Soaked linen on pale skin.

I wrote this to music, see if you can hear it. Also, this is my first submission to writerscafe.org, enjoy, Ozz.

See the melancholy beauty, as she steps daintily along the sea wall,
that giant barricade of stone, to hold back the furious waves.

A gentle spray flattens her hair to her face,
pales her skin and limps her clothes,
a lacklustre monochrome, against the greyscale clouds.

And the storm begins.

She turns her water-blue eyes to the sky, unblinking at the rainfall,
her body twists and dances away from a snatching wave.

Feet, pale and nimble, lashed in bloody linen, skip over the barrage,
the winds howls its defeated cry and whips her sodden hair about her face.

She turns to the sky, unflinching as the thunder roars overhead.

A crack of lightning falls in the distant ocean, enraging the seas,
more nimble dances, as more waves attempt to devour her.

The rain drives harder, trying to crack her frail skull.
Dance on,
she does.

A pointed foot, before toe-heel,
a nimble step away from peril.

The sea and sky bawl in unison, a tidal-hand sweeps out to clutch,
the sodden bridal dress, gracefully slips from the oceans grip
as she twirls, soaking, along the fortification.

A step wrong, suddenly.
Sharp rock bites bare skin,
flesh weeps red tears.

A faltering step,
the ocean swells,
a single,
moment.

Her lake-like eyes,
an intake of breath.

A surrender,
a sweeping wave,
a flurry of white,
thrashing,
sinking.

The mark of the ocean,
a temptation taken.

A new nymph joins the sisterhood,
they found her shell, wrecked on the beach,
on a beautifully calm day.
A swirl of white linen in a ruined bridal gown.
The single patch of now lightened red.
She mirrors the sun, in her pale, dead form.

Such a swiftness, cast away.
They found her on the shore,
she swims with the Merfolk.

Reviews

[R. L. Ambar]

Wow, very few poems capture my attention as yours did. There was something almost simular to her and myself, (yes i do like to challenge the waves where i come from, and yes i know it is rather dangerous.) Your poem was peaceful, yet harsh in the same way.

Keep Writing.

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Rocher. xoxo