The Roaches

By: ailsaandlisa

May 12 2012

Category: free verse, poem


Oooh, blowy, we say.
We mean the air
is rushing water.
We stand, submerged,

our hearts beat fast,
we breathe in gasps,
the current pushes
past, through us,

sluices our thoughts
blank, douses us
with cold fire. This
is our element

There must be a moormaid
with peat brown hair
and gritstone eyes
who swims in this pale sea,

loops the winking man,
swoops down to the tarn
and whispers to her sister
through its black blown waves.


3 comments on “The Roaches”

  1. Beautiful visual images from this poem. Thank you.

  2. I absolutely LOVE this. The moormaid looping the winking man – genius xx

  3. Want to be the moormaid…maybe I’ll get my walking boots on! Thanks for a beautiful poem and fab photo.

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