Poetry Forum

I was walking along the beach on a Sunday evening
searching for chip-chips’ even though they are never here
my toes sinking in to the damp, cold sand
when I came across a chonch shell.
half buried
your shiny secret smooth and uninhabited
I dreamed of where you have travelled
with pale brown sculped surface
rolling against the grains in the current
yourself a flawless wave
another simuation of a perfect mold
a shape used again and again
I blow in to you
but no sound emerged
I press you to my ear
but I hear nothing
no magic within the pink irridescense
except yourself
please teach me something
please tell me anything about being alive
because I can feel you moving,
your life, invisible blood pulsing
in my hands
but there is no
experience or imagination
I cannot live through you
go where you have been
seen what you have seen
in the silent colour of my eyes
hurling you back into the liquid moon
even though I know this will make no difference
foreseeing tourists who capture you
place you
bleached and dried on a shelf
now whited bone, brittled energy
kowing you will come back
and still wishing you would take me with you
in your hollow womb

copyright (c)moniquejade Aug 2005

to cliche anyone?

Mj,

Love the sentiment, beaches are great inspiration.

Here's the but..... its does seem a little tell as opposed to show, and in that it loses much of it's potential magic, leaves not much to our imaginations.

That said the ending is good.

"bleached and dried on a shelf
now whited bone, brittled energy
knowing you will come back."

cheers
Kris

Thanks Kris for your reply and that you like the ending. I will def think about what you have said.I can already see quite a few changes I would like to make and think about. best wishes mj.