Through delicately latticed branches the morning sun is rising,
gently lifting the nights residue fog.
The harbour where peeling boats used to lean
is filled full with a sparkling blue.
A portrait uninterrupted, a fresco renewed with fresh breeze.
Through easy skies a playful bird dances a rhythm all to himself;
such a care-free fellow, no need for human quarrels.
On the pier an old bench, boastful to no man, smiles
and declares to the world that it is still standing!
Patiently it waits for accepting occupant.
Quietly acknowledging anyone that will sit to keep company or pass time,
the old bench watches the waves, so full of life, so adventurous.
Longing to bathe in the shimmering surf but forced into voyeuristic jealousy,
the manifesting clouds of violent hurricanes appear on the horizon.
A reverenced silence sweeps into the harbour, a moment of calm.
Water once silent erupt toward scornful skies,
lost from their innocence to dark figures, flashing smiles of false pretense.
Through the maelstrom, with purpose lost and a growing insignificance,
weary woods discover a fresh sense of revitalization.
‘Harness the wrath of Neptune; offer it in triumph to Apollo. ‘
Shards of frigid waters spew forth, drawing from every form
to pool a complex reservoir, deep and expansive.
They stalk such moments wherein slanted light can evaporate
true meanings and hold them as a cloud; grey and troublesome.
And as the bashful sun shines its brightest,
metaphors pour heavy before the masses.
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2 Comments
Hmmm…. my IMPRESSION is that poem went on “tilt” halfway through… (A reference to pinball machines… out-of-order) I’ve read this a few times now– I think you might have done it on purpose. If you did then it almost went over my head (because I’m a dolt?) or I’ve just misunderstand your poem completely. Either way, the personification of inanimate objects in this is great!
View from the POV of the Old Bench: The metaphors used are orderly and structurally sound. Yet the bench envies and longs for the turbulence and disorder of the sea.
View from the POV of The Sea: It’s a cruel sea. Contradictory metaphors abound (Shards of water? A bashful sun shines it’s brightest?) Yet the “orderly” wooden bench is revitalized by this maelstrom of chaos, as slanted light evaporates true meaning into clouds of uncertainty.
You end with “Metaphors pour heavily before the masses” …but not pouring ON the masses, pouring in front of them to pick and choose from.
I’m thinking you wrote this as “social commentary,” but that’s only a guess on my part. I’m trying to reconcile your ending with the rest of the poem. I gotta’ reiterate, that despite whatever I say here, the personification and the overall writing is pretty damned good!
JPD (he’s been wrong so many times before that it’s becoming a habit)
Hey, thanks for reading and replying!
Yeah the poem is meant to ‘turn’ half way through.
The poem itself, in my mind anyway, is a metaphor for the creative process, or at least mine anyway. How I write and when I write. Although, there was a bit of a social commentary in there, as you picked up on, but I think primarily it’s a metaphor for my writing process.
And yes, the last line was meant to be a bit uneasy and you have it right on with your interrpretation of it there “to pick and choose from”.
Thanks for reading.
-Ross