Danger Poem by Andrew Shiston

Rocks open mouths with teeth
Creamed waves curling high
Over the demon faces of the cliffs
Outcrops of grasping fingers
Reaching for the vessels passing by,
Below in the rushing tides
Surging waters, wearing
Turning wooden hulks
Towards the hungry shallows
Daring unknown sailors
With strange alluring fluted sounds
Singing the songs of sirens
And warm lights of the wreckers beacons
Cold grasping hands, beckoning
With unkempt broken nails
To urge safe and warm temptation
Upon the cold and grey quicksand's
Waiting for the flotsam
To stay with the quickly, now ebbing tides.