The sea is a hungry dog/that churns inside your head/while he consumes your whole and spits you out/to taste the ice-cream on your stout/smorgasboard of devotion/unyielding to his mauling/while ocean lays you bleeding on the beach/and pirates celebrate/a low laid private’s finish./Then faithful doggie falls besides you like the sea/ wave in flat out growling loyalty/guarding and reclaiming its shipwrecked commodity,/Sea people love their sea.
Oh dear, dear. Who knows, who knows, what the mind can get up to in sleep. I woke from a dream in which I was writing the above. Yesterday, a friend from school days visited with me and our conversation got around to the poems we memorized as part of our English Language lessons in elementary and secondary school. Then she went on to recite, without a pause, one she said she frequently recalls when walking along the beach in Saint Lucia, a favourite by James Reeves.