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.
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About maskednative
There is a gazebo at the end of the garden. It overlooks the estuary. When the tide is in, sea water pools around seaweed covered rocks. The sound is peaceful, meditative. I drink an early morning coffee, listen to the birds singing morning songs, watch a spider spin his fragile life between timber beams above my head. Even in the harshest of winters, the rise and fall of tides, sun-light on water, movement of sky, cloud, moon and stars, allows an awareness of nature behind the mask of perceived reality. I offer my words and pictures in celebration and gratitude to God, for allowing me a glimpse behind the mask.
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Bio: Teri Flynn was born in Wales of Welsh and Irish Parents. Educated in England, she moved to Co.Waterford, Ireland in 1997 where her Poetry has since appeared in “The Turning Tide” – an anthology of new writing from Co.Waterford. “Southward” The Journal of the Munster Literature Centre and “Imagine” The Tallow Writers Group quarterly review. Her poetry appears in “Sticky Orchard”, a group effort with Alan Garvey, Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill and grant assisted by Waterford County Council’s Arts Grant Scheme. “Listening To The Grass Grow” with Jim O’Donnell and Anthony O’Neill was published by Edward Power at Rectory press and most recently, in ‘Murmurings’, Remembering Anthony O’Neil, with Jim O’Donnell and Alan Garvey.
Her poem Queen Of The Sea was included in the Chesapeake Exhibition at RUH, Bath, 2011. Figurehead Carver, Andy Peters. Photographic display of Ship’s Figurehead Carvings by Richard Sibley – http://www.tallshipsgallery.com
A themed display of her oil paintings and poems entitled Cynefin, were on display in Waterford during The Imagine Festival in 2017. Cynefin-pronounced kuh-nev-in is a Welsh word meaning habitat or place. A place where a being feels it ought to live, where nature around you feels right and welcoming.
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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