Swelling taste of sea salt seeps through cracks in the sky
A forced heavy gray of bay oozing out to welcome me
I return, reluctant and ready to wrestle this small boat
with shattered oars from one shore to the next
A broad brow of bile awaits my stir like shore awaits crusty bits
of gull’s crabby leavings dropped from sick yellow sky
I am led by crooked-finger cormorants gesturing
through yellow soup sky to trip on touchstone rocks
to hurt myself again on rancid butter bay
where I steep myself in yet another sorrow
Author notes
In a list
A contest entry
- PIF Quickie Picture Prompt Judged by RedwingSpirit.
575 points, ended January 3, 2008, 9 entries
Honorable mention
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Great imagery this is very fitting the prompt. I wish you the best of luck in my contest. Please do not reply to this message as I wish you to remain anonymous. Thanks for entering
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