Boy attempts to swim
by tynedaile
You threw your whole body at the icy lava
But it spat you out like a cork,
And all the little fish drank champagne
And danced the rumba because
They thought you’d given up
And they thought they had won.
The big green-eyed octopus down there
Skated along the soft ocean floor like messiah
Each day the slimy grin on his face,
That fatty enclave of salty grime,
Grew wider and wider, until the sea
Started to shiver at the thought of its size.
Months passed in the oyster-grey soup
Of the swelling Atlantic Ocean
But every morning you hear the
Broken-backed barnacles whispering your name
Your time is coming my darling, I can feel it
Put your goggles on, it’s time for a change.
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A) I love this poem.
B) Oh no. I say this because I took something from the poem that spoke to me personally, and that’s my reaction; oh no.
While there are certain ominous undertones in the piece, especially in the final stanza, the piece also has a certain cocktail-hour charm to it as well, if that makes a damn bit of sense.