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Outworn
alone with my song
I find on the shore
an old boat
like the last drinking horn
green and thin
Poemas sobre el tema: shore
Poemas sobre el tema «shore» en Poets.by.
Lying alone
the north shore taken
by the night
At the shore
holiday
like water in the hand
going to sea
my thoughts still running
on my money
Salt cure
I came to name my place
a poor little island
after a pill
that shore
rough with wear
may do more good than I know
Dispatch from the front
This day is ash.
The war continues, and the sea
takes a body that was
a person in the land.
The shore sang,
a messenger from tomorrow.
Shore Leave
A day bright as silver,
the women in black like boats
swimming in the sea.
On shore, I walk like a captain:
I roll, not able to stand.
Diagnosis
I found myself out
of order and cold
like a boat in the trees,
silver and ancient.
I ought to fall
towards the shore, landing
somewhere among the reeds
like a clear fruit of water.
Quest
I long to go to several places
and be still.
How rich, on another shore,
to come to the same white ringing—
like a cheap joy
or tallow for the king of absence.
Currency
I walk to the spit
to hear the water, seen
so often—
like gone money
left in a bed.
In Another Country
Walking the streets of Cochin
Walking back in time.
Walking over my footprints
Walking, tracing, remembering.
Remembering shadows of a spent youth
Remembering lights bright and empty streets.
Remembering an open window, a shut door
Remembering light filtering thru leaves.
Gone- the room, the hotel, the lane
Garbage piled up where geese once honked.
Gone- the shops with fruits and cakes
Gone- the girls with shy smiles and love.
A stranger to faces rushing by
Strange indeed, the memories bidding bye.
Did I ever live here, doeth my breath linger here?
Did I ever stand in this shade- why, only a stump is here!
* * *
I miss the way you hold me tight and tell me you want more time.
In those moments it feels like we have nothing but time and after you're gone it passes too fast.
Blink and you might miss something,
I blink and I miss you.
You're not one I can call mine,
You wander and change like the tides of the sea.
But one thing I know about the sea, it will always come back to the shore.
I am that lonely shore waiting for your water to grace me, but times are different now.
They're difficult.
I cannot call out to you and ask your return,
It isn't like that anymore
I just wait patiently, never moving, never changing.
Watching time move swiftly as days turn to weeks,
Aphasia
What we came to expect from that gradual cadence
was the feeling that nothing remained
to be said, a harbinger
of colder and more desolate fortunes.
"She buys more socks." As if that sudden switch
to the present tense were a panacea
for the glum architecture...
not only these dark corners
but also those which already were
bright as day.
Which was the least of my extrapolations.
The thickets, their self-indulgent fragments,
confronted my blazer; but more generally,
a slowness and a marked tendency
to fatigue, that generous euphemism,
took the cake.