island

Island

I wish to walk the marble of your bones,
to track the snowy footprints of my hope.
I feel exiled, my island, bare and bleak,
rising black, a crag of small rock cliffs.
Too often I look out to sea and watch
the flying fish, expectant and uncaught.
They rise with great abandon as they fly,
in vain attempts to mingle with the sun.
While I, in muddy boots, have smaller tries,
of capturing the rucksack that you float,
easily on your shoulders as you walk,
alone in crevices of stoic night.
I wish to walk the marble of your bones,
but you are fetal in a curl too clear,
to offer up an invite or release.
Your anger edges my hope from the shore.
I shake the moisture when my boots touch sea,
my body exiled, armored in the glow,
of hope that builds a bonfire in the cold.

Reviews

[Shalini Dinesh]

a very beautiful poem, the imagery and the metaphors are awesome... lovely writing!

[miSS LEaf]

i heard the voice of Sylvia Plaths throughout this poem.. (i might be wrong about it);
excellent piece :)

[Terry Collett]

I really like this poem. It touches me. Well penned.

[Cheryl J. Turner]

I can't match the comments of the other reviewers but I do wholeheartedly agree with them. I thought this to be a fabulous piece.

[Poeticpiers]

A solitary sojourn on an island to reagain ones equilibrium
A spiritual retreat from the hurly burly of modern life, enjoyed
this very much.

[Ed Hart]

Spiritually, of course; but you can walk the marble of my bones any time you're in the mood. As for the poem, I'm taking a sabbatical.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This is lingering like a salt wind against the soul. It's very beautiful as well. I am so in love with all things that have to do with the ocean and I love the mental picture of the flying fish here. I remember watching the dolphins play off Ocracoke Island and how I wanted to join them. Thanks for spurring that memory in me. Wonderful write!