We slice through the fog with ears as our sight
The paddle breaks the silk for a lovers paradise
There are no horizons...the mist has blocked the sun
Hearts are heard beating as breaths turn to run
Searching for the sound of surf; this travel has been long
Paddling this shoreline...seeking the Sandpiper's song
Sunshine filters in the morn and eyes adjust their sight
The mountains loom, the foliage moves and waterfalls are quiet
Tis heaven for the making, tis every couples dream
Tis wishes proud and honest...all laid out for two friends
The bleached and dried old oaken boards... still sturdy for a form
An Architect, with eyes delight...boarding up a home
A porch for him...a chair for her...a bed makes it complete
When curtains turn this gauzed rustle into their solid sleep
No worries here or noise of hassles...
No urban foils of tossed out oils...polluted air for castles
Manmade hells that speak aloud and never redeem smiles
Constant highways raking land miles to miles to miles
The constant roar is traded now for ease of tangled love
With love and legs and tasseled beds and blue skies up above
Tis heaven for these two who wait and search the shore for hope
Waiting eases tensions when we abide our life's to cope
Eventually we'll get there...paddle for all the worth
Land in hand...then fog will break...we'll find our piece of earth
Very visual and wonderfully written! I loved the picture and the images wrought by this poem. Wonderful! ;) Silver
PS: I adore Ireland. I wrote a tribute to it entitled "My Heart Lies Over The Ocean" that is about Ireland. I look forward to visiting my heart over there again, also. ;)
Beautrful and heartfelt, with the tenderness, following forgiveness of selfs' powerful displace, for when we enter to the place where writes do come and solace our weary thirsty hearts do slake. We reaslize that what we are isn't as important as what we will and can be And tho, we sometimes dare to think we know what we know, His loving hand leads to that place, where all can be let go.-----Art
Eventually we'll get there...paddle for all the worth
Land in hand...then fog will break...we'll find our piece of earth
I hope many get there, Susan; quite a poem, and quite a picture.
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on April 23, 2006
And when they find that "piece of earth," the journey will be well spent and exhaustive, as well it should be. To get away. To commune with things other than our modern age is an oft refrain. Modern age. Suspect, at best. Still, what to do? Give up our modern-day conviences of which we disdain, but which we can't seem to live without. You poem is the cry in the wilderness of poets who want to reclaim primitive life before unnatural pollution and the dangerous surge in the world's population. Arguably a pious and worthwhile endeabvor, if impractical. Still, these two lovers within the structure of your poem have the right idea, get back to nature before even that is swept away in man's continued quest for more ways to make us feel good and happy, even as they confine us to our own self-isolated prisons of metal and pavement and high (if foolish) ideas.
This sounds like a taste of Paradise.....
As Del Shannon used to sing " Keep on Searching "
Fabolous graphic underscores your pen !
Love and Peace
Peter
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Love,
Eileen
PS: I adore Ireland. I wrote a tribute to it entitled "My Heart Lies Over The Ocean" that is about Ireland. I look forward to visiting my heart over there again, also. ;)
Love Tinka
Wonderful write indeed, Susan!
Sandie May Angel a.k.a. Sandie Angel :o)
Land in hand...then fog will break...we'll find our piece of earth
I hope many get there, Susan; quite a poem, and quite a picture.
As Del Shannon used to sing " Keep on Searching "
Fabolous graphic underscores your pen !
Love and Peace
Peter