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Time weathered it 
Worn by salt and wind 
A testament to man and sea
And the sheer determination to survive.
Boats come in and out with the tides
Waves unrelenting...
Remember your roots
As the sea ravishes over rock.
There are few who stop to care,
But there is stillness to be found here

There is a magic in these misty cliffs
As the water crashes onto rockface
Sending turrets of spray into the air
And spiney fingers cascading down.
A race to reunite.
The ocean  moves...
A lobster *** buoy bobs up and down
The cliff erodes, ever so slowly

Seagulls sit on a cliff edge
perhaps resting, i do not know
A wave passes by
Teetering on the edge of explosion
I do not see it break as it passes out of view.
The surging ocean delights me
Dancing over rock
Having no care for destruction
Safety or form
It moves as it must
As it sees fit
Taking the best and only path.
Accepting its new form
in each moment
Giving life, Taking life
It cares not.
It must only move and this it knows 
You are welcome, but beware
I visited Port Isaac in Cornwall recently and was inspired to put some words down. Its so beautiful and there was a large swell running.
Bethany Jul 2020
clouds chasing the horizon,
as they entrance me to follow,
moving forward into the infinite, azure heavens above.
i then tried reaching for God’s hand,
but the tide washed everything away.
Bethany Jun 2020
Like water I am fluid
taking guidance
from the rain
blending with
the madness
as one movement
we stay sane.
My emotions swim
to deep ends
some days I drown
in shallow waves
suffocated by how lonely
even blue tides don’t
come and stay.
Tryniti May 2020
Turning the tides of war
Hear the kettledrums beating
Won’t take it anymore
And I’m so through with pleading

Tie me up or chase me down
Now I have the will to fight
Standing up, sticking around
Finding my way through the night

Stepping forward I face my foe
A shiver runs down my spine
I need to try, I need to know
I’m willing to take what’s mine

The outcome is uncertain now
And I’m sometimes fighting blind
But I won’t break, nor will I bow
I’ll win the war in my mind
Written on 01.31.2020
lua May 2020
the moon pushes and pulls
with the ocean waves
of ebbing tides
and the swell of seawater
as it flows towards itself in blue and white curls
repetitive
hungry for anything
swallowing and devouring
deep beneath the surface;
a disturbance
yet captivating
tantalising in a way
like hypnosis
a dance which the sun can only dream of watching
as it clings on to the horizon
for a glimpse.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Radiance
by Michael R. Burch

for Dylan Thomas

The poet delves earth’s detritus—hard toil—
for raw-edged nouns, barbed verbs, vowels’ lush bouquet;
each syllable his pen excretes—dense soil,
dark images impacted, rooted clay.

The poet sees the sea but feels its meaning—
the teeming brine, the mirrored oval flame
that leashes and excites its turgid surface ...
then squanders years imagining love’s the same.

Belatedly he turns to what lies broken—
the scarred and furrowed plot he fiercely sifts,
among death’s sicksweet dungs and composts seeking
one element that scorches and uplifts.

Keywords/Tags: poet, words, delving, farming, sea, moon, tides, love, metaphor, earth, roots, plot, radiance, pitchblende, uranium
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Step Into Starlight
by Michael R. Burch

Step into starlight,
lovely and wild,
lonely and longing,
a woman, a child . . .

Throw back drawn curtains,
enter the night,
dream of his kiss
as a comet ignites . . .

Then fall to your knees
in a wind-fumbled cloud
and shudder to hear
oak hocks groaning aloud.

Flee down the dark path
to where the snaking vine bends
and withers and writhes
as winter descends . . .

And learn that each season
ends one vanished day,
that each pregnant moon holds
no spent tides in its sway . . .

For, as suns seek horizons—
boys fall, men decline.
As the grape sags with longing,
remember—the wine!

Originally published by The Lyric. Keywords/Tags: step, starlight, woman, child, childhood, maturation, night, comet, moon, tides, winter, season, grape, longing, wine
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
Fountainhead
by Michael R. Burch

I did not delight in love so much
as in a kiss like linnets’ wings,
the flutterings of a pulse so soft
the heart remembers, as it sings:

to bathe there was its transport, brushed
by marble lips, or porcelain,—
one liquid kiss, one cool outburst
from pale rosettes. What did it mean ...

to float awhirl on minute tides
within the compass of your eyes,
to feel your alabaster bust
grow cold within? Ecstatic sighs

seem hisses now; your eyes, serene,
reflect the sun’s pale tourmaline.

Published by Romantics Quarterly, Poetica Victorian, PW Review, Nutty Stories (South Africa), Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times

Keywords/Tags: Fountain, love, heart, pulse, bathe, kiss, sun, marble, bust, tides, sighs, eyes, sun, tourmaline
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