• Rate this poem
User Review
4.83 (6 votes)


written by: Henry Bladon


In the middle of the lake
the boatman blows his whistle.

Ripples appear
as the pristine white swan glides in.

The boatman reaches
into a bag
and throws food
into the lake.

The swan nibbles
at the water
before paddling off.

The boatman watches the bird,
he smiles and nods to himself.

Henry Bladon

Henry Bladon

Henry is a writer of all types of fiction based in Somerset in the UK. He has a PhD in creative writing from the University of Birmingham and runs a writing support group for people with mental health issues. His work has been in entropy, 50WordStories, Bloodaxe, The Ekphrastic Review, thedrabble and FridayFlashFiction among other places.
Henry Bladon

Latest posts by Henry Bladon (see all)

Read previous post:
A Hairy Drive, a haiku by Robyn MacKinnon at Spillwords.com
A Hairy Drive

A Hairy Drive written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat   I had a dream that a float with giant snowflakes was...