Mast-high pilons rooted knee-deep
and slapped by bickering waves
abrupt and cold,
salt-crusted sea cow tongues
washing creosote, lapping the black
cringing in retreat
waiting then swelling again
their ancient hunched shoulders
pummeling the shore
in a rough stadium shove
dripping their liquid rage
of full-fetched ocean and foam
stretched and rolled beyond limits
potential velocity breached and broken
while terns and kittiwakes play on invisible currents
high wire acts riding on daredevil wings
flickering silhouettes from kohl to silver
shimmering white then back to black again
frontside to backside
caught in sunlighted beams
fishnet patterns on blustering cyan blue skies
flocking smoke signals upon the milky haze
dipping, rising, daring swoops and arcs
Two terns tease a solitary grey-winged king of the pilon
a chanting glaucous gull, smooth and clean
om mani padme hum, cries the beggar bird
standing aloof, detached and rooted in observation
Across from the harbor a broad windowed café
flowering weeds and a climbing rose dance
red against white behind weathered grey benches
There, gathering the morning sun,
a writer sits, intense and frowning
lost in the force and dimension of imagine
and beyond her runs a mocking ghost fence
traversing the field beside the coast road
hung on it’s gate with rust-bleeding screws
a wooden board, time-peeled paint,
chipped and blistered
tells its own half-dead but still kicking story in black on white:
Private, it says.
No Trespassing
gulls painting may be purchased from: http://www.carolthompson.com/seabirds/harbor-gulls/index.htm
Entered in: http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/
http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/
http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2012/04/thursday-poets-rally-week-65-april-5.html
This is so beautiful, the charm of a harbour
Hi, Ina. It just feels great to get something posted again. I’ve been working on other less creative stuff – glad to find my toes back in poetry sand and all the more rewarding when my favorite poets reply. Thanks so much.
Beautifully done!
Thank you Francis – your visual poetry and gorgeous artwork inspires me to look deeper with words. I really appreciate your visit. Come again!!
Thanks, Francis. Glad you enjoyed it. I forgot to mention how much I love your artwork. It’s wonderful – very poetic just to look at.
I like the language of the beggar bird. Also the ‘fishnet patterns’. Jane
That’s so funny – I was trying to illustrate the way birds fly, like shoals of fish, with the whole community weaving a hollow shaped bag of sorts that bulges and twists and flows like sand in a jar – and I kept using the word haynet. I used to work with horses, so the haynet seemed like the right object but sounded wrong. Suddenly it hit me – ocean – fish – fisherman – OH! fishnet! duh…and the contortions I went through to get there. double duh.
I call this ‘pressing on the words’… well worth agonizing over the word if it is the right one in the end!!!! Jane
I like that – pressing. It makes me think of kneading bread, which is what we do when we write, knead and rise, knead and rise, then voila! we publish (bake) and eat.
Great analogy. Jane
Your use of language is excellent!
I love: “salt-crusted sea cow tongues
washing creosote, lapping the black
cringing in retreat”
Thank you, everedwater. It took several weeks to get that combination of words working for me. Amazing how one word out of place changes the whole picture!
Excellent writing . . . so variegated and delightful!
Thank you Kay! What a wonderful word for describing poetry – variegated. Stretching words outside their normal boundaries is the sign of another poet, me thinks!
I’m glad I found your site. What I like about this poem is the way it moves from nature to the human (cafe, writer, fence etc), from the present to the past (rust-bleeding screws, time-peeled paint etc), and from the tangible to the speculative (who put that sign there, and why?)
And we’re left wondering whether the writer is the writer of the poem or another. If she is the writer of the poem, then there’s that unexpected prohibition about further speculation: in black on white it tells us “Private – No Trespassing”. That’s a neat little conclusion!
I love it when someone reads a poem deeper than the surface and you dove right in. Your feedback actually pointed out something I wasn’t consciously aware of, but it rings true. Thank you so much for your thoughtful response.
You have a rare descriptive prose, which also flows: ‘lapped by bickering waves’ was my favourite amongst many lovely turns of phrase. Great stuff!
Thank you, Zen mirror. I like your blog name.
Very beautiful I must say the poetry and the picture both conveys the connection of mind and thoughts with nature
Loved it
Keep up the good work
Cheers
Dawn
You have such a way with words, and I’m glad you’re writing again. I’ve missed seeing your name. I live in a coastal town, and although your description is far more vivid than this place is (it’s a very grey and miserable place to live), your words remind me of sitting on the seafront, watching seagulls whirling around in the sky.
Gorgeous.
Such a vivid picture you paint with words!
Thank you for such vivid imagery – you really took me to that salty, cool sea space with the birds crying overhead.
) Here’s my offering this week: http://caridwen.wordpress.com/2012/04/04/drafting-in-memoriam-adrienne-rich/
Thanks cerridwen! I want to say I enjoyed your site as well, but can anyone “enjoy” shingles? According to you, many nasty things are far more desirable. Poor thing, I hope you recover quickly. Best of luck.