A well-placed seat, solid concrete,
at each end carved whales flick their tails,
spout droplets of stone, in the wind sing
their tidal passion, lives on global scale.
Here treachery wears blue slippers
her long train glitters with rainbow light
she shakes loose her green, daisy-strewn curls
signposts whirl, fences sink from sight.
She dances on, in her skirts sea pinks hide,
seat tumbles, sand storms scar the sky
bounced to the beach sea crumbles,
set free in roaring sea whales sigh,
send up great fountains of spray
salt soothes the land ears from split skin;
crucible tails rise, moonlight splinters
tide silvers a cyclone of fluke and fin.
Cold north waters echo with a new sound
homecoming prisoners sing their freedom.
One of the reasons the cliffs of the Isle of Wight are constantly falling into the sea is an underlying clay called 'blue slipper'.