The sea holds no prejudices,
no cares for day or night, no
particular preference has she
when swallowing up the sons
of the sail.
Perhaps, though, she is still a
kinder mistress, though her reprieves
be few and her corpses more pallid,
more swiftly emaciated—at least
a man knows his fate; he sees it
each night in the moonlit endlessness
and tastes it in every salty sting on his
lips.
Not so, not so, not so for the man whose
feet never quit the land: how will his death
come?
Surely, betrayed; by love, false fealty, faltering
or misplaced ambitions, or worst: at his own hand—
in final, blind despair.
The land certainly is wicked or at least so tainted
by her frequenters. Man's final bed is always cold,
but none so soft as the welcome depths of the sea.
Methinks thou dost protest too much...
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cameron
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Bring me my 12 bore, Jeeves!
No, this is not the worst. A wee bit quaint and rather too many 'not so' s.
I thought you could have made more of the land - sea contrast. Reminds me a bit of that Seamus Heaney poem, which I can't remember the name of. I'll check when I get home.
C
No, this is not the worst. A wee bit quaint and rather too many 'not so' s.
I thought you could have made more of the land - sea contrast. Reminds me a bit of that Seamus Heaney poem, which I can't remember the name of. I'll check when I get home.
C
This poem is the first poem I looked at upon joining this site, and I was amazed by the sheer quality of it. I write my own poems from time to time although they are clearly never likely to reach the standard that this website seems to contain.
I feel I should make at least one real comment about what I enjoyed about this poem now, since a lot of this has been about me. One particular thing that draws me to this poem is the use of personification when discribing the sea.
Well, this wasn't a very productive ramble because frankly I'm exhausted and I have writers block alately, which leads me on to ask you what inspires you to write poems like this one? I could spend hours working on on of mine and not come up with anything even half as good. any advice you can give me?[/i]
I feel I should make at least one real comment about what I enjoyed about this poem now, since a lot of this has been about me. One particular thing that draws me to this poem is the use of personification when discribing the sea.
Well, this wasn't a very productive ramble because frankly I'm exhausted and I have writers block alately, which leads me on to ask you what inspires you to write poems like this one? I could spend hours working on on of mine and not come up with anything even half as good. any advice you can give me?[/i]
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Bombadil
- Perspicacious Poster
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- Location: The hills are my home, the mountains where I roam.
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I'll be as balls to the wall honest as I can be here and damn the consequences...I thought the poem was shit when I wrote it. It's good to get positive feedback on something you esteem very little, though. I'm very glad you like it, perhaps after working with it a touch more, I will as well.
As to my inspiration, eh, I focus on words, I play with them all the time in my head. When I find a phrase I like, usually by chance, I tie it to an experience or idea that it best matches. Sometimes it works. Oh, that and unrequited love (trite, I know, but the duty of even the amateur poet to mention, if just in passing).
Thanks.
Keith
As to my inspiration, eh, I focus on words, I play with them all the time in my head. When I find a phrase I like, usually by chance, I tie it to an experience or idea that it best matches. Sometimes it works. Oh, that and unrequited love (trite, I know, but the duty of even the amateur poet to mention, if just in passing).
Thanks.
Keith