expressionless and with a stare that seemed alien the driftwood form floated and tossed in the violent sea not knowing where IT had been or where IT would finish tossing and turning, relying on the forces of nature for guidance direction towards land is more then IT could hope for soon the chaos and turmoil of the sea stopped was IT on sand or still drifting out there in the void IT seemed to be motionless when a blurred image appeared not being able to recognize what IT was not understanding ITs newfound sensations not realizing IT was using a sense of sight was there more to this image that understanding would support what is this occurrence is this simple, is this another new unknown excitement is this even genuine soon, IT appeared to be lifting up, being held quite gently by something or someone IT was suddenly and abruptly raised up and all ITs new sensations ceased what was this, what was ITs final feeling IT had been found...!
Brian Hill - 2020 # 106
What is your interpretation of this piece? Please let me know.
Singly among the sand castles No one noticed until he was there Above him or in his path
We had built him like children Build sand castles We carved and patted him from moist earth He was soft, yet rigid as he lay there His gaze was skyward and uncertain..
We left him there to see what people do And walked a distance to the dunes We watched him among people For he was one now.
They came. Families, elderly couples And children too and stopped To admire and express delight At this sand man's sculptured form.
We felt happiness at the pleasure be brought He made them stop a moment to feel their surroundings And recognize his contented solitude.
Teenage boys came to jeer and leer. One of them looked around as if in secrecy And plunged a driftwood stick at the sandman's groin Then quickly ran away laughing at his tale.
The stick protruded boldly Our sand man's hands were at his sides He felt no ruler of the sands Only a gentle soul made of mockery.
A girl and her brother approached After we had removed the offence. The young boy was waving his 'mighty sword' (Some stick which had washed ashore)
At first, with his sister in charge They stopped to admire But then she walked away, Turned her back to venture on.
"Hello", he said to the sandman As if to acknowledge someone there. Then with his 'mighty sword' he pierced Into the sandman's groin and Ripped up to his chest Then swung his 'sword' and Cut the sand man's throat...
Why? Why! we cried in mind As the young boy ran away Murderer! we yelled in our hearts
IWe hurt for man We sat stunned at this violence This desecration of a soul.
We couldn't just leave him there Blameless, yet aware So we buried the sand man and prayed Dust to dust, sand to sand
El Niño scooped the sand clearing every scrap of driftwood, every construction playful of a summer’s dayful the slapped-together forts, dinosaurs, castles now launched to Mexico, to Tahiti, who knows? replaced by fresh fragments of forest twisted logs, battered beams shed by Oregon, by Vancouver Island and Alaska bobbed by current to this windswept cove.
Beneath swirls of sunset as Van Gogh might render among scattered scallops, kelp, sandpipers by the hundred, one joyful dog dances the landscape expressing with his grin this vast chaos of delight.
I live back in the hills about 10 miles from this, my favorite beach. First published in *The Avocet*.
had we wrecked am i okay what about him he was there with me we were okay it was all fine then something happened i can't see why can't i see where is he i reached out he hasn't grasp me the sails flowed with calm jerks the wind pulled us along but the wind has stopped the boat does not move the currents have changed *am i dreaming or is that drift wood