A Storm

30 03 2010

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Storm

A storm approaches, struggling, slow, Along the jagged maine.

From journeys past, and present tense, that always seem the same.

Her oceans bright and cleansing waves, I crack the pain to hear.

Yet mans machines, a tempest wage, in yonder room to rear.

 

She sits in backrooms of my mind, God knows the reason why.

For if she sat alone with me, in parlours of her sky,

She’d seem more constant -real again- like in the days gone by.

When I was young, and had such fun, and knew that I could fly.

 

She gave me courage, gave me hope, her sounding, rhythmic hum.

A shining flourish, was my soul, way back when it was young.

I still can grasp a moment, of that sweetly gentle taste.

Yet moments are the things I am, I have not one to waste.

 

Her tide be full, and moon to match, one wonders when she’ll top.

When I walked down, upon her sieve, My footfalls quickly stopped.

Man has made her shrink a bit, by things he put out there,

Amongst the green, and so serene, Posiedons’ mighty lair.

 

I think I’ll sit and muse a bit, and keep an eye to sea.

And softly write, for her this night, my love and company.

A greater gift she could not give, then letting me stand by,

While energy, she always wields, lets all her colors fly.

 

Her bays and strands, her greenest stands, belay the force she brings.

Her sands and shoals, make broken, whole, and give the gulls their wings.

Her silken mists, cannot resist, the lure of rocks and weeds.

While gales that blow, lay nothing low, lest something on it feeds.

 

When tide goes low, her treasure trove, will on her bright sands sit.

While gulls on wings, and walking things, come out to browse and pick.

I’ll join in then, without my pen, for wonders on the shore,

Will surely find, within my mind, a place where they’ll be stored.

 

She beckons now, a roaring vow, that makes my spirit soar.

She howls and grinds, and in my mind, her voice begins to roar.

I’m drawn to view, this beauty, who, has seen all ages pass.

Her wisdom grows, as gales throw, and waves forever crash.

 

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6 responses

10 01 2012
claudia

what a beautiful ode to the sea…you capture her magic with words that just seem to flow in the rhythm of her waves…much enjoyed..

11 01 2012
birchpoet

Thanks for reading Claudia. I know rhyming isn’t ‘in’ anymore but I just can’t help myself. 🙂

11 01 2012
brian miller

nice…this has a wonderful cadence which matches the subject matter well….ah to stand on her shores…rhyming is not a bad things…smiles…glad to see you at the pub

11 01 2012
birchpoet

Thanks so much for reading. Feeling welcome at the pub,

11 01 2012
charlesmashburn

who says rhyming isn’t in anymore! Most everything I write rhymes (the one I posted today is one of the few that don’t). Your poem not only rhymes, it has a wonderful cadence to it. Write on and rhyme on!

http://charleslmashburn.wordpress.com/2012/01/10/the-sun-came-up-again-4/

11 01 2012
birchpoet

:))) I’m a big Robert Service, Edgar Guest fan. Thanks for reading!

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