Water prickling,
seeping through pebbles,
over and under to the far-out sea.
Come back, come back, be filled.
One lonely gull,
no more than that to prove I exist,
here, now.
Mounds of brown sea-weed,
great lumps of slime and slither on denser rock.
The scent of ozone everywhere
neither sweet nor pungent, in my lungs, my mind.
Xylophone tinkles on pebbles,
Power of Cello in wise old rocks.
Trumpet call from standing trees
that hold the cliffs a few days more.
A muffled silence in sagging,
rain filled clouds,
the long, lonely, notes roaring in my ears.
Masked Native 
Beautiful poem. And I love how you contrast the lonely gull ‘proving you exist’ with all that music & silence happening. And the repetition of lonely, first a gull, and then notes.
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Hi Steven, thanks for your comments. Some days, the vision of black and white on the water, echoed in the sky, brings a feeling of emptiness, something that I called lonely in the poem, but there are so many other descriptive words; desolate, deserted or self-contained aloneness, finding the right word is like digging for treasure and I wish I could find the perfect one to describe, but all the while, the orchestra of the universe plays its perfect tune.
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I think it is beautiful…simply because the words actually take me to such a quiet place that I have known…not a sad or dreary place, but a place where there is peace…satisfaction, like when I played under the stairs as a child…I was safe there and invisible…hmmm I think I’ll start writing again. All the best to you in your journey. 🙂
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thank you so much for your comments on my post ‘Sound Of Silence,’ your words made me realise more of what I am really saying
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This is lovely
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Thank you so much for commenting.I appreciate it.
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