Gushing, rushing pounding sea,
a force with which to reckon.
Spewing forth flotsam tales,
relayed to mermaids beckon.
With roar of dry ice spray of foam,
the awesome sea is free to roam.
Sea birds, landlocked crouch,
they cease to soar and dive.
No shoals of fish ride ebbs of tide,
the storm doth rage so wild.
No fishermen put out to catch,
all vessels at harbour must lay.
To strain and creak and fight the tethers,
of ropes and anchor stays.
With tree and tyre, bottle and tin,
midst seaweed, wood and shells.
The scattered tide line scrapyard,
a mess of sights and smells.
A reminder to all safe and sound,
not to sit at ease.
For the summer sky blue millpond,
is as fickle as you please.
Uncontrolled power, uncontrollable will,
with turn of tide and wind driven guide
She rages as she will.