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last update:

8 Apr15

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e-mail Caroline

 

ppf shop on-line…
Christmas Card
A little Christmas poem…
(& in Christmas set)

 

and shop elsewhere…
collections –
“Fish Eaters”
Univ. of Plymouth Press;
“Tikki Tikki Man”
Ward Wood;
“Three Hares”
Oversteps Books;
“Bone-Fishing”
Peterloo Poets;
“Jigharzi an Me”
Semicolon;
 
joint pamphlet –
“October Guests”
fal publications

 

 

 

blue whale

when he lived on land
instead of under the sea
he dreamed apple blossom mixed with honey
 
                  his living space was hung
                  with all the colours of the orient
 
                                    residual legs faded
                                    with each step
                                    up the evolutionary ladder
 
 
 
why tell him he’s as long as a football pitch?
his ‘fields’ reach skywards
 
 
 
                                                                in the last battle
                                                                harpoons will be the weapon of choice
 
 
all the king’s men jump onto their horses
bending over their necks       their long whale backbones
 
no      all the king’s men jump into their boats
flensing knives waiting
on the ships behind them
 
                                                    the sound of his voice fades from five oceans
 
                                                    his eye is a one-way mirror
 
 
 
                                                                               once this was a kingdom without whales
                                                                               beaches were empty of them
                                                                               the lamps of the world had no oil
 
 
when he lies on the surface
in the arms of Morpheus
what dreams fill
the half of his mind that’s asleep?
 
                                                                               (humpbacks
                                                                               sleep like caryatids
                                                                               upright as pillars of Solomon)
 
 
 
I was a midwife
when her calf was born
pulled this new world     tail-first       out of her
 
the head          last            nudged upwards
for its first breath
 
                                                                                  she jetted her milk out generously
                                                                                  enough for a small herd of cows
 
 
 
                                                          soon I will become a sea serpent
                                                          I want to be large enough
                                                          to clasp her baby in my arms
 
 
 
when you went back
why did you keep your land-borne lungs
the wombs of your females
your milky calves?
 
                 why do you drink fresh water
                 flavoured by sea?       swelling and pleating your throat
                 to filter cornucopias of krill
 
 
 
 
there’s no longer room for you
in our world
you take too much space
 
 
                                                                                I lie on the seabed
                                                                                whales like ocean-going ships
                                                                                pass above me
 
                                                     one day he’ll teach me
                                                     how to breathe again
 

Caroline Carver

in collection Fish Eaters, 2015,
Univ. of Plymouth Press, ISBN 978-1-8410-23 97-7;
4th Prize, Kent & Sussex Poetry Competition, 2014