The Long Sailors of Queziletimal
As they relaxed in their tepid baths
With maiden’s fair of skin
All that these sailors could think about
Were the seas that they had left behind
They longed to captain their ships
Through weathers foul and fair
And return in peace
To the purple regions
Of their distant and long lost shores
Mermaid
I let the sea artist
Paint me in the flesh
As a present to myself
Should I ever age
Mermaids
Mermaids never age
But the sea wears our skin rough
So we bathe on rocks
Away from the shore
When we think we have had enough
Letter from Iceland
As it sailed towards Iceland
The ship that was carrying
Anders Anders
Broke up in a storm
He had been promised a job
On the Icelandic railways
But as he never arrived
To take up the post
The offer was withdrawn
The Smiths Accountant
The Smiths accountant sold my ship
From beneath my feet
And left me stranded in this port
I kept my mermaid in a tub of seawater
Stolen from the docks
As the months passed the mermaid weakened
And began to lose her perfumes pure
So after hours of thought
I carried her towards the waters edge
And released her into the wild
I then covered myself with sand and shells
And waited for the tide to return