I’ve decided to try to put a poem on this site every day. There seems to be some sort of poetry challenge on. I’ve come across it on blogs in America and New Zealand, but I don’t really know where the idea came from. I’ll see if I can keep it up for amonth.
I am Noah’s boat groaning
under the weight of all these animals.
Cats and dogs I don’t mind
but the elephants and hippopotamuses –
all that dung! And the monkeys –
skittering across my decking
and swarming all over my cabin,
taking things and hiding them away
like elderly aunts with dementia.
Poor Mrs Noah!
She has to to slaughter
some of the animals for food.
All that blood!
It’s impossible to keep clean.
She scoops up seawater in pans
but of course it doesn’t lather.
And my hull –
I have so many barnacles
that I’ve forgotten what I look like.
I should have been lifted out
and placed in dry dock long ago
so they could be scraped off –
but there’s nowhere for Noah
and the boys to go ashore.
Oh for a nice lick of fresh paint!
Instead I throb under this weight.
I’m prematurely old.
And those boys –
Shem, Ham and Jephet –
such sullen young men.
Their wives aren’t much better
apart from Mrs Shem. She smiles
as she sings a lullaby to the baby
who was born just after we left.
This old sea dog can’t wait to be ashore
and be rid of these unwanted passengers.