She listens to the waves
gently lapping on the shore
the gurgle before the swoosh;
feels the sun upon her face
watches it glisten on the sea
and feels content to sit and do
absolutely nothing.
Sunday Seaside
Sight line ends
where water creases sky.
Rhythmic waves,
the breath of wind.
Gulls glide by in slow motion.
Clouds first pink,
turn violet grey.
Glisten paths upon the sea.
Surely I am in church today,
my knees upon the sand
seeking intercession
in genuflection,
closer my God to thee.
Photos from beach by our deck in Provincetown. Assignment from my September 21 Day Challenge was to write a poem using the strategy of litany (listing) and end with a longer sentence, with a stronger meaning.
….and the fall shall come
Cool crisp sun filled morn
sand colder between my toes
sea shore autumn calm.
Silent Sound
Waves lap, winds gust
two gulls quarrel over one morsel
breath cools hot black liquid
sips then swallows.
All these sounds
echo in my ears
yet here I sit,
amidst the silence of the sea.
Another beautiful Provincetown sunrise. Sadly, our two weeks is about to end. Tis a special place – truly food for the soul.
Paring Knife
Onion skin not tracing paper
artichoke leaves and banana peel
burnt sienna letters from a crayon stub
nun-born guilt and corn silk
flame licked bark on tossed in twig
all these things she became
each time his words
peeled her raw.
Ideas within the Tide
Beads of wet
on grey wooden slats
reveal smooth foot prints
within pools of dew.
Purple veined hand
tames breeze ruffled pages,
etches black ink phrases
between blue lines.
Noon sun directly overhead
deck floor dry, tracks gone
forehead drenched
in streams of sweat.
Words flounder,
pen drags letters
as ideas dry up
like low tide sand.
A New Day Dawns
And the sun shall break forth,
blush clouds pink then shift
seep tinges of deep warm reds.
A lonely gull sits sentinel,
witness to the changing palette
as waves stir the sands.
And somewhere a newborn cries
seeks her mother’s breast
as seedlings sprout in a monet garden.
For this is a new day to claim
cause and determination for joy
because we can.
We touch, we live to love
this day another,
thankful
together.
A Dream Too Sad
In the misty dawn,
at the abyss of my dream
limbs shudder,
charred pleas in ebony.
Seedlings lie in state,
interred by ash.
Plundered by flame,
the earth crackles for foolish men
and soft rain begins to fall,
her tears for grandeur lost.
Home Then or Again?
Scuffed Red Wing leather boots tread across forest floor. Trekking poles swing naturally at my side, two more points of contact to the earth. Closest thing to being four limbed.
Sun filters through leaves, beams on stands of gooseberry red, chokecherry orange and fiddlehead green. I walk through scrubby tree roots, climb over rocks to cross a stream, carried by wind and sun and bird song in the air.
Last week’s hike swirls fading as I maneuver city streets. Blue suit jostled, surrounded by tall grey, red brick towers that block the sun, save corners where green lights mean go. High heels comply, stumble from curb to pavement, and my feet ache again.
Written from a September Challenge prompt: juxtapose opposites in a more subtle wording of contrast. A prose poem.
Cool Waters
I lie perfectly still, face to sky
on a clear plastic air mattress
plumped with my breath.
Sea breeze ruffles tendrils,
flutter-touch my forehead
warmed by afternoon sun.
Softly bobbing near the shore
fingers trail in cool waters
while ocean croons its song.
I drift, eyes closed
through barriers of time
afloat in my mother’s womb.
This was a challenging prompt in my September 21 Day Challenge course: Use description but notice the difference between language that shows the reader a world, and language that tells a reader what you (or your speaker) think about it or feel about.
