Each link in its chain the size of a strong man’s fist;
its iron a taste of fresh blood in my mouth.
The weight of its coursing through cold, wet fingers
is like spilled sacks of precious coin, like the heft
of a soul being tested and, found wanting,
cast overboard.
Invisibly we’re tethered, together but apart,
all that lies above and between forcing each
surface existence to line up head-on,
straight into wind.
ii. Stone
Love bites. The shingle compliant to each
thrust and suck of sea’s constant French kiss,
all feathers here have flown and no scattered
ears of shells exchange their Chinese whispers.
I grind my teeth into silence, choose bones
and then a stone to talk with again.
Rinsing off its salt-dust sleep, its livid eye opens,
bright as a serpent’s, damp and glowing
as the dragon from its fresh-sloughed skin.
Speak, stone, I say; in a world where words
are meaningless and only actions matter,
I’m aching for advice.
Recently visiting Chesil I may have a bit of a clue at understanding your poem.
I had no idea how long nor how wide it is with the sea on either side. Nor its Jurassic history and seafaring past.
Indeed, anchor and listen to eons of wisdom. xxxx
Reviewed by D. Vegas (Reader)
Reviewed on August 8, 2014
Somehow I get lost in between words but, your words
never fall behind and your poetry never drifts, Kate.
Don't know how I missed this poem but I'm so happy to see you drop anchor and write a spell.
The imagery in your poetic verses stirs the embers of my sleepy mind and shows me how poetry is supposed to be written.
You will never lose your touch in displaying your gift for words and how you display them for our benefit from a land that will never cease to bring forth great poets such as your self.
Wish you were with us more often.
Wonderfully worded connections to that which is as real as steal. In a world of make believe it is hard to find anything worth holding fast to these days, and so such poetry as yours stands out. M.True
The symbolism and imagery gives powerful expression to the intended meaning that is shared so well through your verses here, Kate. Thank you for sharing your gift. Love and best wishes to you,
From what I read, it seems to have gone there to contemplate and have thought that perhaps you could get the answers to what is troubling you in the peace of the place.
Anyway, I like well-meaning French kisses and reading your poetry… Welcomed back.
Ahhh . . . The anchor then is the steadying and apparently the one source of calm as it gives respite to a wandering soul.
"Love bites. The shingle compliant to each
thrust and suck of sea’s constant French kiss,
all feathers here have flown and no scattered
ears of shells exchange their Chinese whispers."
You have pinpointed my friend, the shameful conundrum which love concocts upon us, and we are more than willing to accept things we normally would not accept in love's name. This is one of, if not the, best poem I have ever read of yours, Kate.
Within these words there resides the enigmatic presence of paradox and revelation, often its elements of wisdom cast aside by the "drive-by" reader, who being bent on reaching some illusionary destination, forgets that fine writing as this may be all one needs for a day of rewarding breath. Fine, fine.
Under Amber Skies, written by author and poet Jill Eisnaugle, is a wonderful collection of rhyming poetry guaranteed to please every reader. In this, her second book, she writes of new friendships kindled, as well as old friendships solidified. She g
Still Living on my Feet is the follow up to Tichaona Chinyelu’s first book, In the Whirlwind, which was rooted in a sense of hard-hitting revolutionary black love. However, in this sophomore effort, Tichaona brings the revolutionary essence from deep
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I had no idea how long nor how wide it is with the sea on either side. Nor its Jurassic history and seafaring past.
Indeed, anchor and listen to eons of wisdom. xxxx
never fall behind and your poetry never drifts, Kate.
Always,
Deborah
The imagery in your poetic verses stirs the embers of my sleepy mind and shows me how poetry is supposed to be written.
You will never lose your touch in displaying your gift for words and how you display them for our benefit from a land that will never cease to bring forth great poets such as your self.
Wish you were with us more often.
Georgeoxoxox
Regis
"Love bites. The shingle compliant to each
thrust and suck of sea’s constant French kiss,
all feathers here have flown and no scattered
ears of shells exchange their Chinese whispers"
\
Anyway, I like well-meaning French kisses and reading your poetry… Welcomed back.
Ron
"Love bites. The shingle compliant to each
thrust and suck of sea’s constant French kiss,
all feathers here have flown and no scattered
ears of shells exchange their Chinese whispers."
You have pinpointed my friend, the shameful conundrum which love concocts upon us, and we are more than willing to accept things we normally would not accept in love's name. This is one of, if not the, best poem I have ever read of yours, Kate.