It’s eight o’clock.
The last freighter heavily frolics through the camouflaged liquid
much, like I imagine
a determined obese water bug would.
Angry waves stir around the rusted bow
the waves which escape the scraffle slowly race their way to shore
but seem to never anticipate reaching it
Overwhelmed
they topple over each other then
!explode
as they stumble upon
the pile of rocks
which makes up the coastline
Then suddenly a wretched squawk!
A high pitched argument arises
between two mischievous seagulls
over some mush of food
that resembles what could have been an ice cream cone
that a child must have dropped
As they pathetically flap their wings at one another
another, a more ill coloured seagull appears
slyly, he snatches the remains
The other two soon come to realize
that their prize is no longer there
They stare in bewilderment
like a child who just witnessed a rabbit being pulled from a hat
A swarm of giggles.
The sun begins its glorious goodbye
leaving gifts of purple, pink and orange
Patterns of light
sneak though the leaves
and trickle along my skin.
I take off my sandals
lie down
and let the earth’s green blades of silk pacify me
The boats harbor in
respectively taking their places.
They release the stiff-walkers
(those unused to unmoving ground)
The sun waves goodbye
and the last rays dance away with it
One last breeze decides to follow
unsteadily through the trees,
then peacefully alongside me.
Author notes
my real home
Written September 16th, 2005
A contest entry
- Thomas by KevinDunn.
350 points, ended September 17, 2005, 5 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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This is a very wonderful write, it has so much imagery that i can really feel the wind, and see the seagals its an amazing write, i am going to go thru and read more of your writing bc i think you are truely gifted and talented.. wonderful write hun!!
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It was nonethelss a very good poem, fine and delicate, and I enjoyed reading it, so it did not waste my time.
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it doesn't, i didnt even notice the train part until about the 20th time i read the contest, trying desperatly to figure out why you said it doesn't. sry for wasting your time of thomas the train poems. what a great show that was.
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I think this is a very good poem, moving, evocative, with a truely professional mastery of texture of language. But I do not see how it relates to the subject of the contest.
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