A Day at the Beach

The soft grit of sand underneath tired feet
Soon becomes a soft bed
For a bruised, weary back
I lay still with the earth
Cocooned by praying arms
A solid chest
There is nothing I should fear
That can meet me here
The ocean murmurs the kindness
Of Lethe
Healing cannot mend all wounds
Even with Time
The sun kisses across my hips
Idly carried by salty wind
African drums unleash
A tribal rhythm
It sets my blood on fire
Writhing, I reach
The Unnamed place
Here, naked
Before all eyes

Reviews

[Philip Muls]

'A tribal rhythm It sets my blood on fire...Writhing, I reach The Unnamed place'. Very strong imagery, good flow.

'There is nothing I should fear That can meet me here'. You want to ease your own mind, to sooth yourself.

Intriguing. Wants me to read more. Well done.

Could you read mine, I'd appreciate your opinion.

[kmartell]

Healing cannot mend all wounds... a poem that reads as a small story of sorts. On an island I presume, dreaming depths, calling the soul.