My Love, the sea, is calling me

3 Comments

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  • Nature

    Poem Commentary

    the dust now clings to eon's long past, but one thing remains, from deep with in the soul of man, there be a yearning for the sea,........special thanks to Oblaidon for helping with the title.

    My Love, the sea, is calling me





    she summon's me,
    from shore's that be

    her eyes elude's,
    too hue's of green

    a tempest she be,
    those mood's of blue

    alluring to me,
    wee morning mist

    with sweet ambrosia,
    she moisten's my lip

    what playful taunt's,
    those splash's be

    from her bounty be
    a cast upon my feet

    that voice she hides
    from shell's of sea

    come to me,
    my soul in need

    she calls to me,
    those moistened lips I felt

    her scent now lingers,
    her voice now enticing me

    for Sea be calling me
     

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    icu2 commented on My Love, the sea, is calling me

    04-12-2010

    What a horrifying thing for wives of sea-men back in the dark ages. They would kiss there husbands who were off to work, goodbye and not see them for a year or more sometimes! Crazy. I'm one of those women who would be saying "If ye want the see then yer not fer me...bloke!" lol. Very nice poem, I enjoyed it.

    Oblaidon commented on My Love, the sea, is calling me

    04-02-2010

    Very nice. I would have named it differently to envoke a more of a surprise at the end.

    alb29oclfl

    04/02/2010

    ty, I will take a few steps away, and look at it from a distance and see, I was unsure about the end and how it sounded.

    Oblaidon

    04/02/2010

    I like the ending. Just a thought not to give it away in the title.

    Oblaidon

    04/02/2010

    or maybe something like, "My love, the sea, is calling me" One style is to setup the reader to think one thing and switch it at the end.

    Teardrops commented on My Love, the sea, is calling me

    04-01-2010

    I think they used to call them sirens of the sea and they call to lure sailors into the rocks . Many a ship they wrecked so beware Who calls you from the sea . Great poem thanks for the read Marie

    Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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