Pebbles and seashells
wash up
on my shore—
I gather them,
string them on lines
in colors and patterns
that come to mind,
pin them to the sky
with golden clasps
and make rainbows
when the rain is gone.
© Neetu Malik
last night’s hurricane blew the roof off
pieces of felt lay on the street like bits of rubber tires
She needs to dig deep
to pull the roots
that grow under her feet
to do so requires strength
It must have been
a stormy night
when love flew out the window
of my vacant room
like a feather
from a molting bird.
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She has a witness to protect… And her own heart to defend!
More info →Side by side on the fateful night of the Titanic disaster . . .
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I love beachcombing. Your final stanza shows beautifully the fragile rays of hope you can harness. (It also reminds me of a quotation from Aristotle, who was ‘gathering the meanings of things’.)
Thank you, Katrina. In a way, gathering the meaning of things most of us do, without being aware of it.
Hey Neetu, I grew up less than an hour away from the Grand Strand of the Southeast US (Pawley’s Island & Litchfield Beach) and have so many wonderful memories. One of my favorite memories is searching for sand dollars and shark’s teeth in the surf with my daughter. Thanks for posting.
The memories are precious, Ernest. The sea offers up its secrets to us. The finds are like the memories, a treasure. Thank you for reading and sharing your memory!