Hello and welcome, my digital friends!
For those of you who write, how often does your narrative begin in the middle of the story, then later form a beginning and end around it?
It’s strange. Isn’t it?
This poem began exactly that way. I was having fun with sounds in some standalone phrases: rhyming wordplay, alliteration, euphony, etc.
“…brawny acts of briny buoyancy…” being an example 👍🏻
As the poem came to life, it developed its own acute awareness of place/setting. For it to work best, it necessarily had to be set on the sea at sunset.
That then allowed for this type of soliloquy to evolve. And the challenging emotional center of the piece.
I thought for some of you avid readers who do not write a lot, it might be an interesting insight into (at least) this writer’s journey and how some creative works come to life.
Truly hope you enjoy this poem. Try reading it aloud to get a taste (pun intended) for some of the mouthfeel and wordplay mentioned earlier.
And as always, please let me know your thoughts, feelings, and reactions to the poem in the ‘Leave a Reply’ comment section at the bottom of this page.
-PS Conway ☘️ ☘️ ☘️
☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️ ☘️
an expectant sea
save a soft thought for me, my love,
the sunset beckons
with the warmth of tangerine ice cream
melting slowly on a pale-plated sea
for i must navigate alone
the waves taunt me with brawny feats
of briny buoyancy
each whitecap carries stories
in a language so lyrical, so feral
i must walk their wake to recall its ancient tongue
indeed, if i but abandon love
forsake this mortal coil which binds me
constrains me from my potential
surrender to the sirens’ keening
that cries into, pries apart, my soul
more! more! more!
it is a journey for the lonely
i would never dare ask you to take
let me be the villain, the oath-breaker
and deliver my sins unto an expectant sea