The Whales

I did not see the whales.

The other beachgoers
shouting, gesturing gaping.

Shielding, squinting, straining:
only a steady line between blues,
the surf pounding the day away.

Beachly stuff resumes:
Children splashing,
The surf pounding,
Me still squinting,
The unchanging line.

I fear, know,
There’s so little time.

Todays poetry contest submission was written by Charles Nevi.


Do you think it could possibly be one of the best new poems of 2013?