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Just A Small Story...

skyeriverwinterskyeriverwinter Posts: 1,894
edited August 2009 in Poetry, Prose, Music & Art
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Post edited by Unknown User on

Comments

  • SD533SD533 Posts: 221
    skyeriverwinter wrote:
    Walking the wild path to the ocean, honeysuckle and poison ivy form an arbor to walk beneath. The ambrosial scent of the honeysuckle thrills the senses. You can hear the ocean's howl before you lay eyes on her/him.

    Walking out on this scene...the ocean clamoring to maintain hold on it's love, the shore. A futile, ancient quest...one that touches the soul. The gibbous moon hangs low and heavy above the roiling ocean as if to try and calm it's pain. The wind sings and rocks slowly with the ocean.

    I run to the surf to console my friend...dive into the waves. Break on me...cry on me...I am here. Wash away...wash away...You are so alive...so wild, strong. I am small, inconsequential...how can I help? I set my mind adrift...It floats away on the ocean...to a distant friend. Help...please help...to ease this pain...

    This is good. This reminds me of walking along Lake Michigan on the Chicago lakefront path on dark, cloudy windy days when the gale out of the north and east tosses and throws small waves of wind whipped rolling crashes of water onto the walkway. I'm usually the only person or one of the very few people out there on days like that and it feels like the lake is a living, breathing thing that has been waiting for me. (Sometimes we trade our oceans in for lakes.)
  • skyeriverwinterskyeriverwinter Posts: 1,894
    edited September 2009
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    Post edited by skyeriverwinter on
  • mrveddersonmrvedderson Posts: 784
    reminds me of when i lived in SPI, Texas. i would have to walk through the plants and flowers and dunes to be able to get to the gulf, when i would get there in the morning, the waves had washed in all the dead seaweed and man o' war.
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