Strands of mermaids hair
even the sea is laughing
But its a thought
A while ago i wrote of how
i was filled with words
but something has happened since then
it’s my heart that’s full
(my brain has emptied)
i no longer want to speak
or even write since summer has arrived
Instead I want to leave those jumbled words behind
where wildflowers grow haphazardly in soft purple ditches
where rushes whisper by lonely lakes and white bog cotton shyly dips
her wispy head among rows of darkened turf
and clouds are of importance
where blue shadowed mountains are mysterious and beckoning
where the singing sea is soothing
where i can be silent and wandering
i will go there soon enough
I often go swimming at night when everyone else has gone to bed. The water seems silkier then and if the night is clear it is wondrous to float and look up at the stars.
I sometimes get the feeling though, that the creatures of the sea could easily capture me and take me down into their world.
The world of mermaids and neptune. Here is a poem that came to mind one night when I lay floating among the seaweed fronds and rock pools of the a small bay.
I am much taken by melodramatic medieval ballad type poetry….
Last night I left my lovers bed
And walked sadly home along the shore
But on the way the darkened sea
called out my name
and I instinctively
could not resist his charms,
and stumbling blindly with unshed tears
fell into his silken arms
and was swept away.
and slowly sank into the deep.
My naked limbs with seaweed round entwined
my hair like seaweed floating out behind
captivated by his enchanted snare,
(my bruised and broken heart beyond repair).
And on and on into that deep
where seals and dolphins in their caverns sleep
and mermaids rest their weary heads
and starfish spread their stars
and blue rayed limpets make their beds
and I no longer caring
And in the morning light
along the shore
a lonely fisherman
once more lays out his nets
and picking welks and such
comes upon a naked figure lying there
whose limb-like tail with seaweed was entwined
and skin the color of the sky
and seaweed tangled in her hair.
and kneeling by her side
he gently closed her eyes and covered her with care
and kissed her cold cold lips
and smoothed back her sea washed hair.
The west of ireland is my place of inspiration, Often misty and ethereal, Often wild and stormy, sometimes a sunny paradise with pristine white beaches, which you can often have to yourself. It was walking along one of these beaches admiring my barefeet that I wrote this short piece.
Browned by summer sun,
bare feet walking
on worn out paths of flattened sand,
leading to the waters edge
colored shells on the empty strand.
No other footprints here but mine,
no other eyes to gaze upon them.
freed from winter shoes they dip and skim
the waters edge
and standing straight with arms outstretched
I dive straight in.
An Arts-Filled, Tasty And Sometimes-Loopy Jaunt Through Life
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