Ocean

• Abhiram Hiwase, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2014

Great wave, hard crash. Frothing lash. Foaming flay.
Waters circle the vessel; wolves on hunt.
Jagged rock, low cay, arms against man’s stay.
Sirens swoon. Wood to teeter. Swirls. Great brunt.

Lightening does strike, Thunder in divulge.
Screams cutting through the night. Crow in stiff flight.
Arms to deck. Frothed horses, connect with hull,
flame erupts, arms release. Lost, is their fight.
Tis’ now morn of next. A babe is left for
sail, set in a lobster pot. Its mother
frantic, “Cry, not now… hush, no more.”
Deep blue, gently carries the babe further.
I know not how nor why the hand of such
painted reaper, are also those of soft touch.