Land and Water in Britain

Poem

by Isabel Worden-Klym

Pea-soup waves boil in the English Channel.

The three-hour trip is a five-hour ordeal,

As my daughter hurls in a sea-green stall.




I cool my head on a light-green panel, 

Eyeing the seasick who stagger and reel,

As we sail pea-soup waves in the Channel.




The high-pitching corridors rise and fall;

December weather shipboard ill-appeals,

As my daughter heaves in a sea-green stall.




Green décor is more than I can handle!

Why some sick lout chose sea green, so unreal,

When pea-soup waves boil in the Channel?




A green more like chartreuse surrounds us all,

Bobbing up and down, too ill to eat a meal.

Still my daughter retches in a sea-green stall.




Landfall at last! My nerves are unraveled.

Safe inside the seawall, docked and even-keeled,

Though roiling pea-soup waves boil in the Channel,

My white-faced daughter quits the sea-green stall.