Friday 27 April 2012

The Ocean

When you live on a small island in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, the ocean is bound to have an effect on your way of thinking and your lifestyle. From your 'fun in the sun' beachside activities, right through to your 'hurricane worries', the ocean is an ever-present factor in your thoughts and everyday living. It teems with an abundance of life. It plays out its own rhythms. It sooths, comforts, rejuvenates, times, it can even menace. The ocean is a constant factor which cannot be ignored. The members of the Writer's Circle acknowledged this fact through this sampling of writing exercises begun in July of 2010, and continued periodically up to today.

Nor’ wester Days

I love the wild and windy damp
when a strong Nor’ wester blows,
the sea with its white capped waves,
crash on the ironshore.
The blown spume fills the air
with mist, and scent of oceans far.
South of Hog Sty Bay,
the waves are breaking, building higher,
carrying debris from the ocean depths.
Sand and seaweed,
broken shells and coral,
carpeting the roadway,
all traffic has ceased,
only onlookers stand at a safe distance
above the road.
The sea in shades of green and aqua,
and many other hues,
nature in all its forms,
is truly wonderful to behold.

By: Brenda Quin

The Sea, a living canvas

This morning,
I watched a display,
put on just for me,
a living canvas
of so many blues,
with sprites bright like snow,
leaping up,
as joyfully as lambs.
They paused,
suspended in air,
thendissolved into mist.
The sea, inanimate?

By: Fiona Pimentel

 Image Link:

South Sound Beach.

Small, dark coloured
birds feeding at the ocean’s edge,
clouds, feather like, above
the turquoise sea.
Casurina branches swaying on
the North East wind,
I stand upon the rock strewn
shore, lean against a drift log,
and watch small ghost crabs
emerging from their holes.
Alone, but not lonely, surrounded
by nature’s beauty. But yearning
for someone who sees as I
see, to share this precious
peaceful hour beside the quiet

By: Brenda Quin

I wish
I wish I had talent to write
About the smell of the sea,
Calling me to the cove,
How the wind lashes my face
And the fantastically huge waves
Splatter me with spray.
I wish I could swim at a hundred
Miles an hour, or surf over the horizon.
I wish I could rise up and fly.
So exhilarating….
I wish there could be no more tears…

By: Fiona Pimentel

15 Meetings with the Ocean.

The azure reflections call to mind
the deep sea recesses and
slow solitude of horizon, yonder.

A turquoise calm casts its spell
across the mirrored surface
of a windless ocean morning,

Lapping waters reach with
soft caress to sooth
tired body, and furtive
eyes, bringing sweet calm
of safe retreat.

At three this morning
relentless pounding
of crashing waves
calls me from sleep, down
to the nearby cove.

I looked at her and recognized
the deep blue emptiness
of her eyes, the vast ocean
wasteland of her mind.

Words sputtered out:
frothy foaming
of an exhausted ocean gale.

Sounds of laughter
carry on a breeze,
good friends and small
children cavort together
on the edge of a point
of sand.

Weathered boat tied up
at the wharf, unloads
a bounty of life gathered
from the ocean depths,
men of the sea
mutter simple words.

We gaze,
the ageless panorama of
a coastline scene framed
within the edges and panes
of summer cottage windows.

Lines of white horses
gallop over the reef
and ride up into the nestling cove
below the cliffs.

My tongue circles above and below:
the salty lick of the old dog sea.
A restlessness rustles beating beneath
my sweater; an irrepressible
desire drives my feet
across the sands of deserted

Fast eddies and shallow rock pools;
tidal waters retreat leaving
playgrounds for the inquisitive,
a harbour of hope for the
small creatures of the shore.

Dark clouds line the sky;
at water’s edge
my eyes meet the surly mood
of a stormy North Atlantic Sea.

Within the glow of setting
sun, the tentative touch
of lovers in the evening hours,
a quiet walk along the
shoreline sand.

By: H.M. Peter Westin

No comments: