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Poetry Magnum Opus

Whitley bay


eclipse
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The moon has left it's balcony
to be replaced by a mermaid watching tides
sculpt cliffs.
 
Visitors to long sands beach are transfigured
briefly, a promontory forms in the mind for
future reflections. The lighthouse is like a pen
lit by light echoing as it warns spirits of new
arrivals, children who see with pearls pf pure
sight. Tide reaches the shore a page is turned
old seaman share story's, a cache of pearls
on a promontory.  
 
Clouds are like postcards that never reach
there destination, the sky listens to conversations
of people on the beach, their lives sawn in half,
the stunning wonder of the bay and the journey home
after having walked across clouds and photographs
of the day. Spirits hear stories of the living linger in
shells, clouds pass over those dreaming about
Whitley bay and the soundless sea.
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"pearls of pure sight"

Lovely.

 

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  • 2 weeks later...
On 3/11/2019 at 4:53 AM, eclipse said:
Clouds are like postcards that never reach
there destination

That's how I feel when I send an email or text. Is anybody even listening?

On 3/11/2019 at 4:53 AM, eclipse said:
… clouds pass over those dreaming about
Whitley bay and the soundless sea.

That would be me. Give me Whitley Bay and a soundless sea.

Tony

Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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The images! wow. Can see it now. Well done!

 

J

thegateless.org Come on over and check out my poetry substack y'all;-) Or if your bored, head to the Zazzle store: https://www.zazzle.com/store/gateless. If you buy anything I lose a bet, so consider that before you violate the digital rules.

 

Gate(less.png

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Lovely.

"Words are not things, and yet they are not non-things either." - Ann Lauterbach

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  • 3 weeks later...
David W. Parsley

Hi Barry,

Remarkably evocative and vivid.  After reading your poem, I feel like I have been to this bay.  Luscious imagery and language place the human condition in the framework of a natural world that listens but does not intervene.  Matthew Arnold's "eternal note of sadness" is an unheard melody in this piece.  And as Keats tells us, "unheard melodies are sweeter."

Very nice!

 - Dave

P.S. Watch for typos, e.g. "story's" instead of the intended "stories".

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