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A penny's round

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  • A penny's round

    At my boots, in the crack
    of rockshelf jammed with shards,
    the way the tides had worn
    a shell was a white face,
    thumbnail moon; the mollusc
    ruins of the ocean
    had hollowed the human
    chance in a penny’s round.
    How many horizons
    had raised and buried suns
    before our accident
    found us facing semblance?
    - I of the self, the shell
    of its unread cipher.
    As a shearwater dived
    I leapt in eyes of prey.

  • #2
    This to me had the sound of becoming part something greater than we individually are even as we die. I loved the flow of this Grant.

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      It is, indeed, something of a merge, Alexandra. That it flows makes my heart glow; many thanks!

  • #3
    How many horizons
    had raised and buried suns
    before our accident
    found us facing semblance?


    A poem about finding our selves?
    With a magical/metaphorical back drop
    On the shore of our favorite beach/ocean

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      As often happens, this is drawn directly from experience, Bobby. I was sitting by the inlet near which I live, on a favourite rock, as I made this.

  • #4
    The whole piece is eloquent, with your trademark lexically precision.

    How many horizons
    had raised and buried suns
    before our accident
    found us facing semblance?


    That is a GREAT PHRASE!

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      That seems to be a popular passage, Dwayne. It's funny, because I thought it might grasp overmuch at grandness, and so risk bathos.

    • DWAYNE
      DWAYNE commented
      Editing a comment
      I say, risk it! It is the splash of color to the canvas.

      One can always step back, but in your case, ALWAYS RISK IT!

      No bathos here!

  • #5
    This whole poem is incredible, and I can but echo the words of the others. How you continue to create such brilliant works never ceases to amaze me!

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      Each one of these pieces is my last, N Y Sonnet. Maybe I shall cease to create them at some point. It's a precipice. Many thanks for your gracious praise.

    • N. Y. Sonnet
      N. Y. Sonnet commented
      Editing a comment
      'Twould be a sorry day indeed if you were to cease! I trust that, if such a day were to come, it lies far in the future.

  • #6
    So eloquent with words that unlike old dogs you teach new tricks another poem I loved. Thank you

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      I am an old cat, Parkinsonspoet; there is nothing new under the sun. Thank you!

  • #7
    Again you have taken an observation of life and imbued it with reflection and wonder. This is a very pleasant read. Sixteen lines of six syllables each. That forms it up nicely.

    Comment


    • grant hayes
      grant hayes commented
      Editing a comment
      Glad you saw the structure there, Rhymist; I think it worked quite well in this one. I am much occupied with the ways of water of late.

      I find that if I write directly of what I see and what occurs to me as I look, I write affectingly. It may not seem so, but it's a flatly representational approach.

    • RhymeLovingWriter
      RhymeLovingWriter commented
      Editing a comment
      I hear what you are saying, but the descriptor 'flatly' made me stop and read again. If it was so in the approach or observance, all subject matter acquires dimension under your skillful pen.

  • #8
    you write beautifully about what haunts us. as if with special insight from the divine watchmakers...

    Comment


    • #9
      That is a lovely compliment, lunar glide. That you thus appraise my offerings brings me joy.

      Comment

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