There was no breeze and all fell still,
even the rain
We were not here on earth,
there was no time.
There was no death nor birth
It was a moment as it never will
be here again, so full.
As you said yes. And I gave in.
My Zeus. Was I to think you were a bull?
pic from wikipedia by Gustave Moreau
entry for gooseberry poetry picnic mythology
The lifeboat entered port,
a blue corpse on the deck,
swollen from the water,
and no one knew his name,
nor from where he came.
We children called him mister Blue
and he was buried
with respect that we felt due.
We all put flowers on his grave.
He was everybody’s father,
everybody’s son. No body is so safe
then a corpse in a small harbour.
This is my acceptance post for the poets rally week 52
and I nominate Harry Nicholson