drowning 1

how strange it is indeed

for a man who loves the sea

to be found here

hold secure

cargo in shambles

none the richer

for his travels

last night leaning


over her

dangerously close now

drinking the spray

breathing deep

the smell of her brine


til it drips from his nostrils

he is waiting

and she an

overpowering wave

does not come

leaves him there


and dry


in the    end

as in the beginning

he is unsurprised

by weathered fingers clutching

to the railing

the final mutiny

the deepest


for a man

who loves the sea

Author's Notes/Comments: 

a response to my brother, the author of the inaugural drowning poem

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Eric Cockrell's picture

beautufully writte. your use of imagery is superb. the telling of this tale from the 'third person' makes this poem particularly effective. eric