March 16, 2004
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Sea
The grass-harps of madmen clatter
to a nine-nine rhythm
first wave, second wave, the sand
is entering itself with pleasure
will you, third wave, notice it;
the fourth wave breaks the surface
bearing nothing but this fifth wave birth
upon the sixth wave shore;
the guilty weaken quickly as the seventh wave
goes down to spread itself upon the breast
of all the eighth waves in the world
before the ninth wave turns them under.
(written by me in my youth)
Deep Thought:If I ever get real rich, I hope I’m not real mean to poor people, like now.
Today I am grateful for: Hormones
Comments (6)
Interesting poem–I’m curious to what you were thinking about when you wrote it and what were you trying to say?
Darned if I can remember exactly. I was intrigued by the idea of the ocean making a series of 9 waves each larger than the other and then starting over.
The perfect photo to go with the poem. One really gets a sense of the mystery & power of the sea in that poem, the symbolism is nice too. It has an almost classical feel to it.
Man. If I had written poetry that good when I was young I’d be rich by now, and would have had an ego the size of Texas. You are amazing.
T
That helps understand a little bit better. It has a nice cadence.
The grassharps of madmen referred to the kind of grass that grows by the sea being blown by the wind.