Sea
Silvered steel.
Horizon bright
below the fitful sun.
Far away
a narrow line of land,
blue-grey,
sky-coloured, sea-coloured,
beyond the drifting ripples of the puckered water.
Cliff
near at hand
pitted, hollowed, sands against the sea.
Rocky claws embedded in the deep,
white-foam-washed, sculpted
by time, the winds and waves,
stands softened by November's hazy air, seemingly asleep.
Italy holds such romance for me and you brought this so clearly to life in this poem. Again you've bowled me over. Sublime poetry.... HG: -) xx
The sea - silvered steel! How true. I can see the whole of this scene in my mind's eye. Another delightful read. Thank you, Jan. Love, Fran xxx
Ah, a scenic view with interesting twists. Starts off so hard (steel) and unsettled (fitful sun) . Then sweetens into drifting ripples and a suggestive puckered water. This rises with good contrast with the cliff, sands against, rocky claws and ending with the softened hazy air, asleep but this is not the end, a hint that something else might happen (seemingly asleep) . An artist does not paint a photo but speaks a language. Well done.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
It has all been said... I'll second Helen. t x