The Dawning Shore

I wrote this with a bad case of writer's block. I was frustrated that I couldn't seem to conjure anything from a blank page and a blank mind. This was my attempt to craft something out of the fog.

This beach below a starless sky

Is ill designed for what I've planned:

To build a castle out of sand.

 

Instead, there's pebbles rattling dry,

Cascading from the forms I try

To levelled and dishevelled land-

 

Stone making stone of those who play,

No trench nor tower, powerless,

A monochrome and flowerless.

 

Salt spraying over gravestone grey

Where subtle subterfuge delays

A frozen dawn that's hourless.

 

My fist grabs through the misted white

Adrift above the shifting shore

To claim the same as fell before-

 

A bay beneath the winter's light

That's stubborn, struggle as I might,

To become none of what I saw.

 

My skin's forgetting what it does,

It's fading while I stare and I'm

Unable to upset the air.

 

All shall return to what it was

And time is trickery because

It wasn't ever never there.

Reviews

[Robert Haigh]

An interesting and well-crafted poem. One good thing about writer's block is that it always provides us with a subject to write about!