A savage wind howls through the garden
cold enough to chill the heart
loud enough to silence the soul
cruel enough to freeze the mind.
The Med is thrashed.
Bottles and plastic bags,
bits of rope and torn paper,
dead fish,
refuse,
float and writhe,
tossed,
herded in tangled
trashy islands,
squeezed by heaving keels,
wrapped haplessly
on anchored chains.
Condoms and pampers,
cigarette butts and tinfoil,
toxic mix of comfort zones,
denial, and convenience,
lie in heaped dead seagrass,
pile up on shell-less sand.
Relentless, callous
contempt or indifference
for her countless smiles,
soft laughter and easy touches,
for the melody
of her voice and banter,
For the dance and rhythms
of her life and loves…
What can she do but weep
in shallow waves
or wail with the wind
tearing through rigging?
Rows and clusters of grounded
gulls sit and watch her pain.
Behind stone walls
and blind windows
we
waddle on.
unbuttoned or undone 
You have a unique voice. The imagery you invoke with your words is almost like looking at a photo or painting. Wonderful,
LikeLiked by 3 people
Thank you Oglach, you are very kind. Smiles.
LikeLike
Great comment, so true.
Nice to know that someone agrees with me.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Nice!!! Love it!!! Such lovely descriptive sentences.. You are a master Emmylgant!!!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you Suze! Glad you loved it. I am so happy to see you here. XXXX
LikeLike
Ouch! I’m glad someone is sticking up for the Med.
LikeLiked by 2 people
It’s sad to see the stuff washing on shore. Cruise ships and other boats dump offshore and when a storm comes in, the Med dumps it right back.
Did you like the cloud formation over the hill? Yeah. thought so 😉
LikeLike
Of course! Clouds are my thing.
Do you know where the Queen Charlotte Islands are? Off the northern coast of BC, Canada. We found garbage bags there, tossed off a cruise ship. In the garbage was a photo of someone standing in front of a life ring with the ship’s name on it. The cheek!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yup! No shame.
LikeLike
Wonderful and ghastly. I know this feeling all too well. We have a stunning little brook working its way through our little pocket of what’s left of the once might Atlantic Forest. Sadly, it is peppered and dotted with plastic bags and garbage of every kind. The thoughtlessness of some people never ceases to amaze me.
LikeLiked by 3 people
I am finding out that the careless trashers are not necessarily uncaring individuals but businesses who take a cheap shortcut. Sometimes the waste (un)management services simply do not have the equipment or infrastructure in place to deal with the mountains of rubbish. As long as we keep manufacturing and using cheap plastic bags that degrade so slowly they are quasi indestructible, we’ll find some on every inch of the planet.
Ok. Off the soap box now.
LikeLiked by 2 people
We do indeed waddle on…especially at this time of year. Sadly what a truthful description for a once pristine and beautiful sea
LikeLiked by 2 people
Yes, we consume far too much and too often to keep up with the garbage we generate. We do well to sort and recycle, but we tend to think that’s enough. The Med is still a beautiful body of water, often surprising clear, so I get a bit alarmed and just a tad outraged when our beaches get trashy. Plastics push my ugly button.
Thank you for taking the time to visit and comment. I certainly enjoyed exploring your beautiful blog.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for popping over and looking at breath of green air😆
I love the Med, and as with everything in life I guess there are busy areas with lots of thoughtless rubbish, and tranquil almost deserted spots still pristine and clear. We were in Menorca last summer and swam in some beautiful unspoilt waters💕✨💕
LikeLiked by 1 person
Once again your words paint a picture that a great artist would struggle to create.
The bitterness is well-placed, but sadly futile, I fear.
Another truly magnificent piece.
LikeLike
The Med ?????? What you described sounds like Lake Michigan !!!
Good Night, Emm. 🙂
LikeLike
Oh, Em! I am remiss in hanging close to your poetry. Each visit, no matter the time between, strikes deep in my mind mansion. This poem is beautifully written and sad too when I think of how this problem has permeated the far reaches of our oceans and seas to every shore and even in the extremes of Mount Everest. It was easy to make the mess and a thousand times more difficult to clean it up. But, we must do something before it is us that litters the globe with our discarded selves.
LikeLike