Pearls, I grasp,
sitting on a pale-flesh beach.
The sun is a lion,
talons reaching into the clouds.
I feel below the sand;
there is a hint of sadness there.
Memory, she says to me,
is but a hope for dead dreamers.
She is the sun;
golden, fragrant, world weary.
My love for you wanes with the moon,
she says to me, her voice a silk cord,
bound in wild and delicious colors.

The waves rush toward us.


Hi, there, I just found your name on my friends' page and came over to see what you write. I like this poem--the images of the sun as a lion and also as world weary and waning with the moon. I like too how you manage the line on memory midway through the poem--we get a sense of it before hand, in feeling below the sand, get the statement, then feel it played out a bit in the last lines, maybe because while that love is waning the images are still evocative, the world still open, and the waves rushing in. I'd like to go through and read more of your poetry here, but I have to rush out this morning. I'll check back later. Enjoyed the read.


Thanks! I didn't realize all that was in there. Widens my perspective a bit too. This, is a good thing.


Canada College I found you with the Schools system and I just made a Canada College community today, if you want to join you can post anytime. My name is Jessica and this fall I'm gonna be a new student there. So Hello!