Frank Ian Bowen

Rookie (23 May 1952 / Portsmouth, England)

Marina The Mermaid - Poem by Frank Ian Bowen

There she lies in the cool winter sun,
a sculpture in sand, uniquely just one.
Her name is ‘Marina’, she has golden hair
that flows out behind in spectacular flare.
Her face is so lovely with soft gentle tones,
her sandy skin stretched over subtle cheek bones,
her nose like the stroke of an artist’s soft brush,
her lips, eyes and ears so sexy I blush.
Her neck is so slender and graceful to see,
both shoulders are perfect in fine symmetry,
her arms are outstretched to absorb all the rays,
her fingers extended, their tips slightly raised.
Her breasts are just perfect, pure curves of delight,
as I gaze in a dream in sunshine so bright.
My eyes soak all in, this warm golden scene,
as I gaze from sun lounger, feeling serene.
Her waist is the perfect shape in my mind,
her navel a jewel in her tummy, I find,
and then at her hips a beauteous curve,
that flows down her tail……Cor! What a nerve! !
That fella is stopping to chat her up now!
She’s mine old boy! I don’t want to row,
but I crafted her body, her scales and her tail,
with my hands in the sand and without any pail,
so I‘d rather you left her alone here with me,
as I watch all her beauty be consumed by the sea.


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Poem Submitted: Thursday, May 12, 2011

Poem Edited: Friday, May 13, 2011


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