Not By Land

Now the shrieking gale
force winds have eased
now the swirling peaks of
mountainous seas have
dropped, imprisoned travellers
gradually leave the seaside
town immured within
its vast rocky landslides.

Helicopters lift off from
sports fields with groups
from long straggling queues
flying to the city down south.

Naval ships anchor out at
sea beyond the perilously
raised rocky seabed.
Small shallow draft boats
ferry food water portaloos
to shore, ferry travellers
back to fill up ships’ cargo
holds for the journey
to the city down south.

Tears flow of exhaustion fear
sleeplessness anxiety, yet
thankful to leave the constant
aftershocks, the shortages,
relieved to travel to a city
where life flows on in its
accustomed routines.

Not By Land

Seashore

In a dull cloudy haze
the bleak rocky coast
lies silent after its midnight
roaring grinding juddering
shaking falling rising.
A broad band of dead
black algae coats pale grey
rocks, broken by clumps of
limp seaweed drooping reaching
down to the seawater far below.

The deep chasm stretching
out to sea from the little
coastal town lies eerie, empty
of its whales and playful
dolphins now retreated far
out to sea. Trapped by rocks
thrust upwards lie boats that
used to follow them, now
stranded in the newly molded
pond around their wharf.

A vast landslide inters
rocks where fur seals used
to bask, breed, fight, sleep.

Over rocks heaved high above
their former ocean home lie
crayfish corpses past their
last gasp, while abalone bake
in the sun, far from the newly
created high tide line.

Seashore