Below the restless sea crashed upon the jagged shore. Explosions of salted sea spray rose to meet the frigid air. Plumes of frosted vapor floated upon the midnight wind. Seeming for all the world like hungery phantoms questing for lifes hot blood.
In the distance far upon the horizon the first rays of morning were showing. It starts as a silvered crack in the vault of night. Spreading slowly the buttery gold rays of firey sun appear. In a mere instant the cold barren land of dead vanishes. In it's place a seeming paradise appears.
The sky, once a pool of pitch black is gentlely transformed. Into a sea of pale blues. Suddenly the air is filled with the cries of starving sea birds. Clouds of white crashing wings rise from where they had hidden from the perilous night.
The wind, no longer cold, plays about me. Teasing my hair and cloak. The sun now rides high in the heavens. It's soft caress seems to say the night just passed was only a fitful nightmare.
"I have seen a thousand such nights and days. You'd think
I would grow tired of this play..." As I stand here upon my
rocky perch. "Yet I never do. I've seen a thousand such
and doubtless will see a thousand more. Before my task is
done..."
This piece is what I call an image. To me it's not quite a
poem. Because it's like reading a passage from a book.
Rather than a balance of rhyme and reason. Yet poetry,
true poetry is beyond definition. So to some this is a
poem. I just hope you enjoyed it as much as I do. This
'image' was created January 22,
1998
Email: spellsong@hotmail.com
