Plague Of Dead Sharks

A poem by Alan Dugan

Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes?

The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet

slough off, in spring, the dead rind of the shoes’

leather detention, the big toe’s yellow horn

shines with a natural polish, and the whole

person seems to profit. The opposite appears

when dead sharks wash up along the beach

for no known reason. What is more built

for winning than the swept-back teeth,

water-finished fins, and pure bad eyes

these old, efficient forms of appetite

are dressed in? Yet it looks as if the sea

digested what it wished of them with viral ease

and threw up what was left to stink and dry.

If this shows how the sea approaches life

in its propensity to feed as animal entire,

then sharks are comforts, feet are terrified,

but they vacation in the mystery and why not?

Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes?:

what the sun burns up of it, the moon puts back.

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Poems in English 

• Why England Is Conservative poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Who Would Not Die For England! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “When the reaper lays the sickle by ” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• When Runnels Began To Leap And Sing poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• ” When in the long–drawn avenues of Thought” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “What ails you, Ocean, that nor near nor far” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “`Were I a Poet, I would dwell” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Since We Must Die poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Wardens Of The Wave poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To The Autumn Wind poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Robert Louis Stevenson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ireland poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To England poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Ellen Terry poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Beatrice Stuart–Wortley Ætat poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Arms! (II) poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• To Alfred Tennyson poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• “‘Tis because, though in dusky bower” poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin
• Time’s Weariness poem – Alfred Austin by Alfred Austin

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Duckduckgo – the real alternative and a search engine that actually works. Without much censorship or partisan politics.

Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.

 

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