Goldfish Bowl
Looking out, looking in.
Golden iridescent orange
brighter than sunbeams, marigolds and apricots
Tickling their fins against the luscious greens of the pond moss
Freshly picked.
Looking out, looking in.
A magnificent silver snow moon glistens, white bright
over the indigo rising tidal waters
almost terrifying
as it calmly ripples and laps
up against the windows edge
of our house boat.
Looking out, looking in.
The tourists gawk like plump ripe figs
in awe and colourful confusion
how do they live like this they ask?
so many questions about to burst.
Through my windows so round
I can see them.
We are just like our goldfish
looking out, looking in.
I guide the jet black ink on the paper so white
They flew so close to the turquoise waters edge
two red faced cormorants
along the beach line we saw
exquisite against the blue
later at home, we draw.
Looking out, looking in.
The Tap tap tap on our window they proceed
the majestic white
yet impolite
swans tap with their beaks
in the hope for snow peas to be thrown.
Looking out, looking in
We are just like our goldfish in a bowl
Looking out, looking in.
About the Creator
ESTHER CLARKE
I live on a houseboat with my young son; on an estuary where the river meets the sea in Southern England U.K.
I recently wrote my first poem for 30 years... I stayed up late and fell in love with the play of words.
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Oh So Quiet.
Winter in England, UK. 1995. She had no clue; the first rule to ‘fit in’ is to be happy within. In a British state-funded secondary school that smelt of disinfectant, food and sweat, full of testing teenagers, stood a 15-year-old girl. 90% moody, yet defiantly desperate to fit in with her peers.
By ESTHER CLARKE4 years ago in Confessions
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