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The offer was withdrawn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