herring moons

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
this is a non rhyming poem for all ages

Submitted: November 16, 2012

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Submitted: November 16, 2012



Once many moons ago we lived in old skiff down by the harbour.  There was never much room and i would have preferred not to have to share precious

space with the furry bodies that curled nose to tail in the battered shell of a boat that was our home from birth.  Well at least everyone in there wasnt as

racous as the gulls that jostled and screeched after the herring fleet that  came back into harbour after many long dangerous weeks at sea.  Shiny silver herrings too small to sell at the fish market were thrown back in the wake of the  boats it was the gulls that got there first but in a way they did our work for us.Picking the silver finned fish carcasses from the dark sea they bring them to the jetty to feast on the meat, we waited  till sundown and crept out theyd gone to roost in the numerous  clifftop chalky caves, we sat in silent lines and picked  the white fish bones clean.


How i got to be here you might ask.  Well that is another story altogether but it might shed a bit of light on my present circumstances.

My mother was a beautiful silver tabby, she had the daintiest paws and the biggest green eyes ive ever seen, im sure there was some siamese in

her ancestry,  her expressions were haughty and she had a kink in her tail that the cats of the old siamese court had. To carry the rings of the

spoilt little princesses on, but to us her brood she was simply the best cat mother ever.  Father was im told a  fine ships cat, unfortunately his ship was lost in the

frozen waters around Newfoundland, where only the puffin that stands on the ice floes in the unnavigable channels can see the ghostly funnels of their ship

trapped forever beneath the glittering  cold that beats at the heart of the far far north. 

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