Writing 201: Day 10: prompt, form and device are – Future, Sonnet, Chiasmus
Facing the Future
I thought I’d ask the sea to hear my story, bear my rhyme,
Take it as it comes, white caps crashing, splashing high,
Or merging, melding in smooth billowed joyousness,
No sea of tears to wallow in pettiness or bitterness.
The ocean has no time to hear self-pity,
Raging, calm, green-flickered, grey, or black,
Words fall unheard and all around the sound of ocean
Says: Hear my myriad magic voices. I don’t tell tales.
Breathless hush or rush of rage and storm tossed water,
East or West swirling dangerous quarreling harm.
Moon pulled tide will take all tales of difference
with indifference. Uncaring rise and fall and fall and rise.
Ocean bears me. Hears my myriad magic voices.
I don’t tell tales. I keep them deep in my forgetting.
I used some lines from a previous poem for this – a sort of long work in progress [After the Breakup]. I am happy to say I think this is much better. Hope you like it too.