"whelk" poems - Hello Poetry

In the silence and misunderstandings that separate us I need to believe there is a place where we can meet a place of mottled light where the only shadows are painted by ancient firs who conspiratorially lean open, welcoming hands down to greet us. It is a place where all thoughts of judgment and jealousy are simply too petty for consideration love being implicit in the moisture of the air words are unnecessary for our eyes reveal everything we ever want to say. Fear and resentment are unknown here we refuse to recognize them if they slither into this haven while we are sleeping restful, innocent, unworried history does not exist, the moment held is enough. If this vision were dispelled, my soul could not sustain reality’s weight. I would be battered, fragile as a spiraled whelk on deceptively smooth rocks splintered by hate and unwillingness to be as the sea, fluid and graceful, all encompassing. Will you come with me here? Or is the hour too late? We can meet in this hollow sacred space and begin again, let loose misconceptions clouding the life we share. The path is faint trust your weary heart it will lead us to each other.

0

Nov 11, 2015

Nov 11, 2015 at 9:08 AM UTC

denel-kessler

Sacred Space

In the silence and misunderstandings that separate us I need to believe there is a place where we can meet a place of mottled light where the only shadows are painted by ancient firs who conspiratorially lean open, welcoming hands down to greet us. It is a place where all thoughts of judgment and jealousy are simply too petty for consideration love being implicit in the moisture of the air words are unnecessary for our eyes reveal everything we ever want to say. Fear and resentment are unknown here we refuse to recognize them if they slither into this haven while we are sleeping restful, innocent, unworried history does not exist, the moment held is enough. If this vision were dispelled, my soul could not sustain reality’s weight. I would be battered, fragile as a spiraled whelk on deceptively smooth rocks splintered by hate and unwillingness to be as the sea, fluid and graceful, all encompassing. Will you come with me here? Or is the hour too late? We can meet in this hollow sacred space and begin again, let loose misconceptions clouding the life we share. The path is faint trust your weary heart it will lead us to each other.

28

I've been told that change is good; It keeps you on your toes So I guess I will try to write a poem about something else ............................................................about someone....else Until next time, Mine truly

0

Jan 4, 2012

Jan 4, 2012 at 11:45 PM UTC

peyton-leigh-stille

"Marge Is Ill; Ate a Funny Whelk."- Vernon Dursley

I've been told that change is good; It keeps you on your toes So I guess I will try to write a poem about something else ............................................................about someone....else Until next time, Mine truly

6

I speak to you in rare moments of sleep As shipping news speaks of conquered waves You wear the look of women in coastal cafes Who have read between the fishing headlines And cast away puzzle pages Tea-ring-stained For weeks Yet swear daily they do not weep I speak to you in those rare moments of sleep As ships speak in song to lighthouse light Yet I know that when awake Should in time come the chance To really speak My words may not rise From any squall-safe Harboured-heart place But undelivered with the dead litter of shore Cling as whelk would To the frame of some drift door I can neither close Or in clinging Allow tides To erase

0

Jan 4, 2013

Jan 4, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC

john-george-graham

Asleep, I Drift Upon A Notion

I speak to you in rare moments of sleep As shipping news speaks of conquered waves You wear the look of women in coastal cafes Who have read between the fishing headlines And cast away puzzle pages Tea-ring-stained For weeks Yet swear daily they do not weep I speak to you in those rare moments of sleep As ships speak in song to lighthouse light Yet I know that when awake Should in time come the chance To really speak My words may not rise From any squall-safe Harboured-heart place But undelivered with the dead litter of shore Cling as whelk would To the frame of some drift door I can neither close Or in clinging Allow tides To erase

23

down bilsdean creek where fresh and salt water meet the bladderwrack rehydrating incoming tide chases tiny trout upstream to the overhanging hazel branch sanctuary of dappled dancing sunlight where they flit back and forth under the ever watchful kingfisher shimmering blue glints of nervous anticipation by whelk denuded tidal pools, Freddy the refugee with his rusty bike, tin can kettle and bent safety pin waits patiently for his stream water to boil a hip flask of vinegar and folded envelope of pepper are produced with theatrical flourish from a tattered baling twine belted overcoat and placed on the rock from Fife the haunting groans of the fog horns echo around the mist cloaked cliffs where Glasgow boys once set up their easels and squeezed red ochre onto pallettes of roof slate to sing praises to nature the water boils in the smoke blackened tin can the mussels open in surrender among the whelks the tide inches forward grinding empty shells to sand

