One round lip
and a rounded bottom,
Something more lies within.
Cast aside,
Almost cracking on impact.
She waits
Angled haphazardly on a stone.
She will not be undone,
Without the desperate pull of a lonely one.
Inside, Something
Unknown even to her,
Lies waiting for discovery.
Alone--a long tract for recovery.
Taken again in angry waves,
Shards sparkle in the shallows,
She cannot contain it longer.
The white unfurls,
Her inky secrets twirl.
Dancing in a fancy script.
Without even a pull!
Her dire debt paid in full.
*A quick try at poetry. Inspired by my Grandma Ulery's seascape painting that is hung above my computer desk.*
Great personalization of an inanimate object. I enjoyed this.
Picky: proper grammar would be "unknown even to her", not "to she."
But "to she / Who lies waiting..." would be OK.
Posted by: Dennis G. Jerz at July 13, 2004 3:04 AMI had it both ways and then I couldn't make up my mind. Thanks. I will make the change.
Posted by: Amanda at July 13, 2004 1:48 PMLove it, dear. Good use of rhyme--the scheme surprised me, and I was ready for a wave to crash into me by the end :^)
Posted by: Karissa at July 13, 2004 8:59 PMWe really need to take you to the beach.
I love the feeling you get in bed at night after you have played in the waves all day. You can still feel them crashing; they become part of you.
Posted by: Amanda at July 27, 2004 6:22 PM