Poetry 'n Prose

Out To Sea

for the man in the sand

Long after you have gone, the seagulls
Are upwardly mobile in my mind’s eye,
Calling in the singular language of their trade.
Their shape eyes interrogate the home brew
And pewter of an English sea. Way below
The fretful summer traffic works itself up
Like a red-faced, angry baby on the pier front.

And the hole, from where you came,
Is now gone, washed out, you rest there
No more intricate and empty, rolling
Water jostles in the light as if it’s a dance.
Far off a trawler fathoms out fish, it’s nets
Work up a thirst for other seas beyond
But the sea is like; too big to take in,
And not quiet infinite enough.

By 67paintings

A dialectical site of poetry, painting and the odd musical excursion into the unknown.

9 replies on “Out To Sea”

… and such is the power of Time – healing with its unseen moments in the sun…. I can smell the spring in your words. Hope you are well…

Thank you so much. There are times that I don’t recognise the boundaries of time and space. In dreams, in poetry (and sculpture), there’s a need to reveal something more than the limitations of life, beyond oneself. The sea, the whirling stars above, keeps me dreaming…

I’ve come to understand how important poetry is, partly because I’ve attempted to stop writing, but I know now it’s a lifeline – this shared space. So I don’t know what I’d do if I stopped. Take up archery? Or afternoon naps?

Each day is another day from the first step we take and the sun is in the sky and the tide will come and go and the flowers will bloom and lambs will be born and nightingales will sing for a mate.
The cycle of the days and seasons and life itself is incredible and grounding and wonderful.

I recall camping recently in an apple orchard somewhere in Suffolk. I hadn’t slept at all, but the first thing I heard before sunrise was a nightingale breaking into song. It was the most glorious song, and was immediately captive to the dawning of a new day. At this point I quietly climbed out of the tent and stood close by the tree, his home, and lavished the moment. It felt like Blake’s ‘eternity in an hour’…

But those moments pass and waves of mundane urgency swallow us again. Tumbling
through the chaos of our day-to-days, we wonder if Blake’s vision of a broader, more expansive experience is nothing more than a poet’s fancy. Can we really see the Universe in a grain of sand as we slog through traffic? Can we really hold infinity in our hands as we engage in meditative practice?

The answer, I feel, is yes. Listening and observing the moments like the nightingale’s song builds a deeper connection between the everyday reality we experience and boundless landscapes of cosmic beauty, inspiration and joy. This experience is actually so close, so present for us, if we begin with a grain of sand.

I don’t think it is poetic fancy. I think it is very real, but we have to want that peace and beauty and we have to seek it out from within and without….

And may the grains of sand create a desert and a forest and an ocean… Have a great weekend Lee.

Beautifully expressed, I was thinking about this in your most recent post ‘washed up’, how things that matter become clearer when nature restoring our senses, how the elements restores the equilibrium between body and mind… and yes it is a question of seeking this state of mind, of being mindful.

I couldn’t agree more Lee and as things get busier before my daughter’s big day, Mum is very much in need of snatches of mindful musing.

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