Sunday, November 18, 2012
Ocean Drum
My home is Nova Scotia,
its ocean a drum,
but I’m far from the harbour -
forty years by thumb
I left as a boy
with world-beating dreams
Found a city with all
and nothing it seems
Sometimes it was hungry
Sometimes it was beat
Built a web of drifters
who I could mislead
They tossed me free
when I lifted the mask
I’ll be embraced soon
if my time outlasts
this journey I’m on
If I die on the way
see cold waves rock
my body and sway
See the sun glisten
off lifeless white skin
My home is Nova Scotia
Let it sink in
Labels: 2012, nova scotia, philosophy, Poetry
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You will die journeying but let it be awhile off yet. At the same time you are embraced a'ready, you have a home, where you haven't worn out your welcome. *shrug* that is one satisfaction of building a reason to stay a few meters from the cliffs edge.
Chris your place and relationship with N.S.is self evident as your journeying far away your feelings of being ready to be embraced by the cold sea you remember at the end of your journey. A thoughtful poem which stands being re-read again and again.
TWM: Indeed indeed. There's a beach plot with my name on it, when the time comes.
Cuby: Thank you very much.
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Cuby: Thank you very much.
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