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Posts Tagged ‘waves’

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I would be the tide

that moves your sea

as waves of you

go breaking through my soul,

.

and you – the gust of wind

that plays my flute

would hear my drumming

in the ocean’s roll.

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(c) 1995, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post from 2015)

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It rolls in to me

one fresh churned wave

of salt-laden soup

in mussel shell blue

.

with armor of chiton

in sea-weed sway

and twists of driftwood

on layers of foam

.

bringing crab legs and agates

in dustings of gold

that buckle and rattle

kaleidoscope stones

.

and as barnacles yawn

to taste the high tide

it rolls in the next one

for you.

.

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© 1993, 2018 Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-write of “Beach” from 1993)

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IMG_4814

Marina Beach in Edmonds, Washington (on Puget Sound).

 

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      With apologies to Carl Sandburg*

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Love wears no shoes.

It uncoils barefoot

in the sand

and wiggles

like a slinky

between bare souls

playing in the waves

as it arcs

from skin to skin

across the shore.

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(c)  1995, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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*Carl Sandburg wrote a poem with this same title, which has the following line:

“There is a pair of shoes love wears and the coming is a mystery.” 

(I beg to disagree. 🙂 )

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(a re-post, revised)

 

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.

I would be the tide

that moves your sea

as waves of you

go breaking through my soul,

and you – the gust of wind

that plays my flute

would hear my drumming

in the ocean’s roll.

.

(c) 1995, 2018  Betty Hayes Albright

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(a re-post)

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And so I have gone down

to the salty, briny air

where the surf tumbles the sand

and the wind combs through my hair,

where the seagulls dip and squabble

and the pocket pools grow warm

and the starfish nuzzle rocks

as the tide begins to turn,

where the sun lights through each wave

as it surrenders to the sea

and the sky steams into purple

and the night spits stars to me.

.

(c) 1992, 2014 Betty Hayes Albright

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Waves break in silver

like rushes of mercury

glinting on the shore.

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 © 2012  Betty Hayes Albright 

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.

The sea folds back

upon itself

does not permit

the easy love

nor duplications

of a dream,

and she no longer rides

that broken wave –

it is behind her now.

But still she knows

the sacred vessel

of their love

will navigate

the undertow

and when the tide

wraps high again

she’ll be here

watching, waiting,

on the shore.

 .

© 1996, 2016  Betty Hayes Albright 

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To the Sea

(Re-post from last August – formerly titled “Ilwaco, Washington”)

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And so I have gone down

to the salty, briny air

where the surf tumbles the sand

and the wind combs through my hair,

where the seagulls dip and squabble

and the pocket pools grow warm

and the starfish nuzzle rocks

as the tide begins to turn,

where the sun lights through each wave

as it surrenders to the sea

and the sky steams into purple

and the night spits stars to me.

.

(c) 1992, 2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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a re-post from September:

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I would be the tide

that moves your sea

as waves of you

go breaking through my soul,

and you – the gust of wind

that plays my flute

would hear my drumming

in the ocean’s roll.

.

(c) 1995, 2012  Betty Hayes Albright

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Breakers

(from 1983)

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You dash me onto the rocks

with waves of passion

and watch bewildered

when nothing smatters.

 .

You try again

with swells of poetry.

This time I crumble

over the beach

and you etch your name

in the sand.

 .

(c)  1983,  2012 Betty Hayes Albright

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