PORTHLEVEN COWERS... (My poem about stormy seas at Porthleven, Cornwall...)

 Porthleven Cowers…

(Stormy seas, February 2007…)

The swell swings, almost contained

By inner harbour’s angled walls,

Swaying, swooning, almost cascading

Before it spirals, then breaks and falls.

The tumult teeters, nearly convulsed

In outer harbour’s insufficient trough,

Seething, swooping, almost escaping

Before it deflects, sensuous, yet rough.

The sputum sails, almost floating

Onto harbour’s environs it rains,

Shifting, soaking, almost snowing

Before it settles its nauseous stains.

The torrent taunts, unpleasantly threatening

Over harbour’s inanimate rock,

Screeching, screaming, almost twisting,

Before it dives, cavorting to shock…

Pete Ray

A dirty, oily foam was being whipped up by the raging sea at Porthleven and although the inner harbour was virtually unbreached, the outer harbour was like a witch’s brew, bubbling and wild…