A Gatherer’s Tale

 

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A Gatherer’s Tale

He dropped me off. Left me on a single slice of earth. Drove away in a watery wake. His back spoke a silent goodbye, good luck. I saw no one ahead or behind. Only the Oyster Catcher and the others. I had time. Space in all its facets, wet and dry. Solitude dominated the landscape. The sea, a metronome of well-timed lapping. The wind filled gaps of silence. Held me in his absence. Peace sat on her throne. Ruled the high seas. Reigned over me. While I began my gathering. The shoreline gives more than it takes. And offers more than the tangible. I heard cryptic murmurings to choose this and leave that. Pick this one and pass up that one. My small bag now filled with a story that would be written later. When puzzle piece meets puzzle piece. And the mystery makes more sense.Than not. I rinsed off my treasures with water, not from the raging sea. But from my quietude of fresh desire. To connect the dots of fractured wisdom passed from sea to me. Distanced myself from that slice of where I’d been. And read only what was in front of me. A dot dash dot, Morse code message made from collected things. Every symbol formed a word. Conjoined me to the shore, to tell me more of the world I’d gone in lonely search of knowing. I left parts of the story on the hemline of the world. They would wait for another day. But only if the tide has mercy. And lets them live to tell me more. He picked me up. And let me bring my bag of gathering home. Once heard and told, the stories never let you forget. The lessons they behold.

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Pulling Up To The Fuel Docks

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Welcome to Day 28. I have been absent for quite awhile from this series. Guess I have some explaining to do. Or perhaps the break in my writing, the quiet space which appeared in the midst of this challenge, will be revealed within my words. Over time. As Rest pours into the blank spaces and starts to tell her story.

I missed it here. And I actually did not rest much. In fact things got a little frenzied. But all good.

Thank you for being a part of this journey. To read the series in its entirety, click the page tab at the top of this home page. If you wish to receive posts as they are published, it would be my pleasure to have you choose to subscribe. ( I have extra life preservers on board so there are plenty for everyone to come aboard. )

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I have so many words to spill out onto the page here.

So many, in fact,  I am even considering starting another blog. Which is the height of irony given the fact that I can’t seem to “keep up” with a predictable rhythm, a consistent ebb and flow, a regular output of ink from my little inkwell of poetry and prose.

Rest from art while diving into the the living of life is a bit like a refueling. If I were one of the shrimp boats that are docked down at the end of my street, I would consider my short respite as that. A docking. A refueling. A break from rocking around on the high seas. A necessary time of idle in the port of change.

So thank you for staying. For coming again. For dipping into poetry and prose with me. And for coming here with an air of hope and expectancy that the words will be a human connector. That the art may possibly, on a good day, be worthy of your time. That the shared experiences of living and documenting our living help us all see in new ways. Open the window to wonder. Crack the door open anew to beauty. Shine light on the poetry of our lives.

So as I gather my thoughts and refocus on my craft, I guess this is a thank you for not jumping ship. For staying on board and for hanging around. For enjoying the possibility that poetry has to enrich  each one of our lives. For saying yes to looking at life through the lens of another.

That discovering anew the wonder which hides in the folds of life is often the result of looking through the lens of a fellow artist. Sojourner. Traveler.

And if you are wondering. And in case you’d like to ask. I have decided not to lean into the guilt or shame of a missed goal of writing everyday in October.

Because I have grown to trust the rhythms of wait and rest. Of idyll and slow. Of deep breathing and grace.

And of trust. That the best things often come as a by-product of waiting. That beauty is born in the quiet. And that those who stand with you and by you while you bob and weave, teeter and fall, wax and wane, are those who will see the fruit born from the times of want.

Grateful to have you tagging along. Pulling up my nets for the night. And looking for treasures lodged in the hidden places. The mystery. The discovery. The poetry.

Till tomorrow. A brand new day. Day 29, a day of poetry.

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Joining Laura Boggess for #playdates

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Remaining In The Shallow Water

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Remaining In The Shallow Water

We push off
With both feet
Hot like two fiery embers
Smokin’ hot
From the splintered dock
Equipped wtih
Everything we’d need
Vienna Sausages
Lance Crackers
And Diet Coke
Iced down in the Coleman
Beside the beer
Along with plenty of desire
And hope
That this would be the day
We’d fight
He’d flail
Then lose
And we’d prevail
Conquerors of salty brackish seas
My love
And me
Dreamers
Dreaming of elusive trophies in our nets

And
At the end of day
Fatigued and wearied travelers
We
Arrive home now
All canned potables gone
Under a canopy of every shade of
Pinks and oranges
We’ve nothing
But a panoramic view
Of summer’s 
Sluggish setting sun

But hope 
And 
Yet
Now
We realize
That the one that got away

Would have sunk us
Capsized our little ship
And we
With wild desires and dreams
Seem glutenous
As we Monday morning
Quaterback
A bit

Now that we arrive
Back home
Tie up and wobble weary
Down the sun-bleached dock
We discover
From surveying our
Wet and empty nets

We are happier 
Having bagged
No treasures
Nothing bleeds
From the bent end of
Rod or reel and rusty hook

No noticeable triumph
With scales or gills
No victory
From our time 
Away at sea

Simply, home now
Empty handed

The treasure was
The journey

In our small
Blue-green wooden
Boat
Out on the great big salty
Sea
My man and me
Settling for nothing
Conquerors, we won the battle

We bagged 
Simplicity

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Joining my friends at Tweetspeak Poetry for their poetry prompt: The One That Got Away

Swells

 

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Swells

Flounder-like, belly side down
Arms as elbowed paddles
Ten-toed fin, to guide her stern
She points her freckled nose
As dolphin do
Toward horizon’s
Faint thin line
Goal to nowhere
Far, far, away
As if to aim for nothing,
Or toward everything
Invisible to the eye
Every now and then
Covered by the pulsing salty ebb
Pulsing flow
The water’s wet heartbeat
Slower than her own

This aquatic journey
Finds her rolled, in seconds flat
Into a soggy silk cocoon
Tossed, her torso bent, curved
Into a salty spherical swell

The beginning of the giving in
A bit
And riding
With
And not against

The swells
Of good intent

Eyes now skyward
Focused
Even heavenward
She learns
From wave on wave
Those cotton white
Glistening
Mirrored on the sea
Yet dancing freely
Against the sky
No with

Yes, with
This is how she learned
To
Just
Float

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joining the folks at Tweetspeak for the poetry prompt: swell