The sea…

You might have noticed that I seem to have a bit of a thing for the sea. I do. I love it. The copious paintings of it probably gave it away. What you probably don’t know about me is that I also love to write about it. I don’t share my writing very often but I thought you might like to read this poem that I wrote after the most incredibly vivid dream about being at the shore, watching the waves crash in.

The sea called to me

I dreamt about the sea last night, it was wild and dangerous and free.

The whiteness of the sea foam as it violently called to me.

I stood and watched it ebb and flow, and swallow up its catch.

In the anger and the power, I knew I’d met my match.

The danger of its crashing rage is beautiful to see.

The fury of the breakers as they crash against the quay. 

My heart beat fast, my temper flared, the rawness of the sea.  

It is a mirror for my broken soul, the emptiness in me. 

The beauty of this churning spume shows that hope is not all lost.

But the journey back to life it seems, will come at quite the cost. 

A battle that I relish not, an energy I do not own. 

The ocean feels the pressure too and I hear it weep and moan.

My place in life has changed so much, it’s constant twists and turns. 

And like the sea my violent thoughts, constantly they churn.

My emotions overflow my banks, with anger I do seep. 

I wish my thoughts would disappear, get pulled out to the deep.

The blackened rocks, the turquoise beast comes gnarling to the shore.

Still the roaring of the waves just leave me wanting more. 

I stand there reeling from the sight, the power of the sea. 

My face is a mirror for the sense of loss in me. 

The joy it gives me quickly gone, as waves flow from the beach. 

And yet the calming feeling is not lost, it is always close at reach. 

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