The mighty ocean waves roll toward the beach than pull back
As if she’s changing her mind. She goes out again, her white
foam rising against a clear blue sky. A fine mist sweeps over the
craggy rocks, the oceans roars once more.
In the distance, a surfer plays with the water and is trying to win,
But he is a pawn in a larger game, the emerald ocean just laughs at him.
His board crashes, he is underneath the waves, but he is persistent,
And will try and try again.
Sometimes she is a docile thing, with her waves lapping gently on the sandy beach. Other times, not so much, for her temper is a mighty one. Like an unruly child, a tantrum she has, throwing everything out of her way, she’ll knock everything down, wiping out what is in her path.
Partners now with an unyielding wind; joining the ocean in all
its wrath. They wreak havoc on an unknowing town, spewing their venom all around. And in the wake of the morn, people will cry at what is gone.
The ocean is a fickle thing, walking peacefully along the sandy beach,
How can it give so much joy, then show its other side, with so much hate.
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Thanks very much for your recent review . . .
And another finely written poetic treasure - well done!!
Best wishes,
Lance
Peace be with you.
Giovanni
You write beautiful mood pieces.
Hank Lefevre
author of "A Spoonful of Humor"
I guess we both see different version of the waves and the ocean. I remember I when I first begin writing poetry, I wrote a poem about a tiny drop of water, how it went through life becoming larger and larger each time, and finally joining the ocean where it cradles all ships, fish, and all kinds of sea animals that it gives to survive. Then when the sun comes smiling down at the ocean, droplet of water begins to rise to the sky, and hence begins its journey again to become larger and larger. It is a way to life.
Guess we see the ocean and the waves at a different angle.
Sandie Angel :o)
Be always safe,
Karen
John
Regis
Like most women, you called it, She's fickle...ed