The spray hits you in the face.
The swells bring the distended belly
Quickly up then settles with a greenish hiss,
Another and another.
You wonder where the long-winged birds
Light for rest.
All is water, all around,
You look out to the horizon
Your only constant
A setting sun
Night creeping up your back
You dare not turn
To see its grin.
most or all of those birds can float on the water, dummy. i mean friend! and i mean and still live and fly again! ! ! bri ;) Night is creeping up your back; too bad a backbone you do lack. If you had one, you might churn, and punch the Sun, though it might burn... YOU! Come back, Sun! you might call out, sticking out your chest and looking stout. Go f yourself the Sun might reply. :) bri THAT'S when you punch Sun in its eye! !
Very nice. I could almost feel the spray and see the birds in flight.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Well, not when it's stormy surely. Anyway, pretty funny retort, Bri.