Awen Online Issue 7


 By DJ Tyrer 
Wave crash on coastline
Footprints in sand mark passage
Winter waves erase

               Mysteries Of The Deep
                     By Annabelle Tipper

We've sent men to the moon
and we know a lot about space;
but the ocean has yet to yield
all its secrets - it's a mysterious place.
We've seen fascinating pictures of creatures
but many remain undetected - hidden from view;
so much more is waiting to be discovered,
it would be wonderful to find something new.
A myriad forms of weird and wonderful life
are concealed in the depths and we're unaware;
perfectly adapted to their life in the dark -
we're clueless about what's really out there!

                      Sea Beauty
                      By Sally Richards
                in azure;
                palest of skin

                salt water stinging
                her soulful blues;
                ebb and flow
                billowing golden hair

               with one splash
               of silver
               she was gone

                     My Secret Haven
By  Annabelle Tipper 

Sailing on the ocean on a warm summer's day,
Watching inquisitive dolphins at play,
I feel all my worries melting away,
Why must I leave ? Here I want to stay!
Nowhere else will you find waters so blue
And it's a perfect haven for wildlife too;
Believe me when I say it's true,
You'll never see such a magnificent view!
But this tranquil scene is all in my mind,
Somewhere my thoughts escape to when I find
Myself trodden down by the daily grind,
A place I visit when I need to unwind.

                     Savage Seas
                      By Diane Wilson 
The pounding waves hurl might at harbour stones
and rock our trembling hearts with fearsome cold,
while blizzards flay our flesh and bones.

A murmured prayer on every lip is told
with hope to stir through hearth and home and street,
as lightning splits the sky and thunder rolls.

We shake to each reverberating beat
and plead our husband's lives be spared tonight.
We curse the angry clouds. The devil's sleet

it drives like nails to rap our knuckles white
and stings our cheeks to bruise them bloody red.
We beg the seething storm to lose the fight.

The lighthouse beam sweeps wide across the head
and scrawls through darkness searching savage seas.
The foaming fury fills weak souls with dread

as black as hate and shrinking courage flees.
The tempest snaps away our words to fling
them wild and careless, drowning feeble pleas.

The heaving breakers roll where gannets cling
to brave the storm and bluster fate.
We shiver, shudder, fearing death will bring

us stumbling to his fiery gate.
No lights of ships in view, so still, we wait.

                     Sea of Despair
By Annabelle Tipper 

Drifting helplessly on a sea of despair,
Lonely, afraid and too tired to care,
Enveloped in a cloak of darkness,
Forcibly restrained by an invisible harness;
Waiting for the oppressive clouds to break,
I've had as much as I can take!
These are stormy waters and turbulent times,
There are no sweet melodies, only discordant rhymes.
Isn't there anyone who could calm my troubled soul?
An angel who'd make my happiness his only goal;
He'd bring me sunshine where once there was rain,
And by sharing my life, he'd ease my pain;
Someone who'd take me gently by the hand,
Leading me safely back to dry land;
I pray he'll find me for I know
I'd hold him tightly and never let go.

The Lighthouse Keeper
 By Richard Godwin

No-one recognised the coral bones as being human.

Badly scarred, they lay scattered among the rocks that broke the waters' edge.
"John was the steadiest, most cheerful chap I ever met," The officer said.

He was inspecting the rocks and looking a little green.
His colleague, an old man with a weathered beard, sucked on his pipe, suppressing a sharp inhalation of breath at the stench.

"Aye, he 'ad his feet well and truly on the ground, that's for sure. Never meet another'n like 'im."
"What on earth has happened here?"

"'Tis the old legend again. My grandaddy told it afore, and I recall it well sitting on his knee."
"I'm not into legends, only solving crimes here. A man's missing. A good man at that, and the lighthouse is deserted. And, his colleague's nowhere to be seen. Young Tom was specifically appointed to keep John company and there's no sign of him. Did you check the office?"

"Aye. But, 'e'll no' be found. 'Tis not called locally The Dark House for nought. Look about ye - the spot's unearthly."
"I have an investigation to carry out here. What's that?"

He was refering to some sticky, luminous substance that shimmered at the rocks' edge. Night was setting-in rapidly, blackening the distant shoreline, and, shivering, they left the forsaken spot.
Their boat sped off towards the pub on the mainland where a few whiskies drowned away the experience.

But, as the darkness fell on the deserted lighthouse, and its single beam flashed across the waves, the waters broke a second time.
From a window at the top of the tower, alone and shaking, Tom watched as they rose from the sea again.

He had stood trembling in soiled trousers while they tore John limb from limb and watched mutely as they ripped the flesh from his bones, strips of red meat dangling from their claws, their eyes red and lunar.
Now, he pressed his face hard against the cold window pane, unable to speak or think from exhaustion and fear.

They don't have claws - none of the books say they have claws - what is they?
The music started again, the shrill, humming drone, high-pitched and soporific as heroin. Without thought, he found himself moving from the window and down the stairs.

They're no mermaids - mermaids don't exist - they're something else - some monster - I'll 'phone for help...
And, then, the cold air struck his face and they were upon him.

Only the light and his screams and the beautiful, ungodly faces - smiling as they ate him, starting at his legs and working up across his body in some strange erotic feast. The last thing he smelt was the salt air, the last thing he saw was the moon as he screamed with ecstasy and agony and bled across the rocks whose surface was washed clean by the breaking waters which carried them away.
The only thing left next morning when the boat returned were more scattered bones....



Sea Of Dreams
By Aeronwy Dafies 

The sea  is the substance of my dreams
A swirl of eddies of fantasy and fancy
That absorbs me into its totality