Hestia's Contemplation

The ocean haze
whimpers softly
towards land.

And winds watch them for days,
pounding shore deftly
with consistent, comely
blows. She beholds silver trays
in elaborate arrays,
the liquid slowly
swirling. Outwardly,
the foam laps, plays and sprays
jets of cool sand
upon hot land
so sanguine.
They do bid her
to remember
the watery twin.

Abyssal call
moans answer back
to this scene.

This homeland under fall
reeks of peace and lack
of mythic attack
to anyone at all.
So until this slow crawl
takes under our pack,
dirty and lost, back
to hadal depths, this stall
in moment keen
will ever lean
to nothing.
Washing the throat
and all she wrote
in the tide, trusting...

There sits an ocean,
white and black, empty,
longing for sealing.

Author's Note

An experiment with an odd form I thought up in class the other day. Might explore this further.

Reviews

[ICE]

I like this piece a whole lot. It has a great flow to it.

[Tina Kline]

Very nice. I like the form you use, it gave the poem movement like the ocean waves, at least I thought so. I enjoyed reading this a lot.