A Cornish Fantasy (Poetry)
24th March 2013
Clear Cornish rock pools glinted — lured
with their looking glass attraction
winking coded secrets — said I could pass through
into their sunshot salt and seaweed element
as I crouched there half-believing it might possibly be true...
I could have been a mermaid born
natural to that cool domain
I recognised the crabs — called them each by an old name
those pebbles held for me a weight of rolling memories
yet not one knew what rules defined the summer ocean’s game.
A message in a bottle kept the magic real
the yellow shells stayed dumb about its origin
I knew the sea-god slumbered far and near
I’d heard him snoring somewhere in the shallows
but I really didn’t want to worry him.
I quizzed the crowding wavelets — asked
‘Where are you from?’
We played at guessing — made it last
all September long
their language gentle nonsense shushed my ear.
I found most of the fish were running shy
except for one fine fossil
who kept a watchful eye
and mouthed a reeling sailor’s shanty
line by briny line.
Maybe that day I’d simply too much sun
and so all sense boiled over seamlessly
the sky domed fancy strung with curls of cloud
dark birds like oysters swam
spaced out their skull-white pearls above my head.
Air and water mingled. Switched about.
Starfish led me down a milky way
a-swirl with bubbles beading shards of light
to where an eight-legged crystal-coated monster lay
contemplating his ancient granite garden.
Surely he guarded treasure but wasn’t giving anything away
he gazed at me long minutes — muttered ‘Curious’
quite distinctly — like he’d never seen a child before.
‘I would have knocked,’ I said politely
‘Except you don’t appear to have a door.’
‘Look up!’ he said. An opal skin stretched tight
he waved a leg and I knew what he meant
the surface of his pool both firmament
and entrance to his realm. I nodded — let
a raft of pointless questions float away.
He soon bored of me — I crept from narrow sight
explored his palace halls rough-hewn and cold
fronded green where arrowed chinks of light
patterned them and timid creatures flitted inbetween
unnerved to find a stranger unannounced.
My blood began to change — I felt it start to freeze
my heartbeat slowed as ocean filled each pore
a calmness made me think I had come home
and I belonged here more than on some patch of land
weathering that wild indifferent zone.
If I ever had a bond with too-thin air
that spell was broken — I was kin to tides
and currents tugging down and down and down
through liquid glass — a sluggish underworld
spread its gritty valleys — promised peace.
I didn’t drown but close they said — a miraculous near-thing.
A local saved me — hauled me out from that deep pool in time
before it took me — mind and body whole.
I’m left with water on the brain — a mermaid’s lost and ever-
wandering soul.
Each night I sink in sleep and dream I own another name.
with their looking glass attraction
winking coded secrets — said I could pass through
into their sunshot salt and seaweed element
as I crouched there half-believing it might possibly be true...
I could have been a mermaid born
natural to that cool domain
I recognised the crabs — called them each by an old name
those pebbles held for me a weight of rolling memories
yet not one knew what rules defined the summer ocean’s game.
A message in a bottle kept the magic real
the yellow shells stayed dumb about its origin
I knew the sea-god slumbered far and near
I’d heard him snoring somewhere in the shallows
but I really didn’t want to worry him.
I quizzed the crowding wavelets — asked
‘Where are you from?’
We played at guessing — made it last
all September long
their language gentle nonsense shushed my ear.
I found most of the fish were running shy
except for one fine fossil
who kept a watchful eye
and mouthed a reeling sailor’s shanty
line by briny line.
Maybe that day I’d simply too much sun
and so all sense boiled over seamlessly
the sky domed fancy strung with curls of cloud
dark birds like oysters swam
spaced out their skull-white pearls above my head.
Air and water mingled. Switched about.
Starfish led me down a milky way
a-swirl with bubbles beading shards of light
to where an eight-legged crystal-coated monster lay
contemplating his ancient granite garden.
Surely he guarded treasure but wasn’t giving anything away
he gazed at me long minutes — muttered ‘Curious’
quite distinctly — like he’d never seen a child before.
‘I would have knocked,’ I said politely
‘Except you don’t appear to have a door.’
‘Look up!’ he said. An opal skin stretched tight
he waved a leg and I knew what he meant
the surface of his pool both firmament
and entrance to his realm. I nodded — let
a raft of pointless questions float away.
He soon bored of me — I crept from narrow sight
explored his palace halls rough-hewn and cold
fronded green where arrowed chinks of light
patterned them and timid creatures flitted inbetween
unnerved to find a stranger unannounced.
My blood began to change — I felt it start to freeze
my heartbeat slowed as ocean filled each pore
a calmness made me think I had come home
and I belonged here more than on some patch of land
weathering that wild indifferent zone.
If I ever had a bond with too-thin air
that spell was broken — I was kin to tides
and currents tugging down and down and down
through liquid glass — a sluggish underworld
spread its gritty valleys — promised peace.
I didn’t drown but close they said — a miraculous near-thing.
A local saved me — hauled me out from that deep pool in time
before it took me — mind and body whole.
I’m left with water on the brain — a mermaid’s lost and ever-
wandering soul.
Each night I sink in sleep and dream I own another name.