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Fifty-foot shadows on waves

A recent poem. This one isn’t so personal, but I really like the style that it experiments with. (But I am toying with a more personal poem, with a style along the lines of Waiting or Despedida, and in a similar style, so stay tuned! Maybe it’ll even be a diamond poem) In the meantime, enjoy this poem:

Flickers of sun on a beach
Fifty-foot shadows on waves
Quiet and still: morning breaks
Sit and watch the sun slowly rise
Dawn light on this turqouise sea
Rolling waves, flinging water:
Foam-spray, and crash on the beach
Dance at my feet and shy away.
Back to the infinite sea.
Soft painted shore and sea-waves.
Queietly calling, calling:
Who, who are you calling to?
How do they hear it and come?
Sitting by the waves. Watching
the new sunrise, inviting
But staying, sitting, waiting:
Living.

Storm rolls in and grey clouds clash.
Waves grow huge and lightnings flash.
Roaring black kind of the deep,
Not sleeping, not anymore.
Waking to claim his kingdom.
Armies of water roll in
Amidst the shuddering waves:
Not calling, but ordering
Come with us. You. Come with us
Come or we will pull you down
Me sitting there, soaking it in
Broad daylight, but the sun hides
Behind towered clouds and fog
Sheets of slicing rain cover.
Mouth wide-open: drinking rain
Listening to the storm-sound:
Living.

Clear open sky and glass seas
Walk on the beach and leave footprints
No waves to wipe them away.
Still the same sea as before,
But now…all quiet and still.
The beach, dressed in dusk and dark
Moon rising to claim her place
Total quiet on the beach.
No more an order or call
Now only a quiet whisper,
“Come Home,” I finally hear.
And where is Home after all?
When the wind stops blowing
And the waves are done crashing
Still I’ll sit here on this beach
Looking for Home in the skies:
Living.

Andrew Joyce

At first I wanted to call this poem “Ocean Twenty-Four,” but that title doesn’t really do it justice. And the second line is definitely my favorite, so it became the title.

(Photo Credit John Carey)