my feet
are bleeding. I can feel it,
warm trickles running between my toes;
it is fascinating. there are barnacles
on these rocks, crushed mussel-shells
and the remnants of volcanoes
ground to glass.
If I let go, the wind would bear me
away: it is tugging at my clothing, my hair,
I can feel its fingers across my skin.
I would not need to return.
The sea would swallow me;
between the winds and the waves
I could be lost
for centuries, tumbling like a seed pod
or an albatross. Would sailors watch me pass
on storm-tossed seas, would they catch my flight
in the corner of their eyes
and tap their false saviour’s cross across their brows?
It will not help.
There are things moving on the oceans
more potent than He, by far.
Author notes
A contest entry
- the catharsis rounds; round one. [photos.] by aanika.
3588 points, ended March 19, 30 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Emotion: 15/20
Spelling and Grammar: 10/10
Effectiveness of Title, Beginning and Ending: 9/10
Personal Opinion: 8/10
Creativity/Originality: 8/10
Relevance to Picture/Rules: 10/10
Imagery/Metaphor/Poetic Devices: 8/10
Structure: 5/5
Diction: 5/5
Line-breaking/Flow: 4/5
Impact: 4/5
total: 86/100
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