A sea becomes.

Of one memory, one

for the end of the dark does not lie,

I will not lie in it; darkness perfused

I shut the window; here he bleeds,

here he lies, though nothing is there.

In furrows, mercy, it is laughable.

The Earth succinct in waves

in a lonely larva

the dead poet’s dreams.

Stand under my umbrella,

we embrace in impassioned poverty

of loneliness,

an interaction of alacrity

and of bloodshed in the oceans

in the paeans

of sorrel idles

in a cluster of spring rain,

a sea becomes;

felled in trees

where you are shorn

off a lonely leaf.

Innocently, it becomes

entombed in the empty hands

and precipice by the fantasy

of the sea; it bleeds,

with not an end in sight,

it bleeds in maddening suffering;

a planet stirs

in figures of shadows

in the dark recess of my memory,

a trance.

Β© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

42 thoughts on “A sea becomes.”

  1. Absolutely beautiful, this poem. I love the dark overtone, to it.

    Indeed, the ocean is more lonely and more painful, than the land. Even if where we walk seems more chaotic, the ocean seems to solidify all we feel, even if it is liquid.

    It’s like from a song I once heard, called “Like a Perpetual Funeral”.

    The lyrics go…

    “There’s a lonely ocean out there,
    Watched from my shore of despair.”

    You have outstanding work! πŸ™‚

    Liked by 3 people

  2. I have to admit that I felt like it was meant for me, especially the sea ,lonely lava & dead poet, but all of a sudden you turned around and made it into a powerful positive way of thinking of it. Thank you for the time and goodbye for now πŸ§™πŸ»β€β™‚οΈβœ¨πŸŒΉ

    Liked by 3 people

    1. I’m glad you could resonate with it too. Those first few lines were evocative to me actually. I’m happy you enjoyed reading the poem.

      I thank you for your time and feedback. Always appreciated.

      Liked by 1 person

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