poem: Salinity

Your muscles are laid out,

under my palms

ridges and furrows,

sleek cords and planes

geometry of life, trigonometry of the heart,

tangential to unpsoken currents

 running

like lunar cycles in the tides of veins

so long accustomed to thinking

 there really never was

salt in their liquid, that we almost, but maybe

not quite, even believed it

ourselves.

 

We each give according

to ways of means

of giving and receiving,

 ingrained in us almost

since birth and only then challenged

by so very

few but oh how precious could be those few.

If only...

 we thought to value the taste

of that salt.

 

And I wonder if you know

 how much I long to take

the ocean in my mouth while I glide my knuckles

across your smooth mocha-toned  deltoids,

knowing

that this is the extent of giving

you will accept

from me now,

so I lock into you and remember

the feeling of sunlight on blue salted waters.

 

I talk with my hands

what I cannot tell you with

my mouth-

that if I could, I would:

take all your

pain and dismantle it at once,

 I would ingest

your fears of life and tell you, find passion.

Go

find it somewhere, anywhere.

Take a trip, take

a chance, take a drink,

but please for the sake of

all that is good go out and LIVE-

love the wrong

woman

 or maybe even love the right one

for once.

 

Start something small and precious,

and guard it and

call it your own,

tell everyone else this is yours,

hands off.

Take my ocean and put some in a cup

and

drink it dry, stirred, shaken; does it really matter?

just

take this, what I give, and run away with it.

 Or invite me.

Your veins need salt

like a drowning man needs air. Take

my energy now into your spine.

And please, go visit the 

sea and stare at it

and really just for the first time in

your life 

remember that you too are a child

of the big water.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Mark]

I liked the way you moved, from the first stanza's repeated references to mathematics (the science of delineating or measuring reality) to ACTUAL reality, as a function of the life-giving sea (btw, have you read Ellen Hammond's "The Sea of Life"? No? Do so!) In the math stanza, I believe "chords" would be the better rendering, given the context.
Phrases like "mocha deltoids" are open to misapplication (despite their loveliness), and I thought at first you might be creating a metaphor for the soil and its fruit that you so love, but I decided soon after that you were referencing an unhappy..shall we say, friend?...and counseling him to seek solace through a return to The Source. Wise counsel, lovingly and beautifully given.

[Marie Anzalone]

thnaks, mark... I worked witht he form and wording a little, hope it is an improvement. I will look for Ellen's piece, thanks for the suggestion. Yes, this was written for a friend, for a close friend, describing some thoughts form this week. Yes, indeed, I want this person to get out there and live already, d****t, take a risk. Mocha is the color of his skin, it is a beautiful shade... and also apropos the soil reference... I altered it somewhat to [hopefully?] clarify intent. Yes, the sea, the source of life on this planet... and we are all invited at some point or othe to feel her power coursing in our own veins. For some that salt water runs hot as the tropics, for others it freezes solid. My friend has been swimming in Antarctica far too long.

[Ken Simm.]

Tides, the oceans wishes through the body. Waves of love, of promise and of intention. This is a remarkable write. It covers as an ocean covers, distance, form and a multitude of emotion. I feel one of your best from the pieces that I have read. Complete unto itself it nevertheless shines across vast areas. As I say remarkable.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for your kind and insightful words, Ken. As always your reviews speak of your ability to delve deep into the work, and you have nailed the feeling I was tryign to capture. An ocean of varying and contradictory emotions swirling in the confining space of a confusing friendship. Don;t we all have someone in life whom we wish would just go ahead and free themselves already?

[Nick.B]

A great write indeed, love your imaginary and your style....good job

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you for your words, Nick. I appreciate you taking the time to stop by.

[Tree]

I read this several times, over the past couple of days before laying down this comment. I took your flowing images with me and ruminated on them. You have in more than a few of your poems used your knowledge (which dare I say is, profound) to bring alive these powerful analogies; percolating with vivid metaphors and encased inside logical detailed descriptions. But what really stands out is there is never the loss of soul when you inject the science––––but the contrary, it enlarges it. Splits it open... Salinity, your title. That We are composed of almost the same ratio of salinity as the sea has always been telling to me. My science courses merge with my own spiritual beliefs and it becomes all too clear. The ''Ocean'' is our mother, and we are drawn to her. She has the power to heal She wants to heal. This for me comes alive from the third verse on: The good siren, who calls my name. And in that last stanza the ''energy" created by this poem (the electro/conductivity of Your sea) builds into a crescendo, and gets funneled directly into those last two verses... a sublime piece, Raquelita

[Marie Anzalone]

It is said that the Pacific Ocean holds no memories; people go to her to forget what they do not not want to remember, and she gently erases it. The Atlantic is different... she is the ocean that hold human memory. We go to her to release our memories so that we no longer have to hold them. There is nothing gentle about her cleansing though. I do believe the Atlantic is slightly saltier than blood, the Pacific, slightly less. Two different ways of connecting to our Mother, two different methods of healing. I was having a conversation with another WC writer (VannelaMargame- you should look him up) who has hiked with me, and knows me in person; about my connection to the earth, about how for me, it is more than a love of nature, but rather, reconnecting with my own soul, a necessity. I cannot tell you how many times I have stood at the shores of the raging North Atlantic in a storm wishing I knew how to tap that creative force, only to realize later that I missed a chance to just sit with her lessons and take them into me. This is what I wish my friend, the one I wrote this poem for, could do. Just tap into that vein, because it is there for all of us. There is Healing, there is lLve, there is Passion... we get so accustomed to forcefully or gently rejecting it when it is offered to us, because we forget we are childrren of our Mother, children of our God. We think we do not deserve it when it is held out to us on an outstretched palm. As Marianne Williamson says, we think, "who am I to be talented, to be fabulous?" as if only the ones we admire have anything to offer, and we, just the acolytes. The question becomes then relearning to accpet love in small and large ways. The ocean is good for that. She takes and gives without impunity.

[Mary]

the edit demonstrates ebb and flow, ebb and flow, of the sea, of sensuality. nice work!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Mary... I was trying for soemthing new in form, but I guess settled back into tried and true... sigh... matybe next time. I am glad you thought the form fit the poem.

[Scorpio]

I think it's very beautiful, I see nothing wrong with the stanzas, but then I am certainly not a critic of any means, I just enjoy reading what I think is great, and I think this is great.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for your words, Scorpio. I checked out your work and was very impressed; please expect some reviews soon. I would point out that you read this after I changed the stanza form. Appreciate you stopping by.

[Mary]

Wow, Marie. the saltiness IS the physical, perhaps psychic connection. I love the progression of this poem- mathematics to physiology to passion to our universal connection, and all that it entails, to longing for this realization in another.

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks, Mary... yes, I was going for progression; such is often these days the nature of my thoughts. My charge may be a lost cause, but I have nto given up on him yet. Luckily, he has not given up on me either. I think we are trying to save each others' souls, lol. Thanks for stopping by yesterday- it means a lot every time you do!!!

[Through the Gateway]

Another very well written piece, Marie. An honestly plea, and very well crafted.

My only critique of this one is that your stanzas are cumbersome in form. They are long and broad, which makes them feel more like prose. You might play with the form a bit.

The imagery is wonderful, however, and we can feel your desperate attempt to convey your wishes and desires for your charge to go out and LIVE.

[Marie Anzalone]

Yes.. I played with the form, since I could not get it to do what I wanted... it is now more like my other writings, when I wanted to do something different. May keep working at it, dunno. The message does not change, but looking for a way to deliver it. Ih the recipient read it and was angered, had an "interesting" discussion but all seems well now. Still fighting Life.