Driftwood; Stranded Ashore

By lupus tenebrae

The cold sting of morning; fangs bore
like
splinters, jutting upward, frilled,

poised patiently, yearning
to be cast into the
encroaching seafoam,

driftwood; blanched, stranded ashore, lit
-ter worn in
motley
patches, cleansed of life.

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Published on Saturday, November 21, 2015. Filed under: "Reflective" and "Poetry"

Author's Note:

The result of some late-morning ponderings while revisiting my favourite spot by the marina.

Awards

July 23rd, 2022

Comments on "Driftwood; Stranded Ashore"

On Monday, November 23, 2015, soul_versing (882) wrote:

Simply put... I applaud your descriptive frame of mind, astounding. .applauds.
On Saturday, November 21, 2015, SummonerOfShadows666 (28) wrote:

There is beauty in being forsaken, am I right? I can relate to this a lot of times. If driftwood can have a story to tell then this is it. Incredible, otherworldly poetry. ,-lonerkid
On Saturday, November 21, 2015, TheProphetUntold (167) wrote:

I enjoy poetry because I feel it lives at the core of me, simply. Perhaps that's why I prefer short poems with simple structures and meanings that really center on the idea. When someone writes something like this, that strikes the perfect chord in the core of it's subject and ambiance it really resonates with me. Words can build such a fantastic mood and meaning, but just one misplaced word can scatter it into a conscious mess. Like autumn leaves, they can fall in such mesmerizing patterns and define vast landscapes...or clutter up in a frustrating mess or ugly piles at the end of the drive. You never leave your words in ugly piles. This piece is indeed mesmerizing, and it's really the simplicity of it, and then it is the fine detail in the simple presentation. Deeper hues and meanings. Sometimes it feels like people don't appreciate things like this anymore, I do. Great poem, man. Keep them coming. +tpu+