Survival Of The Fittest In New Zealand Poem by Briony Nicholls

Survival Of The Fittest In New Zealand



Beautiful Arcadian land, cast
In sublime Martian-green splendour!
Whose colossal mountains in bloom are
Dotted with blobs of white woollen sheep,

Whose coastline cascades down to
Where a den of sleeping sea-lions lie,
The problem, of course, being -
The all-conquering eye of its Arctic cold wind!

While caressing the hardy smooth skin
Of the sea mammals like loving silk,
It found its way through the pores of my alien skin
And upon finding a decaying old virus deep within,

Swiftly commanded new life into it
Deciding there and then -
In sudden malevolent intent -
To wage an opportunistic new military campaign!

As the sea-mammals basked serenely in its sway
For me the wind revealed its sinister plans
As the stealth tactics of its terror campaign then began.
Firstly, by inflaming & reddening a razor-wired sore throat

Before turning on the nasal taps in magnificent freefall!
Next it stoked a riot of invading chills
Like an advancing army of invisible ice-axes
To attack the warm smooth contours of my bones

That tore, split and froze and - in turn -
Burned and stoked my rising fever even more!
Upon being pummeled by such a frenzied attack
My body could only respond with a calm eerie counter-attack.

Perhaps it was impersonal, I ruminated
This pernicious ill-will of the Arctic cold wind,
Like 'survival of the fittest' is impersonal,
But necessary, in the higher scheme of things?

The sea mammals were peaceful enough, I could see
It was only the wind's terrible obsession with me
That was the pivot of this scene, and now,
Tracking my footprints on the smooth swept sand,

It stepped up its zealous pursuit of me!
Stripped of all my armour and accoutrements, I was now
Engulfed by a strange flood of prehistoric antigens!
That my ransacked cells could not recognise nor approve,

As they stormed inside and swelled like
A million blow torches to naked flames!
And through the rising red-hot fever in my head
And the chattering chills rattling my teeth -

The truth was clearly discernible
Of my being extinguishable, in the
Cold-hearted beauty of this Arcadian land,
The lesson being a very ancient one, that -

I too, like the sea lions, stones, birds and fish,
Must adapt, survive or perish
At the hand of Destiny's will. And perish I will,
As decreed by the Arctic wind!

With its thundering piercing hissing whips
Now reaching far into the depths of my sea-shell ears
And into the deep dark caverns of my fortress cells
That will never be able to forgive

The rape and pillage of these rampaging deeds!
And I knew it was an all-out war for an all-out escape
From the cold beautiful savagery of this Arcadian place
And I knew where I should go - the only place -

As I clambered through the green beauty
Of Earth's most hellish place!
And there over the last hill she stood,
The one and only saviour -

My enormous gleaming white cruise ship in waiting!
Patiently docked to lovingly gather me up
Into the safety of her well-heated soft plush bowels,
She stood barring entry to the yapping cold snarling wind,

Now tearing at my hair, flattening my face, as it
Furiously pursued me up the gangplank in a last-ditch attack!
And as the last tatters of my energy was being sapped
Its snout was unceremoniously slammed

By the strong, steely ship gates of
Civilisation -
The only thing,
Safe-guarding my passage to survival.

Sunday, September 28, 2014
Topic(s) of this poem: survival
COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Stephen W 13 August 2015

Well-described. Sounds like quite an adventure!

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