- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Hometime
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Across the bay lie the Jellyfish.
Anonymous mounds of orange-yellow
waiting for the children
with buckets and spades,
sticks and pebbles,
wonder and passion.
The clinking, clanking,
wind whipped rigging
bears an accompaniment
to the raucous, disparaging mewling
of black-tipped wings, spilling air,
carrying plaintive gulls
in search of abandoned fries.
Expectant, fat drops of rain
give birth to splotches of wetness as they hit,
dappling concrete and wood,
just and unjust alike.
The rhythm of the rigging slows
as the birds drift always earthwards
to the chill breast of the still water,
hungry as ever, but denied their role
by the oncoming downrush.
Flat calm becomes splish-sploshed
with the darkling sky's bounty
as the tide across the way
claims its decaying denizens
before home kept children dare venture.
An empty thermos and vacant silver foil packaging
give mute testimony to brighter times gone
the ending day making all home-ward bound
to remember
with smiles and nods
the sounds and smells,
calls and recollections.
Then, generous to the last, a wish is granted.
Through dismal overcast, lances flame,
emblazoning white hulls and silvered masts
and lighting those raindrop crowns
dancing on the water.
To waken dozing gulls,
scattering them heavenwards,
to search once more with cacophonous chorus.
'Just 5 more minutes' to partake of the beauty that is Bridlington.
- COMMENTS
Lauren Hyndeover 20 years agoA great first dive into poetry, G.
I enjoyed the richness of the language, the terseness of the content, the overall tangibility of a fine poem. Well done.
Anonymousover 20 years ago...so I have nothing to add except to endorse the other comments. Gauche - you have a great voice that just needs a little training to hit the truly high notes. Looking for more.
Icingsugarover 20 years agoA great start on your poetizing, oh gauchy man. Hoping to read more from your pen.
Also, a great start on this poem. The first few stanzas are perfectly clean cut, and paints a very clear image that speaks directly to me. In the end you kind of lose me though, by being a little bit too elaborate for this down-to-earth piece:
"Through dismal overcast, lances flame,
emblazoning white hulls and silvered masts"
The scene this paint for me is absolutely wonderful, but it took me a few reads to understand the imagery (still not 100% sure I do).
Still, good job!
Eumenidesover 20 years agoYour poem is rich with ten dollar words, but those words overshadow the picture as a whole. This is a portrait, but I lose the portrait in all the shadowing you're trying to create by using those words. I keep saying words, to which one might say, "poems are words" but in my mind poems are well chosen words strung together to create a picture. I get so lost in your word choice that I forget what the setting is, and I don't feel at the end like I get a sense of what Bridlington means to you. I guess, in a way, the words make you lose the you in the poem.
perksover 20 years agoand I know you're there, but I have to say I find this poem to be sophomorically wordy. Maybe sophmoric is a bit too evil, but there's nt punch, no passion, no intensity. I'm wondering why you're writing this poem? I need your subtext, there is no simplicity in your picture, and therefor I want more. I feel like you're in between writing I don't know something more and something less.
confusing, still it's ok.
