The Coracle Oracle

By Angusfolklore

Sat, 14 Sep 2019
  • 802 reads
2 comments
 

Uncalled for, after he’d gone,

his boat made its rudderless journey home.

Just big enough for him alone,

a bobbing empty shell from which

the kernel of his life was absent.

Taken somewhere deep in the

vastness of the Atlantic deep,

the calm waves should not bring things

back like this.

Spring tide’s drift a sardonic gift,

a sideline in unproven death.

No oars or life inside,

just a ripped rag he might have

waved surrender with,

or used to stifle the last call of despair.

There is no knowing with no-one there.

So it ebbed and ran aground intact,

sinister at low tide,

perfectly serviceable,

but nobody of course would set off

in the boat again.

Certificate PG
Poem
Dark Fiction and Rimes

Comments

Submitted by lenchenelf on

...of having bricks launched at me for temerity, this is good, atmospheric,

but feels as if you could give it a tweak or two to make it satisfying. What you'd do and I are so different, I won't offer dictat, merely suggest that I'd lose those last three lines. end on "sinister at low tide"poss. bringing the reader in, give them space to imagine? :) I'll go away now :)

best

Lx

 

 

Submitted by Angusfolklore on

No, comments are sound.  I will take them 'on board' (pun intended)!