Just south of Jacksonville off the A1A are beaches, ...beaches
Three urchins escape vehicle before safety instructions
can be doled out
They have towels and boogie boards flying in salty winds
Racing for shell covered shorelines, screaming at pounding
waves
He carries another towel, cooler, a novel and some chips
They have moved just outside the sign that says, “Warning,
you have just passed beyond lifeguard protected areas”
He always lived beyond lifeguard protected areas by
choice himself
He’s paid for it most of his earthbound life
They see it as adventure, he let’s them do it
Between sea’s roars and bubbling foam he hears voices...
Cirrus clouds stretch across Florida skylines
wispy, feathery, a tuft of white hair, sun passing through
like angels hair hung against the wide-open blue
Novel about murder, intrigue, isn’t working
He trudges through sand down to wet shoreline
“Daddy, come in!” shouts hurled above blue noise
He holds his hand up and shakes his head, “No”
Sun glints off siren laden, rolling waves, up to his feet
He sees silver, silver earrings, toe rings
necklaces, rings that clothe long beautiful fingers
Reaching down to hold one piece of jewelry,
Foam crashes, bangles all gone, only shells
He picks one up and turns it over
Inscribed inside, “Goshen, Connecticut”
Another one, “Asheville, North Carolina”
Kids are crashing in on waves as they scream
He picks up another shell, “Colorado, Arizona”
Trying one more time, inscripted shell, “Chicago”
Can’t be, one more, “Corydon, Indiana”
He, shaking in ninety-six degree heat
They always say you can hear oceans in
larger sea shells, let’s try that instead
Finding a coral beauty, lifting it to his ear,
“I kept myself for one man, it was you”
“I never dreamed this is where I would be”
“I knew the first time I saw her, TROUBLE”
“I want you to be what God wants”
He stared at splashing children, water logged
Threw down porcelain shell exposing his life
Fifteen years of tides should have eroded all
Instead it is as if nothing ever changed
“It’s time to go” he yelled above Florida tides
Staring back at rolling waves as he left
He swore he saw something, something
Sirens, Neptune, Poseidon, and Triton
Mythological sea gods all in agreement,
“You let the best get away from you”
Back in the van with sun, wind burns
Kids jamming to their own tunes
He can’t get away, can’t leave ancient memories
Long fingers, jewelry, beautiful brown eyes
Falling for blond falseness, leaving what was true
Waves, shells, clouds, sand, gods all testify,
“You’ve never failed this badly, Mr. Wreckless”
He doesn’t need shells, gods, waves, sand to tell him
He has his pillow at night, lonely darkness
He has guilt, waves from it are hurricane high
Why can he almost not breathe, almost suffocating
After another day is gone, nostalgia at Pelican Beach
Written from Melbourne, Florida July 2009
Dedicated to KDL
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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I love the pictures you painted her, you have such a talent for making people see things through poetry.
Thanks for sharing, keep writing!
x
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Robin, it's great to see you pen something new!
This is very melancholic, reaching deep within. Why is it that we are always looking behind ourselves? Reflecting, contemplating...
the imagery and metaphors in this piece are intricately woven into the mosaic you've created. I love this piece.
Hope all is well in Indiana.
Rory
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brilliant
great storyline and layout,some may complain that it swaps from 2,3,4 line stanzas,but it works perfectly for me....you took me on a journey,a thoroughly enjoyable ride......thanks for that,cheers -
wow, you don't post enough for my greedy liking. this was an incredible adventure, rich with imagery. I don't tell you how much I like your stuff enough. You should totally kick me for that!
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quick note: ear rings should be earrings.
I love the way you wing into surrealistic imagery-- the idea of the shells all being inscribed with different chapters and snapshots of the relationship is beautiful. And the shell speaking to him as he puts it to his ear, lovely!
I guess if you're looking for some constructive criticism: you have some tense-shift issues. You wing briefly into present tense here and there, I don't know if it's to emphasize the tangibility and immediacy of that particular imagery-- but it just sort of makes me stumble and reread. I also wonder if the end isn't a little bit too blunt-- the whole "lonely darkness" and crying into his pillow business doesn't have the same artfulness, and you've abandoned the beautiful extended metaphor that I really see as the centerpiece and focal point of the poem. If it were me, I'd take this emotionally massive moment and articulate it in a more intimate, microcosmic way. Is there any part of this woman who slipped away that can be found in your scrying stones-- the shells?
Thanks for the beautiful read,
Max
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Wow. This was quite some poem that you have going on here.
Sounds pretty deep to me. I don't know what I was expecting when I clicked on it but I did get pretty wrapped up in the story. I guess we all have our own regrets. It does get a little wordy here and there but I never lost interest and I like the part about going past the beach guard sign. That really says something. Lestways, it really struck me. I thought you did a great job of expressing yourself here.
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Wow! You went deep for this one. So much like real life, where past and present collide. Communicates on many levels; of living through a wonderful future memory, of being a parent, a father, a guardian, and yet knowing enough to let those you love and watch over take their own risks, learn their own lessons. The introspection is searing and leaps off the page, the symbolism of the inscribed shells is not lost on me; the way one thing can lead the mind to wander over its past journeys, can make a heart relive it's pain, remember it's travels, savor it's victories and losses. The overriding metaphor of the sea; eternal, seemingly unchanging, yet forever moving sand, reshaping the landscape, eroding and rebuilding all at once. Reading this was at once familiar and strange, like looking in on someone elses mind and recognizing bits and pieces of your own. Thank you friend, for expressing nostalgia, for casting me back upon my own lost shoreline memories, for making me feel sadness, joy, and other things as well.
Steve
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God, help me be the man Robin Candor thinks I am...
This is amazing. You did the best you could, with the information, advise and energy you had at the time... Realize that all things. All things! are used to shape you into the image you are destined to be...
Bee kind to yourself... Forgiveness begins at home. At the heart. -
Great
A very good poem. -
good
a nice poem -
I Love your work!
You always have such marvelous writing. I am so jealous. (in the most friendly way possible of course)
I thought it was very moving, and quite a solved mystery if you see what I am saying...
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