This is an attempt to describe the incredible experience of seeing an iceberg slowly topple over during a boat trip across the Polar Stream whilst on a trekking holiday in Greenland.
The poem is designed to be read to understand the experience and then it can be turned on its side to see the shape of the iceberg.


Death of an iceberg

I am an ice child of the Arctic North,
calved from my mother into alien waters.
A sibling procession down the Polar Stream.
We are Leviathan, Behemoth, Titanic and Growler.

Sweat trickles down my icy flanks as I heat in the sun.
My bottom is licked away by warm ripples
until I topple to reveal old tidemarks
as I shrink to a melted


©Richard Kefford 2016

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