July 13, 2004

The Glass Bottle

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.*

Posted by Amanda Cochran at July 13, 2004 1:26 AM

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 AM

I 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 PM

Love 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 PM

We 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
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