Photo by Mariannavisit her blog The momentary cloudiness of a "dirty" mind
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Suggested prompt...
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Climb in a boat, toss the line and push off.
Write of your adventure, or use the images you can imagine in a poem.
Write of fishing, or floating, write of blue seas or dark waters,
be creative as you are inspired.
______________________
~Emptiness Without You~ (Acrostic)
Ecstasy unravels across zephyr strewn twine
mask spectors void of belonging
pallored rivulets garnish nautical brine
tempt waters brisk with longing
inertial lure calls forth two pulses which
negate thru rustic chasms of dirge
euphoria marvels along beckoning lips
seek refuge as desolate hearts converge
sapphirine imbued mist drizzle upon ships
weary from course drawn seasons
into Nirvana's kiss I claim my bliss
trembling my soul beyond reason
harken we stand upon fleeting sand
of which vintage tides rebound
unconditional hands brush eloping strands
tears full of longing abound
yet cerulean eyes cast echoing sighs
our utopia must remain hollow
unjustly seas demand reprieve wherever your spirit follows
~ PuraPoetica
One week after the photo or picture is posted I will pick one offering to put beneath the image. This is a way of celebrating exceptional creativity. Any and all posts are available for your creative mind to make an offering at any time (even ones where a writing has been placed on the front page like this one). If you are new here and want to offer to every image here, feel free. We are writers, WRITE! If this is your exceptional writing posted here on the Front Page Pictures, Poetry & Prose invites you to include the Exceptional Writing Award Button on your blog. Visit the Exceptional Writing Award post for the details and the button to download.
9 comments:
The red boat was the one he wanted. It was smaller, but the red was perfect against the blue harbor water. If that was his boat, he thought, he would push off and start the motor, waving to the light house attendant. He would steer against the tide until the harbor was just a memory, and find some other cove, an island, find something that wasn't there. A girl with hair as yellow as the light house signal stepped past him in to the boat. She didn't seem to notice he was there as she went about removing the tarp and arranging her bags. She has a lot of them, he thought vagely, and doesn't she go to my school?
"Anthony!" She called to him. Yes, he remembered, they'd had a class or two together. "Mind untying that?" She pointed to the rope. He obeniantly unknotted it, and held it in both hands, "Can I come too?" The words slipped out. He didn't even know where she was going or why. She was shading her eyes to look at him. "Good idea." She said after a moment, "It takes me forever to start this thing." She gestured at the engine.
Anthony hopped in, pushed off, started the motor and waved to the light house attendant.
Sea foam ribbons through the blue,
as my legs hang over the side.
Dancing sun spotlights the horizon,
as my eyes squint to nowhere.
Silver dolphins cut through the view,
as my hand moves the paintbrush.
The grandest view does bless our eyes -
Five miles of marsh, its magic still
Enthralls a sea spread ‘neath broad skies
As, with the moon, the bay will fill.
From the deck of our windward house,
Lawn slopes down to a sea of grass;
Home to bird and meadow mouse,
And, in the cuts, a ray or bass.
Two rivers gouge the sodden turf
Dividing town from harbor town
A watery refuge giving berth
To sail boats, their anchors down.
Once cottage camps, now super-sized,
A score of houses dot the shores;
Their builders prove dreams realized,
While herons cry their never-mores.
And at land’s end, a pristine beach
Replete with dunes and changing rooms
Gathers in bathers quick to reach
For cockle shells and sea-weed blooms.
The tides seep in, the tides flow out.
And weather blows, both mild and harsh.
Once skippers, we no longer scout -
Our skiff stays docked beside the marsh.
I tried to write about a boat and all I could think of were icebergs, the Bermuda Triangles, and viking funerals. I kept trying, but, still, all I could focus on was madness induced from drinking saltwater, blood-thirsty pirates, and sea monsters lurking in the mysterious waters of ancient maps. Third times the charm, I thought, and once again let me mind play with the notion of nautical transportation. I couldn't stop myself from plunging headfirst into cliched visions of shipwreck survivors spelling out SOS in desert island sand, of shark fins swiftly slicing the surface of red-purple ocean, of captain's nobly going down with the ship. I told my mother about my negative proclivities when it came to boating. She laughed and reminded me that we had grown up on the coast, that I loved the water. And, that's true, I do love water, pools, the ocean, seas, rivers, etc. But when I think of that water slowly dripping into a leaky submarine that's stuck 20,000 leagues deep, I must admit to myself that swimming is a blast and boating a venture filled with pitfalls I cannot face.
blue sky, blue water, blue
song on the radio soft
wind whisks cares away
The small sailboat we four set out on was new to me.
Every Wednesday night was the sailboat races in the bay. We weren't racing that night, just sailing on the periphery of the race. We passed plates of ripe fruit and glasses of wine.
We were new to each other then, sharing a blanket for warmth in the dusk of the evening. The sky turned the softest shades of blue and pink, that fed into our growing infatuation. Everything was soft and seemed to take my breath away. How perfect the sky, the ocean, the beginnings of our life together.
The deep blue of the ocean called to her. She wanted to dive down through the murky drifts and touch the sand on the ocean floor. The feel of his hand on her waist brought her back. She realized that she was caught on the shore, held prisoner from Need and Want by Love.
~Emptiness Without You~ (Acrostic)
Ecstasy unravels across zephyr strewn twine
mask spectors void of belonging
pallored rivulets garnish nautical brine
tempt waters brisk with longing
inertial lure calls forth two pulses which
negate thru rustic chasms of dirge
euphoria marvels along beckoning lips
seek refuge as desolate hearts converge
sapphirine imbued mist drizzle upon ships
weary from course drawn seasons
into Nirvana's kiss I claim my bliss
trembling my soul beyond reason
harken we stand upon fleeting sand
of which vintage tides rebound
unconditional hands brush eloping strands
tears full of longing abound
yet cerulean eyes cast echoing sighs
our utopia must remain hollow
unjustly seas demand reprieve wherever your spirit follows
Thanks Laura Jayne for accepting my poem! Although I don't have my blog anymore(because of school & work) I still write under the name ::PuraPoetica:: and of course have your blog bookmarked as well. I will continue to contribute whenever I can. Many blessings to you.
S. Anderson
purapoetica@yahoo.com
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