by Veronika Prusova

Created on: January 13, 2007   Last Updated: May 14, 2007

The Sea

I've heard many strange tales in my young life
About peculiar beasts who live in the sea,
Some with great teeth that can tear like a knife,
While others will fly through the air in glee;
Gentle giants who are both strong and wise,
Huge sea serpents that hide beneath the earth,
Dangerous carnivores with deadly eyes,
Playful creatures that dance in mirth,
Skeletal fish with dislocating jaws,

While others lure prey by their light,
Creatures that change colour to stun and awe,
Or can simply disappear from sight!

There have been tales too of other strange beasts,
Though many are believed to be far from true,
Such as enormous sea dragons inhabiting the east,
And singing sirens tricking a wretched crew.
Mermaids who live in palaces far below,
While mischievous sea sprites ride the waves,
Souls of lost shipmates, who moan and glow,
And dinosaur-like creatures hiding in caves,
True sea horses, the swift hippocampi,
Strange formless creatures surrounded by fog,
The people of Atlantis hidden beneath the sea,
And the magical land of Tir na n'Og.

But people say that only in fantasy dwell such things
And tell me to not waste my time in dreams,
But I can't help it, for this my heart sings,
And my eyes are lit by gentle moonbeams:
I hear the gnomes rustling in the grass,
And the gentle footfalls of fairies on flowers,
Hear elfin laughter as they pass,
And sweet nymph voices singing for hours.
I saw the shadows of pegasi as they flew in the sky
Saw the golden streaks of griffins in dive,
Witnessed the flash of a horn as a unicorn rushed by,
And know in my heart that magic is still alive.

Yet people insist that these things are not true,
That they are fictional stories and nothing more,
Ask me if I have nothing better to do,
Then to engage in fantastical folklore.
They say I am being silly and waste my time,
Or that I'm too old to believe in such things,
That spells are nothing more than chanted rhyme
And horses have no fins, horns or wings;
Fairies and elves are nothing more than bugs,
Whilst griffins are really birds in the sky,
Say there's no such thing as flying rugs,
And fantasy is nothing to live your life by.

This is not true, I know it's not so,
Otherwise, what a sad place this would be,
Imagine a world where the stars would not glow,
And leaves not change colours on a tree.
A place where birds will forget how to sing,
And all our days become dull and grey,
Where the sweet chimes of bells will not ring,
And young lambs and fawns don't frolic and play.
Flowers forget to open and greet the sun,
Waves won't rush up upon

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