I went for a cycle earlier along the North Sea coast, and from it some lines began to take shape. Here they lie upon the dark shores of the internet…
There some say pearls they have no scent,
Yet what foul stench doth forth from these,
Betwixt the riven beaches rent
Hurls envious man unto his knees.
Their lustrous shine a mucous slick
Across the centred irritant sand,
Their value stirs man’s dark blood thick
And drives his bones to start from land.
Each step he takes encroached by wave,
Their icy grasp tear at his flesh,
His mind becalmed to pearly slave;
Feet drag at fallen comrades’ bones enmeshed.
Cold mucous o’erslicks his eyes,
They wash ashore to glisten ‘mongst the prize.