My Ver Poets competition entry poem - 'Ping'

Another contemporary piece ... you'll see it is sadly topical.



Ping

 

Bereft in brine but sitting soldier-straight

in ship-shape rows of bloated, silted blanks;

the only sound marauding through the seats

a distant ping that you can’t hear, nor them

with plaintive cries as sonars beep, that’s it

but no, it’s just another well-chased goose

and still you sit, still belted up but lost

in black but still no sign; the orange box

that hides away, Pandora of Malay

she lies in weight of deathly, plankton souls

with lid still sealed and secrets unrevealed;

as ships and planes still comb unchartered lanes

for pips again she fades, her seventh veil

the final tale, her beacon fails and dies

its last: MH three-seventy, goodbye.

 

© Nigel Pamenter 2014
The right of Nigel Pamenter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.