Join (Free!) | Login  

     Popular! Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry
   Services MarketPlace (Free to post!)
Where Authors and Readers come together!


Featured Authors:  Richard Orey, iDiana Perkins, iAaron Cole, iJames Kellogg, iGwendolyn Moore, iRoxanne Howe-Murphy, iKalikiano Kalei, i

  Home > Poetry > Poetry
Popular: Books, Stories, Articles, Poetry     

Barbara A Audet

· Become a Fan
· Contact me
· Poetry
· 11 Titles
· 3 Reviews
· Save to My Library
· Share with Friends!
Member Since: Jan, 2008

Barbara A Audet, click here to update your pages on AuthorsDen.

Popular Poetry (Poetry)
  1.  imaginable possibility
  2.  A Woman
  3.  The Fighter
  4.  I Sprung
  5.  fusion of muse
  6.  I'll Be Doing It Until I Die
  7.  Bedlam in Thibodaux
  8.  The Domino Effect
  9.  Shoes
  10.  synchronized
  11.  The Garden of Death
  12.  sky of reason
  13.  ISIS, et al
  14.  Wind
  15.  Fifty Bales of Hay....
  16.  Speachless
  17.  Ahhh . . . Thinking About Things
  18.  My Silence
  19.  A Few Words About You
  20.  Searches of Mine

by Barbara A Audet

Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Not rated by the Author.
Share   Print  Save   Become a Fan

Recent poems by Barbara A Audet
•  Robert's Wrongs
•  Wounded Soldiers
•  Ace Abides
•  Cockatiel Eggs
•  Shelley
           >> View all 11


The day the we of us died,
I discovered looking.
Came to me first.
A foot’s reaction.
Along the water’s fringe,
A saving jolt.
A cut, the second of my day.
Not the deeper of the two.
Reaching down,
I grasped first one, then two
Then three pieces—
Coral, I thought
Wrong, he said, glancing down.
As he gathered his
world into the trunk
Of a waiting car.
He leaned, leaned toward my face.
“Barnacles, dear—they’re worthless.”
He left then. Leaving me
Worthless with my strange catch.
Crusted red, pink-edged
With toothy mouths
Like fences of bishop’s miters.
In my hands, I felt them tremble,
The hold on life,
The hold on breath
between my fingers,
Staggering my palm.
Green slime-scented, still
I carried them into the kitchen.
They were dying. I knew it.
They were out of the sea.
Only worthless because of movement.
A bowl holds the shells,
ready for bleaching.
Soap and sand.
I cradle the barnacles
Under a blasting faucet
and saw fading tenacity,
The giving up of the hold
Of a calcite home.
Into the old copper-bottomed pot
Its handle smeared
With white oil paint,
Water and salt
Boiled over.
In went the barnacles
Tossing right and left,
In the heaving of rebirth.
The smell of their dying
Then the air cleared
The barnacles, just shells,
Free of the need to cling.

Want to review or comment on this poem?
Click here to login!

Need a FREE Reader Membership?
Click here for your Membership!

Authors alphabetically: A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

Featured Authors | New to AuthorsDen? | Add AuthorsDen to your Site
Share AD with your friends | Need Help? | About us

Problem with this page?   Report it to AuthorsDen
© AuthorsDen, Inc. All rights reserved.