Folded beneath white caps

shards of crystals stack in layers.

Seaweed tentacles abandon their grip,

letting go of their bed they are

swept away by the tide snared by sea oats

stranded in the dunes.

A shroud of melon melts down the vista.

Seafaring specters bob in the distance

drifting apparitions that vanish

in the  haze,  lost to the horizon.

Seagulls hover between  sea and sky,

wingtips graze the watery glass,

skimming, plunging,  their throaty caws

console the lonely sea.

 

by the shore

 

 

68 thoughts on “Consolation

  1. Using a couple of early PBH sketches in my upcoming Crazy Free to Music art post. I was just getting a feel at the time. No sure if you saw them? You look marvellous!

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  2. That’s it! No more excuses. I’m going to the beach. I do truly miss my connection to the ocean and shore and this poem takes me there and replays a thousand memories back to me.

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          1. And a good life too. I have a few old pictures of me at the beach with sunglasses, zinc oxide on my nose, and sunburned cheeks grinning like a possum eating persimmons. My sister and I look like twin bread sticks. That was the way it was and we liked it that way. 😆

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          2. . The sun was (and is) my kryptonite. I must have a huge umbrella at the beach and a gallon of sunscreen. I can picture out there for hours baking to a toasty tan. Some folks are just plain lucky!

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          3. Oh yes, no sunscreen and a gorgeous deep brown skin tone has changed to annual trips to the doc to get all the barnacles and lichens taken off. I use the 55 SPF now and sun appropriate clothing. Still, those pesky barnacles make me look like a sea turtle 🐢😂. So, gotta get my vitamin D in reasonable doses now.

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      1. It’s probably impossible to unravel. 19th century? Another set of symbols. Rimbaud was only 17. And a genius. He probably wrote that in one shot.
        That poem is “painted” entirely on the wall at the corner of Saint-Sulpice. I may have posted it once. Lemme see if I can find the pic again.
        Tschüss Holly.

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