The Seagull


And brazenly, the seagull swoops
to the ground, flying in like a fighter jet,
with beady eyes, wings the colour of clouds.
Its clarion cry is pitched against the rumble
of some machine as it searches
among the desiccated fridges,
a rusted TV set, the rotting innards
of discarded plastic bags. The call it gives
is one of seaweed and kelp, the sting
of salt on the wind as the tide rushes in.
But here it is, on terrain thick with broken bottles,
sticks and mouldy fishing nets, the sickly stench
of waste a weight in the summer air.
It is one of life’s scavengers, the garbage can
of birds, ungainly looking, brash, and yet
can glide across the skyline with a grace
we cannot share, rooted as we are to the land.




@2014 Louise Hastings


6 thoughts on “The Seagull

  1. Thought-provoking as ever, this lovely poem resonates with the ambivalence that the living of our lives drags up within us. The seagull: a scavenger and the most graceful & acrobatic performer capable of soaring into the sky & leaving the smell & debris behind in an instant … the trash that we humans have created & have to live with, ‘rooted as we are to the land.’ ❤

  2. I like that you juxtaposed the beauty of nature with the wasteful destructiveness of man’s activities. It’s sometimes easy to only see the beauty around us 🙂

    • Hi Amanda, and thank you 🙂 it’s been a good summer here for a change but I’m looking forward to the beauty of autumn and also my first year at university. I hope you are well, too ..lovely to see you here as always x

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