Sitting on a bollard
by the harbour wall
that old seagull
staring at me
could be my dear
departed dad,
for they do say
as how the souls
of sailors loth
to leave the sea
do transmigrate
and be re-born
as herring gulls
or kittiwakes,
but if that’s him
I think his tastes
have greatly changed
for I just saw
it eat a jellyfish,
two juicy lugworms
and a smelly fish.
Your thoughts are very nicely translated into a lovely poem. When ever I see a rainbow, I believe it is my dad paying me a visit. :) Gyp's
Great write Peter, starting serious and then ending with humour, Nicely written this one. Enjoyed it. Love Ernestine XXX
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
You speak of seagulls, I speak of 'a swallow, or a dropp in the sea / a floating cloud, or a leaf on a tree' ('The Sign') . We do have affinities. Bless You.