Brian Joseph Dickenson

Rookie (Not dead yet. Born in the first half of the last century. / Liverpool, England)

S.C.U.B.A. - Poem by Brian Joseph Dickenson

Rolling backward of the boat,
Buoyancy adjusted,
So you don’t float.

Dive like a porpoise, head for the bottom.
Everyday cares,
Completely forgotten.

Visibility’s good as you fly thorough the kelp.
Knowing if there’s trouble,
Your buddy will help.

The sound of your bubbles echoes in your head,
You know that without them,
You’d be very soon dead.

What’s that below you? It looks like a mast.
A Spanish Galleon?
A wreck from the past?

No, it’s just an old coaster that was carrying coal
Came up on a reef,
That punched a great hole.

What story could it tell you of that stormy night?
Where all the crew saved?
Or perished out of sight?

A shadow slips by you, you look in alarm,
It’s a white tipped reef shark,
It means you no harm.

You check out your depth gauge, don’t go to deep.
Narcosis can get you
You’ll drift into sleep.

You’ll offer the fishes, air from your set.
Behave like a mad man
And deaths what you’ll get.

Rising up to the surface, watching your bubble,
Don’t overtake them
Or you’ll be in trouble.

Back on the boat, a feeling of bliss,
With a smile in your heart
Your Scuba you kiss.

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Comments about S.C.U.B.A. by Brian Joseph Dickenson

  • (5/17/2006 2:42:00 AM)

    You S.C.U.B.A got me all excited..
    is that how it is? ?

    sounds cool...

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, March 22, 2006

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