Hear the surging lift
of water weight sheer and clear
in wave's lip hover and spume,
until the foam dance white sparkle
at the thin top edge
of sensuous lip so finely carved
bowl edge of crystal delicacy
in sun's rays and breeze flighted spray
ridges, cresting with my hope.
But gravity's crush crashes
down and down into white flat foam;
leaves the surface
as a wild animal's coat
spotted and blotched so haphazardly neat
as I feel the load of my grief.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
loading grief, good write, thanks. I invite you to read my poems and comment.