Fantasy on a Theme of the Sea

Categories Poetry

Night’s gloved hand roused me, touching my feverish brow

And filled me with a thousand waking longings –

And as if led by the great hand of sleep,

I wandered with my broken thoughts

As if barefoot, pulled by the tide –

To stand at the water’s edge

Like some painted, strange figurehead,

Pale in the sea’s shadows,

My face against the silence,

‘Tis I and the rain here together,

Entwined in this moment.

A boat moored nearby turned over in its sleep,

And the moon’s sweet face

Peered from the windows of the fishermen’s cottages.

The silence was filled with my life,

As I stood there,

And felt the longing of the waiting pages, the poised pen,

The desk all in darkness.

All these things that had gone into my hand –

The crying of the gulls and the sea’s restless, grey soul,

Upon these shores, I strew words in return,

Sowed them like seeds

To take quiet root and burgeon upon your sands –

Or be collected like shells

By the local children at dawn.

 

© Elizabeth Jane Timms 2019

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Title Image credit: Keven Law from Los Angeles, USA [CC BY-SA 2.0 (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0)]

Elizabeth Jane Timms
Elizabeth Jane Timms is a royal historian, freelance writer, research professional and poet, based in Oxford. She is a member of the Oxford Writers' Circle and the University of Oxford Poetry Society. She writes for journals, magazines, newsletters and the web. She divides her time between Oxford and London.

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