Linda Studley

Can't Put the Pen Down…

Archive for the tag “ocean”

How Like the Masts of Sailing Ships

How like the masts of sailing ships
are the tops of the bare bone trees.
And how like the creak of deck boards
is their groaning in the breeze.

How like the seething ocean
is the song of trees in the wind.
And how many days must pass
before I see the sea again?

How many days must pass away
Ere I see the sea again?

How like the wind carved sand dunes
is the snow in sculpted drifts.
And how like the tang of salt spray
are the tears upon my lips.

How like the lost gull’s crying
is the yearning in my dreams.
And how many months must fade
before I go back to the sea?

How many months must fade away
Ere I go back to the sea?

How like the foam upon the wave
Is the frost on the swaths of hay
How like the fog that shrouds the shore
Is the wood smoke, low and gray.

How like the ocean’s ebbing tide
does my journey backwards flow.
And how many years must pass
before I find my way back home?

How many days and months and years
Till the sea calls me back home?



Dewdrops steam
Into a dream
of cloud ascension
‘til suspension
bursts the dam and sets them free.

Raindrops dripping,
splashing, stippling
pond and puddle
washing mud filled
tributaries to the sea,

tithe the tidal
aqueous idyll,
water grumbles,
roars and rumbles,
every form and size and shape

Flume and fountain,
spilling, spouting
torrents gush,
and rivers rush
to estuarial escape.

Waves come reaching
‘cross the beach and
claw the sand
with hungry hands,
draining freshet, rill, and runnel

salty, swollen
sated ocean
‘pon reflection
pays respect in
cloudy offerings to the sun.

Clouds grow heavy
break the levee
drown the world
with water swirling
downpour, outpour, rippling rain.

And in the first
refreshing burst
the raindrops strike
and start the cycle
tithe and tears and tithe again.

Sea Change

Waves will always break
Step into the surf once more.
Sea change is coming.




Standing barefoot on the edge of the ocean
waves pounding, ocean heartbeat calling me
to sleep and yet my eyes
will not close.
Slowly,  the surf eats away the sand
beneath my feet
grain by grain undermining
my body’s resolve to stay awake until,
my foundation dissolved, I crumble
into exhaustion only to rise again,
red eyed and unrefreshed to
face the waves once more.



What I Dreamed

When I was a kid, my dreams for the future
included flying cars, and world peace,
and vacations at resorts on the moon or in
domes on the bottom of the ocean.
I dreamed of terraforming Mars and boarding
a spaceship as easily as I would step onto a bus.

What a rip.
I guess I stuck around long enough
to see a lot of dreams get left behind like
stacks of old ‘Popular Science’ magazines.

I guess the important dreams were the ones
I didn’t realize I had until they came true;
healthy children,
good friends,
and you.
You’re not what I dreamed of.
You’re better.



My Brain (Part III)

Come close.
Put your ear next to mine.
Can you hear the sound of the ocean?
I can.

I hear waves on a beach I’ll never visit,
gulls on a horizon I’ll never see.
The trick is to not care anymore.
To let it trickle away
like the sand pulled backwards
by the surf.

Come close.
Put your ear next to mine and sigh.
I showed you my ocean,
now you show me yours.



Memories of the Sea

Once upon a million years ago or maybe more
some of us climbed dripping from the ocean to the shore.

Some of us breathed in the air and stood on new fledged  limbs
and turned our backs upon the home where we once used to swim.

And some of us remember still the ebb and flow and tide
of our ancestral home where our siblings still abide.

Some go back to the water, some stay away in fear,
but all of us have memories of the sea that salt our tears.


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