Poetry: No Waves Against the Shore
This lovely sand, now which I stand
Hugs my feet like times before
The air is plain, the breeze is sane
No waves against the shore
The sky is golden but the birds won’t sing
My name in their high-pitched calls
The flowers bloom but shroud in gloom
Like dolls behind glass walls
This place so ideal, yet I cannot feel
What paradise is to be felt
My mind wonders and heart ponders
Where is the beauty that once dwelt?
The sun won’t set, I need my rest
Why no waves against the shore?
And then to me, the thoughts they rain
Could I be the cause of this change?
Gravity it seems, I halted its call
Thus, no waves against the shore
I wait for the breeze to drift the roses’ scent
But my way they would not bend
Beauty, it still exists, I can see
But none would appear beautiful for me
And why is it? I ask aloud
Has nature become proud?
I seek answers, I strain my ears
But all I hear are whispers, “Oh dear”
Whispers of “oh dear” signify my fault I fear
How with nature could I have sparked a war?
Beauty is rife, how could I strive
To yield a waveless shore?
And nature replies . . .
You have built your paths with hefty puffs
Over beauty though she silently roared
So the birds stop singing when they saw you ignoring
Their cries and Mother Nature’s calls
The roses are now dull because you never smiled
When your heart they endeavored to thaw
You shrugged their sweet and kind-smelling wit
And continued breaking nature’s law
You robbed me of my beautiful flaws
And supplanted instead with ugly scars
The waves don’t crash against the shore
Cause you froze their forces with your pitch black stars
And she told me that I had never
Thought of beauty as unforever
Since of beauty I never truly cared
Beauty ceases to be there
Now I look around, the sight makes me sick
Everything seems so ill and dim and bleak
Gems of beauty I did not treasure when abound
I long for now. I yearn for the crashing waves’ sound.
The sky is gold but there’s a cold
That lingers in the air
I begin pondering, I begin shuddering
At the brushstroke of my hideous affairs
Tranquility soothes the soul, but silence eats it
And drains the glass of conceit
Then I plead . . .
O wise mother, how can I fix my blunder?!
Where’s the key to the door
For the sky to glow and the rivers to flow and the breeze to blow
For the waves to crash against the shore once more?
And nature answers . . .
The glass is shattered, but my forces will kindle
If you make your choices, and of course, some sacrifices
It’s in your power to decide, your atonement has to take flight
Then the waves will dance when you’ve taken this chance
To myself I mutter . . .
I now have found that life is drowned
In melancholic moments
when without nature’s merriment
Never will I wish to go back to this time
When ivies do not climb
When there are no waves against the shore
Now that you have reached the end of this poem, thanks for reading!
© 2012 Carmen Beth
More by this Author
Be true to yourself, be yourself
What would lie in the carriages of your past?
Tricks to aid the memory of the sequence of the wives of one of England's most famous king.