Boulder Poem by Seán O Muiríosa


Rating: 4.7

I am an erratic.
Look at my edges
How they pierce the landscape
Of the desert each day.
I am forever still.
I take in everything.
The reptiles crawling legs
Paw at me each day…
Searching for a pulse?
I am dead to the desert
Yet kept alive by it.
Golden sands and
Dunes in the distance,
I have eyed one for years.
How I long to be rolled
To its edge.

I exfoliate and blister
With such thoughts.
Every night the moon comes.
I talk to her,
I know she’s a she.
She never replies.
And her silence
Makes my core ache.
Her sullen silence
Is the epitome
Of something I'll never be.

In the desert this suffering
Cannot continue.
The others laugh and frown
But I don’t speak reptilish.
The cacti can prick me.
I feel nothing.
But I'll persist and
Continue to whisper
To her on cold nights
While my outer shell
Rolls with salty droplets.

I will make it to that peak.
For someday the virulent
Freeze and thaw will
Crack me to pieces.
But better that
Than my pounding heart.
And I will blow over
Those rolling sand dunes
With or without
The silence of moons.

Daniel Tyler 25 February 2006

This is truly amazing Sean- you take a passive object and make it feel. A considerable achievement- every word and phrase fit perfectly and resonate.

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Ian Curtis 24 February 2006

Simply a masterpiece Ian

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Ivy Christou 23 February 2006

your writing has improved greatly my friend! this was stunning, not even one word was wasted here and all the images used were breath taking! excellent! ! HBH

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Gregory Gunn 18 February 2006

Every image fits precisely here. The overall feeling of desolation comes through across the vast expanse of the desert as well as space as you attempt to contact the ' winter-hearted Luna, ' another boulder and romantic symbol with which you long to connect. Absolutely resplendent on a myriad of levels. What a deliciously morbid metaphor with that 'the virulent freeze and thaw..'

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Hugh Cobb 12 February 2006

Your writing is quite good Sean. It is much more mature than one of your years might produce. Excellent imagery and imagination: Projecting your consciousness into the stone and sensing how it might feel and respond to its environment. A wonderful poem. Wishing you the best and keep up the writing. You are an excellent young poet. Hugh

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