Friday, March 18, 2011

Things to Do If You Are the Ocean: An Original List Poem








We had a brutal winter here in Massachusetts. It felt so good yesterday when the sun came out and the temperatures reached into the sixties. Ah, what a lovely taste of spring! I was so happy that I could take my ninety-three-year-old mother outside into the fresh air. I took her for a ride along the coast. I love living close to the ocean--don't know if I could ever live far from it. My favorite place to vacation is on the mid-coast of Maine.

Two Pictures Taken in Marblehead Harbor

Here is a "things to do" list poem about the ocean that I wrote a few years ago:

THINGS TO DO IF YOU ARE THE OCEAN

Wrap yourself in a shawl of sky-blue silk.
Trim its edges with lace.
Embroider it with seabirds and sequins of sunlight.
Lap the rocky shore with your salty tongue.
In summer, cool the burning sands.
Let Moon be your mistress.
Rise and fall at her command.



**********
Picures Taken on Westport Island, Maine


This picture was taken in Salem, Massachusetts
at the house of a friend.
Here I am with some of my oldest and dearest friends.
I have known some of these women since
I was five years old.


********************

At Wild Rose Reader, I have early drafts of two end-of-winter poems.


At Political Verses, you'll find Scott and Dot--a feminist nursery rhyme written by J. Patrick Lewis.
The Poetry Friday Roundup is at A Wrung Sponge.

4 comments:

jama said...

What a wonderful post. Your poem is just lovely and all the pictures are beautiful. My SIL comes from Marblehead. We visited once and found it very interesting.

Elaine Magliaro said...

Jama,

Did your SIL attend public schools in Marblehead? The town harbor is gorgeous. In the summer, there are thousands of boats moored there.

Amy LV said...

I want to wear "a shawl of sky blue silk" and be the ocean! Those photos are gorgeous too, especially the ones up top, of Marblehead Harbor. I like saying the words "Marblehead Harbor!" A.

Carlie said...

Oh! *sigh* I can't wait for summer. This poem clinches it.