Lapping at the bow I groan,
catch meandering moans in the sky,
as something floats languid in the tide.
Its sullen thump against the hull,
reminds me of the sibilant lull
of the sirens caress,
and the creep of approaching death.
As water rises I shiver and shake
at the porthole's bloated face.
I splutter and choke on my final drink,
no sweet burn of rum in the rising
foam of blood and bile.
A tap-tap at the porthole reels me in,
nightmares take hold in the hold
as I drift off into dark water.
Then I rush unbidden from the abyss.
Mix with smoke blown in the night
past the pale swaying moon
pulling me high over a macabre scene,
played out on the ruffled gleam
of the black, black sea.
'A Human Harvest' is a poem inspired by the somewhat gruesome myths that surround the practice of wrecking. In the 18th century many village people in coastal areas would plunder valuables from a shipwreck which had foundered or run aground close to shore.
Legends have it that there were organised groups of 'wreckers' that used lights to misdirect and lure ships on to the rocks so that they could plunder the valuable cargo. In these stories boats of these wreckers would venture out to the wrecks with clubs in hand and finish off any survivors who could be potential witnesses.
This poem is one of my favorite pieces I've recorded as a spoken word performance. The subject matter, although dark, lends itself to creating a really spooky and atmospheric poem. Who knows if the practice of wrecking ever really existed, but it makes for a great horror poem 😉
Thanks for reading/listening 🙂🌿
The various media used in the poetry reading are all from CC licence sources, links to credit:
Music: The Nymphaeum by Angelwing
Title picture: by AD_Images from Pixabay
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