Poem: Cliffs Not Withstanding

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
at peace.

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.

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