The earth is eighty percent covered in water. Within that volume from surface ripples to the great abyss are millions of tiny plants (phyto-plankton), these are fundamental to the well-being of the planet.


Manic pound of demonic storm,

black edged wind ripping unfurled wave,

tossed upon a heaving swell

 rising lathered in unconscious heat

a seething soup of life upwells.

The plankton froth that flies in plumes

frothing spume in spindrift rent

breathing deep a carbon breath

the cleansing spin of wild typhoon.

Scorching on a levelled blue,

basked in sun, on doldrum still,

these replicating drifters dance

and fashion frames as Faberge.

In untold legions of crafted guild

 binding minerals in skeletal grasp,

to turn, aloof, in pirouette

with ballerina point and swirl.

Diamond lace in sparkling mist

casts a mesmerising grace

as metachronal rhythm beats

through the column to the depths.

Poised to balance this turning orb

they sink to deep abyssal ooze.

Pressed and squeezed in compacted death

to turn as continents reborn.

In global warming waters rising

a final spasm, a poisoned flush.

A wild, ecstatic, unbounded bloom

then in multitudes they fade.

Acid sea makes wraith like;




no terror formed

fulcrum gone

past tipping point.

Rob T                                                  Dec 2015