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.
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Comments about this poem (Cormorants by David Wood )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(27 January 1832 – 14 January 1898)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(November 1, 1871 – June 5, 1900)
(19 April 1928 - 26 December 2006)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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