I grew up far from the ocean ... any ocean ... so the one time that I got to walk on a real ocean beach was ... to put it mildly ... a most memorable occasion.
Oh, I had glimpsed the ocean at the movies ... in books or magazines ... but never the real thing.
I think I was most impressed, when a face-to-face meeting finally came, with the immensity of it ... its power ... its beauty ... its music.
I tried to get some of that music in this little poem:
BEACH MUSIC
Waves come tumbling
onto the docile shore,
flinging foamy fingers
across the ochre plane.
Teeming with bubbles,
they search and settle,
soothingly diminuendo,
on a healing chord.
Eliciting a sigh
from pliant, sandy keys,
the fingers slide off
into the lap of the sea,
where joyous whitecaps
merrily urge them,
jostle and encourage them
to play it all again.
© 1998
(originally published in Capper's, now back for an encore appearance with one of my little watercolors)
***
Today's word: joyous
Afterthoughts ... in response to your comments:
Thank you for stopping by, Helen ... twice ... and I do try to paint pictures with words, as well as with a brush. It would appear (blush-blush) that I succeeded this time.
Yes, Magran, I think the ocean is/wouldbe, as you say, an immense source of poetry ... if only I had more access to it. Meanwhile, I still have memories from that first stroll ... of pictures I've seen ... and even early memories of "listening to the ocean's roar" by means of a conch shell held to my young ear.
4 comments:
Another beautiful picture painted without a brush.
Your picture WITH a brush is exciting!
My perception of the ocean is the same. Just think what an immense source of poetry it would have been if only you had more acces to it. Sometimes I long to be on the beach with an ache that is almost painful.
I really like when you share your watercolors :) I like this one, a lot.
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