Graveling Point~

I beach my car at the concrete

barrier

between my skin

and the dew of the sea

 

Mornings collect in mist

a curiously comforting shawl

around old men in cars

scrutiny in their cataract eyes

observing the white veil

pull

away

from Atlantic City

on the horizon

across a stretch of sea

 

The boats bob

fishermen hip deep

pulling sea life

from the bottom

for the restaurants along Route 9

 

My dawn

draws herself across the sky

my carapace

thirsty for the edge of the shoreline

I exit metal

for gravel and sand

 

My arms move

like Thai dreams

the atmosphere

my loom

feet in rhythm

bleeding above shell casings

the music

of waves

in an otherwise silent

performance

 

I wonder if they think me mad

their Graveling Point

morning girl

dancing for old men

by the sea

while they sip youth

from a McDonald's coffee cup

and pretend to read the paper

 

Divinity

connects

itself a pattern

in brindled hands

wrinkled

by the tides

 

My latte cools

in the distance

of a human memory

unimportant

as the sea

enters

my bones

as I enter ancient eyes

weeping above the steam

of dark coffee

 

Graveling Point

has its own magik

between a concrete barrier

and a mad girl

with

ankle bells

jingling

 

 

copyright:2011vssmd/amusemusepress

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

Author's Note

~ a bit of truth in this~every morning Graveling Point pulls my thread to its shores~ =)~

Reviews

[JelliFyshKissUs]

Isn't it amazing what one simple but profoundly beautiful birth of nature can do for our souls? Hearing the purest of sounds--the earth's own music. Its call for us to join ourselves to the sea. We see our world, our surroundings in an entirely different light! As for this tale of a simple day at Graveling Point, my dovely, you spin into a world of gypsy love and wrinkled-faced reproof and admiration. Delectable!

[FireWoman]

Those fishermen may think you are a siren! A breath of time meant for you, it sounds perfect, just as this reads.

[Robin]

the sounds that come alive when that car door opens - the savory breeze, the rhythm of the waves , the gulls call , gravel underfoot . a mantra of escape ..

[Linda Marie Van Tassell]

Our skin connects us to our manifold destiny, that of birth, youth, and vanity. From birth to death, we are connected as one, young and old. The former unaware of the age to which they are headed, the latter wishing they could return to the former. Our energies blend in one big cosmic rush of thought, collected beautifully within your inspirational words. Your ankle bell thoughts remind us all to dance upon the shores of life, never to reminisce over the dreams unfulfilled.

Linda Marie

[Siddhartha]

Oh, it is simply beautiful Selene. Amazing what nature can do to expectant souls. It needs a pair of eyes to see the magic laid out infront of us. You have found yours in/by the graveling point, and the sea entering the bones is such an exotic statement. It literally made my heart go aflutter.

[SpokenWord]

I like to think that water has healing powers that heal our soul and sometimes our bodies. Your words here made me feel like I was watching a meditation where one connects with the environment around them including the old men hiding stares behind news papers (LOL) cute touch, but with nature itself. In any meditative state one can also speak with elders and learn of things old, present and to come. It is a cleansing of the soul. Jingle on with the ankle bells, cream, latta's and the dance that old men gleam on for a secret smile. Great as always, Selene!

[Kesha]

Your words here are so enticing! I had to read it more than once, graveling point sounds amazing, the way the words flowed and how the lines were cut just made this poem absolutely amazing and such a joy to read.

[OT]

ooo bravo!!!! can just dive into this one - it has a melancholic touch - and apathetic at times - the sea - sweeping - water cleansing yet dragging - i love the "I exit metal
for gravel and sand" - it has quite a strong image in my head - leaving the harsh/metallic for the softer - or earth for the ground even - "distance of a human memory" indeed!! nice! a favourite!

[Larry Dyson]

I love this part "My arms move

like Thai dreams

the atmosphere

my loom

feet in rhythm

bleeding above shell casings

the music

of waves

in an otherwise silent

performance"

[Celeste21]

You are surrounded by poetry (Jealous).. I like the old man that is trying desperately to see with his ancient eyes, and the other old men who pretend to read the paper. That is a story within itself. If they aren't reading the paper, what exactly are they doing? I like how the ocean made you enter "ancient eyes" deepening your thoughts, forever expansive.