Whales, whales, whales,
what do we see.
Swimming the oceans,
wild and free.
Up from the bottom,
they come for a peek.
We watch them in awe,
unable to speak.
With the flip of a tail,
and the turn of a back,
they gracefully glide,
to the depths of the black.
Crooning and singing,
the males to their mate,
as they court and dine,
their new found date.
Together forever,
they are for life.
The young one delivered,
is never in strife.
Except for the hunter,
whose harpoon it did take.
The life from the baby,
that generation did make.
Withdrawn from the surface,
stricken in grief,
parents never again,
to come for a peek.
A contest entry
- Real Poetry Contest by Oedhel.
525 points, ended October 20, 2007, 25 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Share your thoughts with me
Comments
-
Results...
Originality: 4/4 It’s original alright.
Rhythm: 3/4 It found its own rhythm, the rhyming helped.
Wording: 4/4 Nice wording choices.
Ease of Reading: 4/4 It read very well.
Final Score: 15/16 Very nice poem.
For a more extensive critique contact me after the close of the contest.
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