Tag Archives

icebergs

A SHIP OF FOOLS

The iron palace of electric light

steams into catastrophe and idiom,

a culture’s symbol of folly

and achievement.

The last, late sailing of the nineteenth century,

or the first of the next, it never arrives.

Unexpected, unheeded icebergs rise

from calm, dark seas.

The Captain loses face

and chooses death. The steerage,

having nothing to lose, gains nothing from death;

rushes from the vortex of the sinking ship

into frigid waters.

 

 

THE SWELLIES, AFON MENAI, ST VALENTINE’S DAY

Lovers are as mariners, navigators

in crowded, intricate sea lanes of

momentary loathing and lasting passion.

Pilots guided vessels into the straits:

from the north, between Trwyn-du’s dark rocks

and the wicked sands of Dutchman Bank;

from the south, between Abermenai

and Fort Belan over the Caernavon Bar;

and then through The Swellies – Pwll Ceris,

‘Pool of Love’ – where the surging high tides whirl

round Ynys Gored Goch, the wild waves

tawny and their foam white as drifting snow.

Lovers are as sailors in insane storms

and intimate calms, ever watchful

for icebergs and mutinies, heading always

to the Hesperides, course set forever

westwards into the sun.

 

 

 

WILDNESS

 August ’91, the Gulf War over, Kuwaiti oilwells  almost saved,

Kurds beleaguered, Marsh Arabs gassed…

 

From Schipol’s Duty Free, slow with tourists,

to Immigration at O’Hare, slow with Croatian refugees,

seemed like a long day with an early start…

 

But for icebergs still loose and multiplying

along Greenland’s uncompromising coast,

the  tawny, unmarked  miles of tundra,

the empty, unpeopled miles…