David Wood (07 April 1950 / London)
Swash buckling pirate
Sitting low on log pondering.
Viper long neck still,
Standing idly around lazing
Wings outstretched drying
Corpse sliding down its neck,
Once living, once swimming.
The Jubilee River swims by
With life. Death machine sitting,
Looking at the water like a prehistoric
Pterodactyl perched motionlessly.
There is no point fishing here today
The Cormorant has beaten me to it.
Wide eyes gazing at me laughing
Mocking the amateur.
Comments about this poem (Cormorants by David Wood )
People who read David Wood also read
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley