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Written by Sheryl Joy P. Olano
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Tuesday, 15 August 2006 |
Poseidon is calling me...
The sea, once
A horizontal plain
Of calm
Stirs…
Sires swells like
Waking cherubs
As the waves start
Now the wind
Rides on surfs gliding in lapses
With necks like determined swans
In conscientious unison
Smoothly to shore
Only to stumble on sand in a splash,
breaking into pieces as
fallen emissaries
to be parched by the sun
or to be engulfed
by land
still the surfs come
to try over and over again
mere replicas of
their fallen fathers
at times less passionate
sometimes
less gentle
I grant a dip
With my hands
For a caress
When I allow it,
The waves can
Lap on my feet
But then the sea
Would throw angry shards at me
When I refuse to play |
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Last Updated ( Tuesday, 12 September 2006 )
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Poetry Corner 
