drifts me away
and sand clings to wet feet