A Dark Pool (inspired by Laura Knight)

The wind spins around her. The hairs on her arms bristle – the heat of the summer has been lost. Her feet cling to the rocks, hardened and worn after a summer spent scrabbling over rocks, searching for shells and crabs.

This is the first time that she has been alone in a while and she relishes it.

The sea swirls around her and she stares into the dark pool where the water spins, crashing against the rocks, spraying her feet and making her shiver. She watches the water swirl, mesmerized, and then from beneath her dress she takes the letters and tears them into shreds, scattering them onto the waves, watching the ocean swallow them and the pieces disappear, like ash floating on the wind.

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THE WATER

Take me to the water
let me hear the waves crashing
feel the salt on my hair and skin
the sand scrunching beneath my toes.

Take me to the water
let me dive in, glide underneath
the chlorine clings to my skin
long after I’m home.

Take me to the water
let me soak it in
and rest my weary bones
as it heals me once again.

The Wave Breaks

The wave breaks
on the shore
and rolls out as

 

life pauses for a moment
before continuing undisturbed;
the sea the master of its own destiny.

 

The wave breaks,
the world keeps on turning
regardless of the time or place

 

and where you and I are,
without a thought for the absurdity
of this thing we call life.

 

The wave breaks
as the sailor out at sea is rocked to sleep,
lulled into a sense of security.

 

He is alone, far away from anything
that might be called civilisation,
but he is at home.

 

The wave breaks
upon the shore
where I stand

 

feet buried in the sand
listening to the sound of water
rolling back and forth

 

as nature intended,
and I, I finally feel at one,
here on this beach, hundreds of miles away
where I stand alone.

 

Seaweed (Sea Stories)

it moves through the water like a monster

a dark mass under the surface

seen from the shore, an ominous sight

it weaves through the water

clinging to a rock, swaying

as the tide moves it in

and out, away from the shore

until it disappears from sight.

 

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Find out more about Sea Stories here.

Meditation on Water

Today the water is glassy still

the wind dies and builds up

leaving ripples in its wake.

Tide goes in and out.

Sun glimmers on the surface.

Boats pootle along

the car ferry chugs back and forth,

Ferryside lit up by the evening sun

that falls across its window

and there is nothing

but the gentle tap

of water against the harbour wall

and the squawk of a seagull swooping.

 

Wetsuits hanging up in St Ives Hostel, poem about wetsuits and watersports on Sea, Earth, Sky

That Wetsuit Smell

The smell of the wetsuit brings it back –

the cold early mornings,

the sunsets watched from the water

shivering in a carpark as it grew dark

and bundling wet things into plastic bags.

The smell of wetsuit lingers

on my skin longer after it’s peeled away

and all that’s left are aching muscles.

It brings back the memory

of water swirls around my feet

sails raised up into the wind

as we push our boards into the sea.