I catch waves
in-between fingers
hit the ground
like my thoughts
soaking into heated sand
they evaporate
©jmtacken Jan 2014
I haven’t played with forms for a long time ~ thought I would try one now and then.
Shadorma is a Spanish 6-line syllabic poem of 3/5/3/3/7/5 syllable lines respectively.
Photo Credit: kezzi-rose.deviantart.com
For The Magpietales. Pic The Meal Beach, Burra Isles, Shetland by Robin Gosnall
Translucent sun
falls on crests
mirrored
perfection
cascading marshmallows
across parched grains
with thirst
swallow eagerly
I lay with you
watching the mountains
spellbinding
tranquil
glass waters
never brittle
silken alluring
crystalline
our bodies
intertwine alone
this deserted
paradise
we ride the
crest of our own wave
the sun hits your back
tumbling waves
our orchestra
the only
meal I need
is
you
I’m listening to Sarah McLachlan…& I am listening to Angel.
Music…songs & their words…bring out a different me….possibly hard to understand or for me to explain… but shall I say my emotions change, they heighten & I’m empowered to write simply by listening to lyrics…
My writing emerges from within me, sometimes I do not intentionally choose the words, or the scenarios…my words choose me...what ever wishes to materialise from somewhere inside my being…persuades me to write. I may not have a wide vocabulary nor be as eloquent as some other writers…but I am compelled none the less to do so..
Listening to Sarah at this moment in time
I picture rolling green hills & glistening blades of grass brushed by a sun shower, the suns rays reaching out to kiss the world beneath from behind the slow rolling clouds…I picture white crested waves tumbling leisurely to the shore, stretching themselves out to reach the hot sands before rolling back onto themselves…I picture forests tall, as I walk upon crackling Autumn leaves beneath my feet, tall timbers being graced by the light of the sun caressing their canopy…I picture a new born foal unsteadily trying to stand to suckle from his mother…I picture an open fire, staring at the coloured flames, listening to the crackling of the wood as it relinquishes its fight against the fire that embraces it…I picture a new born being placed on her mother & to watch the tears that fall upon the mothers cheek as she gazes with intense love upon her perfect child…I picture rain drops settled against a frosted window pane slowly trickling downwards and breathing warm air upon the glass to draw pictures…I picture my parents tenderly holding hands or exchange a smile… I picture lying on a blanket on a warm summer evening and gazing above at an almost blackened sky that has come alive with stars…I picture my daughters when I sat in a dimly lit room on a rocking chair to feed them in the early hours of quiet still morning..their small hands grasping my fingers… watching their eyelids close from being sated with milk & a sweet sleepy smile..
so many things that music & lyrics bring me..
so I write not for acceptance…
I write because I am compelled to share my inner voice that can only be heard on paper…
no one can stop my love of writing, no one can stop what is so much a part of me..
& if perhaps my writing may touch a life…
with laughter…a smile…or perhaps even a tear..
that is the only recognition I as a writer need…
My body lies upon the sand and the warmth radiates and envelopes my every pore
I inwardly smile at how I feel, my senses are tingling and alive as I listen to the sounds of the waves tumbling
I have waited all year to feel this way
To be by the ocean to hear its sounds, to smell it
Summer
My hands dig into the soft and gritty like crystals and slowly I let each grain pass through my fingers
My eyes closed my breath draws in to absorb the perfume of the water, the smell of the warmest season
My eyes blink open and I stare to the sky above to watch the clouds dance in the wind that carries them
I watch as birds fly overhead and cry out making themselves known
Summer
So perfect the day the quietness, the stillness around me with only the waves and the sounds of feathered creatures
My mind escapes into the paradise, my thoughts tumble, like the waves they ebb and flow
How perfect, how serene at happiness complete
The seasons that make a difference to my feelings my emotions
Summer
I have waited for the warmth to feel the sand, to hear the ocean, to gaze into the water
I have passed through the cold and wintry months, the time of Spring and Autumn, with summer I am alive
This is my place, this is where I belong
I am content at peace
Summer
Why does this have such a hold on me?
Why am I happiest here?
I cannot say, is it because I am a water sign?
Possibly
Summer
Some places make us feel alive more than others
Being near the water is mine
I have tranquility listening to the waves or stepping amongst the rock pools to watch the life below
I simply belong
Summer
Do you have a place where you belong?
Where your senses come alive
Where the sounds of all around you without an orchestra
Fulfils you and takes you to a place you may only have in your dreams…
Summer
Written whilst listening to Phil Collins “Genesis”
Ramblings From A Mum 