There are days when I’m a bit of a Eeyore. I know, that’s hard to believe but the other day I posted a poem I wrote about a beach holiday we took to the Caribbean and I suspect you will have gathered it wasn’t exactly something I’d have willingly put on my bucket (and spade) list.
Still with an appropriate amount of Bah! Humbug still in the air I have condensed those feelings to this sonnet. So you understand fully the Disco Junk was a party boat that cruised past every afternoon making life, if possible, slightly more miserable.
Sonnet of Sand
The Disco Junk thrums past, a rainbow
On the puckered sea. Rock-like skulls,
Guano iced, are parliament to trilling gulls
Eyeing the coral fish, flashing their tarty show.
Cinnamon frosted babies, paint the beach
With plastic spades; eyeless parents, basted
For spit roasting; happy to have wasted
Their nurtured cash on dark staining their peach
White flesh. Seven days of frantic relaxation,
Spent anxiously checking for zebra stripes,
Are reward for a year’s dead-eyed toil. Gripes
Are banned; they have their compensation
In the form of cheap booze-induced comas
And the first stirrings of a melanoma.
I was inspired to write this by Esther Newton’s Monday Motivations. Please check out her blog for other stimuli.