Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
robert-zanfadPoems
This was my sand yesterday, Hot and gritty, Yet comforting, embracing Under my towel. Troves of precious shards of shell Mapped into mind With the jellyfish abandoned By the tide Just out of reach of cool waters And a pool carved With ramparts and towers, An ambitious child's construction Proudly pronounced eternal. But we took pictures To remember, Anyway. Now, after breakfast, Into blue too perfect This morning's sun rose To a sky spilled Cloudless and clear Over new land Reformed by night swells Gulls and terns blown on, Friends' footprints cleared, The castle lost By waves or wind's gusts. It seems alien now. My toes dig ever deeper To discover if warmth Is still here, hiding below The surface of what I can see. Morning's winds fling Biting bits chipped From far-off mountains Cheek and legs sting In force of anger born Far offshore, While the children nestle My jacket for shelter It can't give them today. The tourists left - the sand is ours To reshape, imprint with feet again. And plan for tomorrow - Umbrella, blanket, pails, Embrace sea's eternal rhythm. We'll stay.
0
Sep 19, 2009
Sep 19, 2009 at 3:36 PM UTC
An Eleventh of September
This was my sand yesterday, Hot and gritty, Yet comforting, embracing Under my towel. Troves of precious shards of shell Mapped into mind With the jellyfish abandoned By the tide Just out of reach of cool waters And a pool carved With ramparts and towers, An ambitious child's construction Proudly pronounced eternal. But we took pictures To remember, Anyway. Now, after breakfast, Into blue too perfect This morning's sun rose To a sky spilled Cloudless and clear Over new land Reformed by night swells Gulls and terns blown on, Friends' footprints cleared, The castle lost By waves or wind's gusts. It seems alien now. My toes dig ever deeper To discover if warmth Is still here, hiding below The surface of what I can see. Morning's winds fling Biting bits chipped From far-off mountains Cheek and legs sting In force of anger born Far offshore, While the children nestle My jacket for shelter It can't give them today. The tourists left - the sand is ours To reshape, imprint with feet again. And plan for tomorrow - Umbrella, blanket, pails, Embrace sea's eternal rhythm. We'll stay.
robert-zanfad
Written by
robert-zanfad
American
Sep 19, 2009
Sep 19, 2009 at 3:36 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem