The Ocean

Years ago I lived just a few blocks from the ocean, and I could hear it sometimes. During a few walks on the beach, one day I started writing this poem.

 

Beyond the doorstep, soft noon light beckons

and white curtains dance peacefully in pristine breezes,

intermittingly unveiling the golden rays of a living halo,

that of the high-pillared marble threshold to Paradise.

Down the forgotten corridors of Valinor rushes a voice,

deeper than Europa's oceans, vaster than the resting sky,

smooth as a whispering feather ...

Hush... lay down your shield and accept this gift,

the stems are not broken, the leaves' fragrance is yet sweet.

Man of sands, shells, and windy strewn sorrows,

too long have you slept in the sunken treasure chest,

the Indian canoe is lost among the salty beach wood,

and your coins, jewels, even those precious sapphires

and necklaced tears, sifted as dust between dry fingers,

aching, as your white horse galloped away,

never to return ...

Come closer, eyes that mirror creation.

Behold the crashing foam, the majestic white beard,

the first child rising to the surface, gasping for breath

the young moon, singing meteors, and purple stars,

primordial pools lapping as the bubbling steam cooled

Return as the receding tides to the now tempered sea.

Submerge all your memories in the rippling prisms,

along with your rusted suit of armor and helm.

The water understands you

There is rebirth, as a sun before the dawn of time.

 

Hear the echo of ancient bustling ports. Centuries, ages

Seagulls crying victorious hymns that circle and circle,

calling wanderers to behold the seashores for the first time.

Touch the morning-warm ramparts, carved decks, and sails.

Hear the spirit meditations in coral abodes of green-blue

Observe the liquid enthroned rush of seaweed garbed deities

lifted by the hands of Poseidon’s glimmering scaled daughters

Seahorses whinnying in faraway, temperate azure bays,

the merciful relief dolphins bring to the despairing lost,

waves caressing journeying whale families, voices navigating,

to guide the compasses of the brave seafarers beyond

to the unmapped frontiers and to the marine gates

that are always closing and opening,

always singing, always waiting,

upon the undulating prism path.

to lead the ships to the sky

to the palace of sunset windows

Reviews

[Jordan]

So this is what sailors, rovers, and rogues are greeted with upon death. I can live with that. Very calming. It kinda calls to me, draws me in....

...oh my gosh. You wrote a siren song! A person could drown to this. Nice try, K, but you won't have my soul this time.

[Kuandio]

Lol. I never thought of it that way, but I like the review

[Mockingbird]

a beautiful meditation on the ocean and nature. excellent imagery. conveys heart-felt emotion. intelligent and insightful poem.

[SyberRose]

You have interpreted the language of nature and the whispers of the ocean perfectly...enjoyed...Rose

[Marie Salerno]

I love the beach ... bike along side it here & love to just listen to it while I read (& write sometimes). So I am partial to poems regarding the beach:) What a fantastic write! You captured the unique beauty of the ocean perfectly in your poem. The "picture" you draw with your words is spot on. You reveal her story so eloquently. A good read. Nice job.

[M.D. Aguiar]

A very lyrical piece; many lines are exquisitely mellifluous. The imagery is not exceptionally lucid but an illusion of lucidity is given by the inherent lyricism of the work. Overall, an enjoyable piece.

[EastN]

Your talent for figurative language is something else. Good job. The third paragraph was, in my opnion, the best section.