Washed to my Shore


Oh thou art Poseidon’s blessing fair,

Borne by the waves and washed to my shore,

Abundant in crimson coral and opulent pearls,

You have a beauty which curtails

The calling of sirens, setting me into straits

Unknown and familiar, swirling past cragged coasts

Of queendom gained, kingdom lost.


You have an island, applauded, enthralled

Sentinelled by trees armed with sharp amber bark;

Leaves are golden and rivers silver –

The moon in the sky just an opal sliver,

Smiling mouth shimmering aquiver

As she looks down upon

The passionate trade.


Let me wade in waters new,

Iridescent shifting indigo violet green white blue –

The crown and the compass distorted, fully formed;

Mine for the taking, yours to hold in a storm.

Sceptre-handed and robed, I kneel at your fore

To send a blessing to ancient gods

And receive enough immortality to reassure.


Conversion, baptism, christened thus, neo named;

Call me your beloved, set me out to swim in chains –

Yet hold me close, watch me dive for discoveries untold,

As lip to lip myself to you has been sold.



Amber R Walker, Hull, Creative Writer, Bookmaker, Lover of art

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