0

Jun 6, 2019

Jun 6, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC

johnny-solstice

Bilsdean Creek 1960

down bilsdean creek where fresh and salt water meet the bladderwrack rehydrating incoming tide chases tiny trout upstream to the overhanging hazel branch sanctuary of dappled dancing sunlight where they flit back and forth under the ever watchful kingfisher shimmering blue glints of nervous anticipation by whelk denuded tidal pools, Freddy the refugee with his rusty bike, tin can kettle and bent safety pin waits patiently for his stream water to boil a hip flask of vinegar and folded envelope of pepper are produced with theatrical flourish from a tattered baling twine belted overcoat and placed on the rock from Fife the haunting groans of the fog horns echo around the mist cloaked cliffs where Glasgow boys once set up their easels and squeezed red ochre onto pallettes of roof slate to sing praises to nature the water boils in the smoke blackened tin can the mussels open in surrender among the whelks the tide inches forward grinding empty shells to sand

19

never could be a bedouin all mucked in forever oathing me of oblivion ever the mental moss of bedlam of miscarried emissions and planetary visions all tucked in and lucky dip dreaming stationary like a calcified grip inward burning whelk buckled

0

Mar 26, 2025

Mar 26, 2025 at 9:26 AM UTC

neth-jones

tuckled

never could be a bedouin all mucked in forever oathing me of oblivion ever the mental moss of bedlam of miscarried emissions and planetary visions all tucked in and lucky dip dreaming stationary like a calcified grip inward burning whelk buckled

12

Malicious hearts will hurt the empath As summer hurts the winter shore Eroding buffers until burnout Kind retreat, the only cure -- End-of-summer beach Seabirds’ shaky screech Grey gulls too full to cry Bin chooks too fat to fly Sorry shoreline Systems offline Foot pounded Rebounded Flattened… Shrub ripped Wing clipped Sand-sucked Grass plucked Party bruised Cocktail-cruised Cans on conches Fish unconscious Foam and flotsam Wave-blind coxon Soda can crab shacks Neon pink algae tracks Whelk shell graveyard Absent lifeguard **** platoons Naked dunes Cheapened Weakened Exposed… Tidal hangover Coastal leftover Erosion potluck Sitting sea-duck Strong incoming storm surge Winter solstice land purge Quick and shifty beach thieves Cyclone tempest mouth-breathes Recalcitrant brackish aggressor Intransigent briny transgressor Suspensions of sediments modified Walling and breakwaters compromised Over, back, and whitewash makers Bubble, rubble, boil and breakers Weathered, not weathering Tempered, not tempering More block than gavel More grave than gravel All prisoner no guard Grain short of a shard Receding sand-line drift Intensive shoreface-lift Patient unresponsive Highly hypertensive Code cerulean blue… Plant encouragement Shoreline nourishment Sand transplant Grass implant Healing hiatus to homeostasis Swell subsiding King Tide presiding Prince Neap succeeds Warm court accedes Managed realignment Sanctuary assignment Steadfast protections Timid reconnections Gentle, careful, soft, and slow… A new beach visitor dips their toe

0

Oct 21, 2024

Oct 21, 2024 at 4:23 AM UTC

jill_1

I prefer the beach in springtime

Malicious hearts will hurt the empath As summer hurts the winter shore Eroding buffers until burnout Kind retreat, the only cure -- End-of-summer beach Seabirds’ shaky screech Grey gulls too full to cry Bin chooks too fat to fly Sorry shoreline Systems offline Foot pounded Rebounded Flattened… Shrub ripped Wing clipped Sand-sucked Grass plucked Party bruised Cocktail-cruised Cans on conches Fish unconscious Foam and flotsam Wave-blind coxon Soda can crab shacks Neon pink algae tracks Whelk shell graveyard Absent lifeguard **** platoons Naked dunes Cheapened Weakened Exposed… Tidal hangover Coastal leftover Erosion potluck Sitting sea-duck Strong incoming storm surge Winter solstice land purge Quick and shifty beach thieves Cyclone tempest mouth-breathes Recalcitrant brackish aggressor Intransigent briny transgressor Suspensions of sediments modified Walling and breakwaters compromised Over, back, and whitewash makers Bubble, rubble, boil and breakers Weathered, not weathering Tempered, not tempering More block than gavel More grave than gravel All prisoner no guard Grain short of a shard Receding sand-line drift Intensive shoreface-lift Patient unresponsive Highly hypertensive Code cerulean blue… Plant encouragement Shoreline nourishment Sand transplant Grass implant Healing hiatus to homeostasis Swell subsiding King Tide presiding Prince Neap succeeds Warm court accedes Managed realignment Sanctuary assignment Steadfast protections Timid reconnections Gentle, careful, soft, and slow… A new beach visitor dips their toe

76