by Ed Matlack
Print Save Follow
Recent poems by Ed Matlack
In its clutches...
Well, it's a job...
I know & don't know what is wrong with me...
Losted is my muse...
>> View all 5,727
The placid shorescape is like a shroud covering a corpse.
by Ed Matlack
Night comes; darkness descends.
The placid shorescape
is like a shroud covering a corpse.
Strolling along the obscure beach,
the clear sky and multitudinous stars
awaken in me a certain reverence.
Why? Because they are inaccessible;
always present, yet unreachable.
Nature’s phenomenon brings
a kindred response by me.
A winter storm approaches.
Bright stars are hidden
by an ominous overcast of pitch black clouds.
The dispassionate northern winds
hurl snow in horizontal sheets
and wraps me in its gelid fingers.
A thin blanket of snow covers the beach.
I imagine myself in a barren arctic wasteland,
surrounded by an angry sea.
seem to have an occult relationship
between the ocean and myself.
The ocean acknowledges my presence;
I am not alone.
She nods to me and I to her.
The ocean speaks to me
through the breaking of waves on rocks;
new to me, yet old.
Her thoughts take me by surprise,
not unknown as they reflect my own.
To my conscious self,
overworked and strained,
the ocean is medicinal
and my inner strength is restored.
surrounded by Nature’s eternity and security,
I discover my true inner self.
with the wind and snow massaging my back,
I look beyond the gray, ever-moving sea,
silently questioning my future
as if she were a crystal ball.
The ocean is a great companion,
to walk with and to talk with,
as she doesn’t offer advice
nor does she admonish or belittle me.
Finding solutions to problems—
no more than a short stroll away.
The night shore adds freshness to a stalled life,
cheers the depressed, and sparks youth,
like flames in the smoldering embers
of the lost and forgotten.
The winter shore can do this and more;
if one allows oneself the privilege
to take advantage of its wonders.
Edited by Bobbie Hess