Washed Upon the Shore
How long has this pool been here?
I have never seen it in this place before.
It has to come from somewhere.
Like a weary sailor washed upon the shore.
The branches may have kept it hidden.
Guarded it from general sight.
Until I came walking through the wood.
On this warm and sleepless night.
I can see the stars shining there.
Between the reflection of the trees.
They play pick-a-boo, the stars.
As the pines sway with the growing breeze.
The water smells dank and musky,
Like decaying leaves on autumn earth.
I am reminded of old cemeteries.
The peaceful scent of heavenly birth.
The moon illuminates my uneven path,
Glinting off of a handful of scattered stones.
A nice round weight that fits easily into my pocket.
They are the blinding white of sun bleached bones.
My feet slide readily into the mud,
As I wade gently into the unknown depth.
Slowly liquid surrounds me in oblivion.
The lift of burden takes away my breath.
As I slip downwards and the sky slips away,
I have a thought so maudlin I can't help but smile.
When next a midnight traveler comes upon this place
With sluggish curiousity to stop and stay awhile,
"How long has this girl been here?
I have never seen her this in place before.
She had to come from somewhere.
This broken body washed upon the shore."
I have never seen it in this place before.
It has to come from somewhere.
Like a weary sailor washed upon the shore.
The branches may have kept it hidden.
Guarded it from general sight.
Until I came walking through the wood.
On this warm and sleepless night.
I can see the stars shining there.
Between the reflection of the trees.
They play pick-a-boo, the stars.
As the pines sway with the growing breeze.
The water smells dank and musky,
Like decaying leaves on autumn earth.
I am reminded of old cemeteries.
The peaceful scent of heavenly birth.
The moon illuminates my uneven path,
Glinting off of a handful of scattered stones.
A nice round weight that fits easily into my pocket.
They are the blinding white of sun bleached bones.
My feet slide readily into the mud,
As I wade gently into the unknown depth.
Slowly liquid surrounds me in oblivion.
The lift of burden takes away my breath.
As I slip downwards and the sky slips away,
I have a thought so maudlin I can't help but smile.
When next a midnight traveler comes upon this place
With sluggish curiousity to stop and stay awhile,
"How long has this girl been here?
I have never seen her this in place before.
She had to come from somewhere.
This broken body washed upon the shore."
Oh my gosh I love this! Your so good at poetry.
I think the best lines in this poem are -- "The water smells dank and musky, / Like decaying leaves on autumn earth. / I am reminded of old cemeteries. /The peaceful scent of heavenly birth."
I LOVE that you connected the idea of death to "heavenly birth." This concept of a cemetary not being a place of coldness and sorrow, but rather a peaceful place that brings joy in new birth. I think it's such a basic idea that you spin in such a fresh and original way. Plus the phrasing is just beautiful -- "dank and musky, like decaying leaves on autumn earth." It practically comes alive.
Also, I want to thank you for the comment on my own poem. I would've said something earlier but I didn't realize it was there until today when I went to edit some posts. :) Poetry is such a great thing.