- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Winter Harbor
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Click hereSea roses big as saucers
climb on a bench where the cemetery
overlooks the peninsula. We are
on that rocky finger near rows
of gravestones, sentinels
of the blue expanse and three islands
rising in a sea serpent's dive
toward Cadillac Mountain, us
alone with pink Yankee granite
and stunted cedars more tenacious
than barnacles. Crowds of giant spruce
ring every open space, even tidal pools
are shadowed in thick branches,
awash in moss, broken clamshells.
Buoys dance on wavelets. You put
your arm around me and pointed,
There's Europe baby, but I looked
behind us at rusted lobster traps
beyond the dock and thought. Oh!
The sun is splashing into the end
of the ocean.
Birdcalls echoed a foghorn,
wind blew on the white stones,
but we just sat on a rock.
I have that cedar cone I held
in my palm. It's so light,
but my fingertips remember
its rough stony leaves, my mouth
remembers the soft corner
of your mouth, how the curve
of your lip tasted salty.
When the moon awoke
I heard pine trees hiss. You
breathed your secret night whispers.
I tucked a quilt around you.
- COMMENTS
dcpoet44almost 19 years agowith picturesque scenes. but i'm smitten with the ending of this piece......nice job ange.......don
Anonymousalmost 19 years ago....should go to the beach more often if this is the result. Lovely, Ange.
Tess
Bridget69almost 19 years agowhich leaves one feeling warm and at ease. A nice soothing piece.
WickedEvealmost 19 years agoWell, reading this simply left me content. I want to read it again before I go to sleep so I can have very nice dreams. What a great poem. Sorry, for the almost childish comments but it was like a lullaby to me. I just love it. :)
Syndra Lynnalmost 19 years agosimply wonderful. The last 2 stanzas melted in my mouth like a fine confection.
sandspikealmost 19 years agoYou have more colors than my blonde and blue beaches.
This is a romantic and wonderous picture you have painted.
I felt a warmth on a rocky shore. sandspike
Tathagataalmost 19 years agois a great place isn't it?
That last verse:
~When the moon awoke
I heard pine trees hiss. You
breathed your secret night whispers.
I tucked a quilt around you. ~
could stand on it's own as a poem.
You captured the beauty and anger and solitude of the coast wonderfully
Nice job, as always.
Thank you
