Sunday, April 02, 2006
Atlantic
We had an uneventful journey to Florida, and spent this afternoon at the ocean. It always amazes me how calming the ocean is, how it spawns in us feelings of peace and tranquility, when by rights it ought to fill us with the same awe, the same feeling of insignificance in the face of grandeur, that the heavens do. They are both so much greater than we, seemingly infinite, remote, untouched by our fears, hopes, dreams.
One thing I have always wanted was to have a home on the ocean -- the lonely grey New England Atlantic to be exact, although I have come to love the turquoise Florida Atlantic with it's beautiful, beautiful breakers and its abundance of orange and white shells. In my dreams, it's a home where I wake early with the sun, drink fresh orange juice, and write for hours sitting on the beach, facing the waves. Today, walking on sand pounded almost as hard as pavement by the breakers, the wind tugging at my skirt, I had another thought about this dream... fortunately I was able to hold it in my mind until I returned home this evening...
Umbilical Cord
By Pamela K. Taylor
I thought to sit by the ocean today
Pen and paper in hand
To let the wind blow through my mind
The waves roar poems in my ears
And I, ever the faithful scribe,
To write their verses as my own
But before I could rise
From the darkened alcove
Of Erato’s laptop shrine
I saw before my eyes
Paper splotched with salty spray
With patches dissolved completely away
Sheets flustered by sea breezes
Turning their corners up at their heels
Or carried away in flamenco whirls
By lusty, gusty ocean troubadours
Then I remembered my old roller ball
Many a year he has pined
For my fingers’ secure embrace
Supplanted by keys and buttons
Patiently he waits for their return
But master keyboard is a jealous lover
My hand crabbed
My muscles cramped
At the thought of clenched exertions
And hours of scribbled longhand
Take the laptop then
Beneath the umbrella’s shade
A beach towel for a table
With care to keep the sand at bay
For what
I asked
An hour or two
Until the batteries run low
Right in the middle no doubt
Of the surf’s most intimate whisper
A cabana I needed
With screened veranda
Opening upon the shore
A table
A chair
A stool for my feet
And my precious electric umbilical cord ¶ 11:35 PM
One thing I have always wanted was to have a home on the ocean -- the lonely grey New England Atlantic to be exact, although I have come to love the turquoise Florida Atlantic with it's beautiful, beautiful breakers and its abundance of orange and white shells. In my dreams, it's a home where I wake early with the sun, drink fresh orange juice, and write for hours sitting on the beach, facing the waves. Today, walking on sand pounded almost as hard as pavement by the breakers, the wind tugging at my skirt, I had another thought about this dream... fortunately I was able to hold it in my mind until I returned home this evening...
Umbilical Cord
By Pamela K. Taylor
I thought to sit by the ocean today
Pen and paper in hand
To let the wind blow through my mind
The waves roar poems in my ears
And I, ever the faithful scribe,
To write their verses as my own
But before I could rise
From the darkened alcove
Of Erato’s laptop shrine
I saw before my eyes
Paper splotched with salty spray
With patches dissolved completely away
Sheets flustered by sea breezes
Turning their corners up at their heels
Or carried away in flamenco whirls
By lusty, gusty ocean troubadours
Then I remembered my old roller ball
Many a year he has pined
For my fingers’ secure embrace
Supplanted by keys and buttons
Patiently he waits for their return
But master keyboard is a jealous lover
My hand crabbed
My muscles cramped
At the thought of clenched exertions
And hours of scribbled longhand
Take the laptop then
Beneath the umbrella’s shade
A beach towel for a table
With care to keep the sand at bay
For what
I asked
An hour or two
Until the batteries run low
Right in the middle no doubt
Of the surf’s most intimate whisper
A cabana I needed
With screened veranda
Opening upon the shore
A table
A chair
A stool for my feet
And my precious electric umbilical cord ¶ 11:35 PM
