Message in a Bottle
Cast adrift from a child on shore
who’s seen too much and can’t ignore,
nets that tangle, oil that spreads,
bellies bloated, coral beds dead.
She wrote it quick, this salty cry
in a bottle tossed where seabirds fly:
“Please,” it reads, “don’t poison more
the silver life we once adored
Not every treasure’s gold or gem
some have gills and tails, not them
who scorch the reefs and choke the tide,
but those who watch, and those who hide
Save our fish, the blue, the bold
don’t trade them in for plastic gold
If this is found, then hear me true,
what’s left of them depends on you.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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More stories from Marie381Uk and writers in Poets and other communities.
Foot Bindings
I asked my grandmother how she knew she'd fallen in love. I am not sure I ever did love him, she said. This was before I met my husband. I was naive, a naked spring, a raw nerve of a thing. That cannot ever be me, I knew. Sadness swept in gently like a Moscow thaw. It is no simple thing, looking into a woman's vast soul and seeing its foot bindings. Now, in Italy divorced with my skin singed off, when I say I don't love him mean: I have succeeded at feeling nothing most days and it mostly works. Do you want the comfort of Nothing? Do you want Nothing, too? Be warned: you'll never be free, even when you are nothing. Here is what doesn't work: Accepting the stages of grief. Talking about it. Sitting with the feeling. Missing him—no, the person you were when you believed in death do us part. Writing poetry. That, too. When I say I don't love him I mean: I feel capsized in an endless, starved tide. What sometimes works: selective memory. You must forget ripe tomatoes and his beard and feeling perfectly sheltered in a big blue world. Forget coffee in bed, laughter watching TV, blowing out the candles on the birthday cake and the quiet all-encompassing knowledge that you are chosen. Remember only how love turned to a banal everyday survival act, a trapeze act unsure whether he will catch you, how the warmth stagnated and became sour, remember the foot bindings and remember the resentment boiling in your veins as you stick it out for the kids. Six-hour Netflix binges help, too. A man's fingers tracing your spine. Frozen pizza at 2 a.m. Random trips to the museum just to stand near things that last a while. The realization that crying won’t change anything. Seeing that life is just a dream, and refusing to participate in your own suffering. Bite your fist. Walk on eggshells around joy. When I say I don't love him, I mean he didn’t break my heart, he just stopped touching it and it forgot how to beat right.
By Ella Bogdanovaabout 23 hours ago in Poets
The Lesions of Devotion
Every day I set myself down on the freshly cut lawn and strip myself bare. I take my guitar and finger the frets and pick at the strings, listening for dissonance. My life is dissonance. I twist the tuning pegs until each string sounds bright. Then I kneel, calves pointing behind me, kneecaps facing forward. All exposed to the breeze. I close my eyes and play the melody.
By Paul Stewart3 days ago in Fiction
Comments (7)
Fabulous
Best.. well written 🙏
Lovely, Marie. Such a deep sentiment, well expressed.
This is beautifully written and deeply moving. The child’s voice makes the message hit even harder. ‘Not every treasure’s gold or gem’ — that line really stayed with me. Powerful reminder.
This poem really hits home. It makes you think about how much damage we're doing to the oceans. I've seen firsthand how oil spills can mess things up. And those nets tangling up marine life? That's a huge problem. It's up to us to make a change. How can we spread the word and get more people to care about protecting our oceans?
Fantastic writing; so inspiring Marie! 🌸
We live in a coastal state and it is a big issue here as well. Saving the fish and the sea life. Beautiful poem Marie. Well Done!!!