Cliffs Not Withstanding
It was a good dream. Notable. Atmospheric.
The paths to the ocean were steeper than I remember.
People were fully dressed. Some were nice.
Some were ugly. It did not matter.
The paths to the ocean were steeper than I remember
and the views, ocean on three sides,
cliffs and boulders were rugged and harsh
against a gentle blue sea.
Someone tried to give me a football.
That was wierd.
But mostly, I was left alone to listen
to the waves and wind.
It was like a chapel with sky
and no one to worship with,
everyone leaving me and me
Nothing happened. SImply the scene
and the sound and the smell of salt air
in a strange land (Someone told me I was in Brazil)
feeling ever so at home. Safe. Cliffs not withstanding.
This poem won the grand prize for the month
from Poetry Universe, a group of 57,000 poets and readers.