Sling me under the sea.
Pack me down in the salt and wet.
No farmer's plow shall touch my bones.
No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak
How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth.
Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes,
Purple fish play hide-and-seek,
And I shall be song of thunder, crash of sea,
Down on the floors of salt and wet.
Sling me . . . under the sea.
Leave a guest comment (subject to review)
Comments
-
I feel, he is a 'wave' here. Of course it could be literal in the imagery. But, I feel he is encompassing himself as a 'wave'. A suicidal one at that.
The title I take as metaphorical, but, if not, if it's not a metaphor, then, I feel it is the upright position of suicide. Or the somewhat cause of it in any regard.
I do not know in the end - it could be either or, or none of the above.
Either way, it's an interesting piece. I do not like to use that word, because, mainly when that words is used 'interesting' its because no exact meaning was received. But, I feel I received at least 2 if not 3.
-
What a delight to find this on the front OP page
I've read this poem several times, though I don't think I have on here. Anyway - I like this.
Adding your comment:
