Category: Nature

The Soul of the Sea

I remember, at the age of four,

a violent storm that blew outside

like nothing else upon this earth –

when I was taken near high tide

to feel that force of Nature’s birth.

Within the shelter of the land

the trees would sway and whip and sigh,

below the dark and dreary sky.

Before the beach a bank stood high,

with us behind, within its lee;

we climbed to face the deafening roar

and fought to stand upon the shore,

and saw the savage sea.

~

Far offshore great mountains boomed,

crashing in heaping boiling whites,

spray streaks pulling through the air –

bright in the green and purple light.

The salty blast blew through my hair,

blew through my clothes like paper, soaking

my face, my eyes, and stinging my nose.

I shuddered, cold from scalp to toes,

in awe as Nature’s violence rose.

~

And here I am in silent air,

nothing moving in this room,

trapped in a timeless, heavy gloom.

~

But I remember being there,

and once again I long to be

a shaking figure fixed before

a mighty storm upon the sea

with huge waves crashing on the shore.

~

And I will see that storm arrive,

my feelings swelling with its rise,

a fire burning in my eyes,

insignificant beneath tremendous skies,

the Atlantic blast beating through me,

a smile behind my wild eyed stare,

knowing that I should be there –

a part of Nature, with Nature in me,

alive in that moment, with the soul of the sea.

The House by the Sea

Winter leaves a land

of still anticipation,

bathed in orange light.

~

Biscuits, coffee, nestled in

his ship – a cutter perched on rusty

barrels, small before the sun.

~

A nearby nest of lanes – the garden

done, she heads to yellow flames, as coldness comes,

and cuts, and the colours merge to grey.

~

And as they sink within the

night, I think of them, the single house,

the trees and whispering sea.

~

When I return, the

smiles will be warm, and I will

find a part of me.

Big Triku ‘My Carriage’

The future need not

be helplessly drawn, as the

past charges ahead.

~

I made these spinning wheels, sped

them with regret. I set it free, off

in a whinnying canter.

~

Horizons unfold

all round. I turn to look, then

place my first next step.

Big Triku ‘My Carriage’

The future need not

be helplessly drawn, as the

past charges ahead.

~

I made these spinning wheels, sped

them with Regret. I set it free, off

in a whinnying canter.

~

Horizons unfold

all round. I turn to look, then

place my first next step.

Standing Up Again

Note: the poem in this post is the same as in the last post from early this morning – the difference is the photo; I went to the location that is the main setting of the poem and took this photo today, under the tree; whereas the previous photo, which I also like, is the beach on the coast in front, where the breeze brushes around the rocks and ‘vraic’ (a Channel Islands term for seaweed). This post shows both of these photos 🙂

I’m sorry that I lost my way

to end up here, beneath this tree,

its withered branches reaching low

to touch the ground, and shelter me.

~

Bracken wavers in the breeze,

that blew across the bay, below;

that brushed around the rocks, and vraic;

that found – past land – its upward flow.

~

A small seed traces through my gaze,

bobbing round, a spectre borne

in secret air; I watch it each

way torn, now trapped upon a thorn.

~

A bee appears, darts directly

to the wind, shoots up high,

and joins in currents of the air

to vanish quickly in the sky.

~

The wind now breaks inside my den

and rushes coldly through my heart,

I know the time is come for me

to let my foolish worries part.

~

With so much good, why should I fear

I’ll helplessly be drawn away?

I’ll choose my mind and set my course and

live, still better, every day.