In every bone and in every muscle,
With each thought, each spark of
Synapse and each dream image, I
Ache for the sea: her dusty paths,
Her shattered rocks and her
Spikes of gorse that scrape
My shins and paint bloodlines
On my cracked and burning skin.
I need her tendril fingers, threads
Of shoreline brine, pulling me
Down into her freezing depths,
Knocking dead air from these
Choked-up lungs and making me
Kick hard against the wild world,
Challenging me to fight and
Best her thrash and fury.
I need to ride her spray-crowned
Waves, navigate the ever shifting
Valleys of the calm between, and
Land, eventually, among the
Sand and stones, battered by
Her tide-flung mauls of salt water
That vanish like legends: the only
Trace her marks upon the soul.
22nd August 2015
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Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
