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Tide Turn

A full moon, and the tide swollen by rain,
Rain lashing on the window, wild as rage -
My pen is stirring on the unspoilt page
In scribble circles, feeling round this pain.

Like tunnels leading deeper than my mind,
Or ropes in hopeless tangles, loosely curled,
Sprawling intestines looped around the world
My pen describes; this pain is ill-defined.
 
The tide has turned: so smooth the surface sits,
But now the current strongly drags beneath.
A leaf that hovers still, moves like a breath
Blown suddenly. Snatched seaward, twigs and bits.
 
All watery debris rides the sea-sucked road
Leaf mould, and rags of moonlight, glistening threads;
Down beats the rain. My pain flies out in shreds
As ocean swallows back her salty load.
 
This pen slides free, and speaks my troubling thought.
What held me back from spilling out that pain?
Was it the brooding moon, blinded by rain,
Or the flood-tide; my mind a leaf, flood caught?

◄ Trying to sleep, city night

Antique Zealot ►

Comments

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Elaine Booth

Mon 15th Nov 2010 16:18

Very beautiful poem. I read it last week when you posted it but have enjoyed reading it again since then. I appreciate that you share your work here. Thanks.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Wed 10th Nov 2010 19:41

I would like to have your work available by my bedside. Do you have a volume of your verse? Your work breathes beauty of thought, universal experience and the art/craft of impactive poetry.

Question: Does rain really swell a tide?

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Ann Foxglove

Wed 10th Nov 2010 14:01

A beautiful poem Freda. I think the immediacy of the pain described stopped me from commenting on it before. Don't know why that should be. Maybe because I've met you? xx

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Greg Freeman

Mon 8th Nov 2010 22:57

This is a beautiful piece of writing, Freda. I particularly liked "sea-sucked road" and "rags of moonlight". Very appropriate on a leaves-on-the-line night like this

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