Song of the Silver Shore

(I began writing this poem in a English Language & Literate A level mock exam at Cassio College in Watford, c. 1994. There’s not much more to it than that.)

I sat upon the silver shore,
And sang a song of mirth and gore.
While up above me in the sky,
A wild goose chase fluttered by.

Upon the silver shore I sat,
Wailing like an alley cat.
While in the water nymphs did play,
Celebrating an oceanic holiday.

The silver shore I sat upon,
Reciting my rhyme on and on,
But still I heard from far away,
A call that haunts me to this day:

“Come back, come back, you silly fool,
Can't you see you've lost it all?
Escape this land? You must be daft!
There is no wood to build a raft,
Nor will any ships pass here,
At this stormy time of year.
You cannot ever avoid your fate,
For you and destiny have a date!
No need to worry or be afraid,
The truth is, you've got it made!
A moment of pain, a final breath,
A spurt of blood, then only – death.
Off to heaven, safe and sound,
The glory of God all around!
Why deny this joyful event?
This is no cause for sad lament!
But desert us now and we shall be cursed,
To suffer unending hunger and thirst!
Return, return, you must obey -
The sacrifice is due today!”

To these words I would not respond,
For of my life I was far too fond.
So I sung, and sung, and sung some more,
Until my throat was frightful sore,
And darkness fell upon that shore.

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