Ocean

      16 Comments on Ocean

nature without check

vast swirling depths and undulating waves
treacherous beneath the glass-calm surface
contradict her susurrating promise of peace

with original energy

 

her siren call will shipwreck you

between waves
(of pleasure)
battering your vessel,
splintering
(your desire)

 

Is this then a touch?

before

quivering me
to a new identity

 

sweeping you gently into her soothing
embrace
and depositing you
drenched and demolished reborn upon her restorative shores

 

beautiful

I am not to be denied, I compel,
I have stores plenty and to spare,

nude woman in a cross-body hug pose, overlaid with ocean water

And anything I have
I bestow.

dangerous

 

gently fierce

Do I contradict myself?

{feminine}

Very well then I contradict myself.

 

 

OCEAN

(I am large, I contain multitudes.)

 

 

.

Sinful Sunday

 

 

NOTE:  Words in blue excerpted from the poetry of Walt Whitman.

16 thoughts on “Ocean

  1. May More

    I love what you have done here with Walt Whitman poetry and your own words. Along with the photo, this post has quite blown me away. WOW
    PS. Don’t know W Whitman but will defo check him out now

    Reply
  2. fondles

    I enjoyed the combination of your own words interlaced with that of WaltWhitman’s too. And like May I haven’t heard of him but I”ll go and google it. 🙂

    Reply
  3. Jade

    I’m a huge Walt Whitman fan. As I was reading your poem, I kept thinking, “this sounds familiar somehow…” lol Beautifully, powerfully done.

    Reply
    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Heh. I’d be surprised if the Sound is exempt. Or the Strait for that matter.

      (Which leads me to G.M. Ford. Have you ever read Who In Hell Is Wanda Fuca? ?)

      Reply
  4. Jo

    I LOVE this – as I was writing my own piece, I thought a lot about Whitman (and Emily Dickinson, hence the title of my post) and went back to Leaves of Grass to read the Sea Drift section.

    Reply
    1. Mrs Fever Post author

      Oh, I really like that your mind went there!

      Whitman was – and remains, I think – an enigma. I read him and think, “He’s so plain-spoken” (sometimes to the point of tedium), but then it’s as though an electric current arcs through his words with sudden, shockingly eloquent profundity.

      Ginsberg described him more than once as “bombastic” (Have you ever read his dissertation on Leaves of Grass? It’s here, if you’re interested: https://m.poets.org/poetsorg/text/taking-walk-through-leaves-grass), which fits in its way; and yet he was a singular sometimes-soft voice apart, with idea{l}s far ahead of his time.

      Reply

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