Where the Wind Sweeps Down To The Sea

 A skeleton structure, whipped gritty and wind bitten.
I'm running, thudding, water rushing in to rinse the dint.
Salt rush, water brash,
grey sand in horizontal flight.
The gull stalks sand in a parody of tap
orange stick legs and a sudden splash
of White
against that breast of grey,
that soft bubble of pearl,
The biggest sky you ever saw.
I am caught in a shining net strewn,
It pulls me, it draws me, I run
heartlong towards the ribbon of the sun.

Sunrise Over England ►


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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 15th Dec 2009 20:31

What a lovely thing to say Cynthia, thanks. I think I just dream up images and combinations of words though they occur to me at the most inopportune times. I am definitely in need of some techniques though and I don't possess a quality control setting, it feels a bit 'lucky dip' a lot of the time.
Thanks again

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Tue 15th Dec 2009 18:08

If lines like this just drip off your pen, I am so impressed. They are refreshingly different and imaginative. Your mental sea of words from which you select your diction for any given poem must be washing around in your mind, constantly.

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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 15th Dec 2009 10:07

Thanks Ann, a dint is a dent in my local accent, plus it sounds better with rinse.
Just re-read what I've put there and it doesn't make much sense...or does it? Sorry, I'm tired!
Glad you liked it

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Ann Foxglove

Tue 15th Dec 2009 09:04

Love the gull stalking the sand in a parody of tap! And a great first line too. What's a dint? I love the sea in winter too!

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Rachel McGladdery

Tue 15th Dec 2009 08:18

Cheers Winston, it was written about Fleetwood (where I grew up) Whitby in January sounds brill...the sea side in winter is the best....feeling all nostalgic now! :)

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winston plowes

Mon 14th Dec 2009 23:20

Loved this elemental offering Rachel... I love windy stormy costal holidays, going to stay near Whitby in Jan for a weekend and hope there are aspects of this poem of yours in my visit. Keep posting.Win x

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