The Lure

Tangled within
a germinating prescience;
skirting an oceanic rim.
Beyond the encumbrance
of temporal concerns,
drawn by the wildness of the sea,
its shoreline littered with things
torn from their moorings -
so shattered.

Flitting along the edge
like a sandpiper, snatching
minnows washed aground.
Running from the waves
that would sweep me
into dangerous currents
dragging me further out -
and under.

Whispers of the unseen
flirt like a child asking for attention.
All night the undulant splashing
upon the jetties of perception;
all night a high wind blows.
Through the waking day; resistance,
as it pulls me deeper -
and deeper.

I go under -
beneath the flowing sea;
blinded by the oppositional continua,
the sheer multiplicity of the physical,
the infinite skies of the ephemeral,
and see there is no choice
except to embrace -
or deny.


© 2003 Melissa Songer

Sweet lament of moments

Broken petals swirl upon
the water’s frothing edge;
curling into dreams
of paths long forgotten.

Bare feet tamp red clay.
The pines moan their vespers.
Thin fingers reach
toward visions of the past.

Beyond the sky
there are no gallant motions;
only stars held in place
by the wishes of children.

The magic has fled -
sprites swallowed by
disconnected notions;
lost in windy places.

Liberation hovers
with its high promise -
prodding the unwary
into a day without shadows.


© 2003 Melissa Songer