Placid as the night ocean

I haven’t had much time for poetry these last few days. There’s so much to do here and I’ve been immersed in a re-write. The hard work is done, just needs the fine-tuning and we’ll see if it works.

I couldn’t not visit the Oracle though. The second poem fits Sue Vincent’s photo prompt, which often corresponds to some scene in the WIP.

Screen Shot 2019-07-13 at 11.12.07

Why ask where home lies?

Look out on the night ocean,

listen to its wings beating,

see how green morning wakes,

slow and soft as peace falling, stars wheeling,

in the vast silence of the universe,

and we are there.

Screen Shot 2019-07-11 at 20.44.18.png

The lake is still, smooth as a mirror.

She watches a ship,

with billowing white sails,

through singing mistsβ€”

moon mother, water womanβ€”

until the sky runs red as berry juice.

 

Screen Shot 2019-07-13 at 15.30.30

 

 

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

34 thoughts on “Placid as the night ocean”

  1. We had more similar words in your second one, I think, but the mood of your first one and mine is similar–and with a question. Yours is lovely, and the second one matches the photo so well. I guess the Oracle looks at Sue’s prompts? πŸ™‚

    1. Thank you πŸ™‚ Yes, you’re right. It’s her style, the asking of questions then answering, even if only implicitly.
      I think Sue’s prompts are somehow linked up with my WIP and the Oracle is linked up to what’s uppermost in my mind, which doesn’t mean she isn’t also linked into Sue’s prompts too πŸ™‚

  2. Who knows where home lies
    We erased the boundaries long ago
    Only to be walled in by our fears
    Tired bodies searching for a place
    For the soul to rest
    Home is but a distant dream
    Heart crying for a soothing touch
    Who knows where home lies

    1. Is it home or a wanting,
      a yearning for something
      ultimately unattainable?
      Is home a place where stars fill the night garden
      where roses fill the days with scent?
      Is it you or some other
      who fits into the frame
      and leaves no white spaces?
      Is there such a place as home
      or is it hanging in the sky
      a star refusing to fall?

      1. Home is where now
        Ghosts roam the corridors
        And mind hullucinates
        Hearing voices where there is none
        Blank walls stare back
        As invisible images silently float
        No one hears you speak
        No one sees the tears
        Flowing dry
        Fie to the solace
        Home is where heart is
        Heart can go back to
        Home again

      2. Thank you so much.
        Please edit (your mastery of words are far superior to mine) and we can then post on our respective blogs. sites

      1. I can still remember nightmares I had about them, being chased round my great-grandma’s council house, down the passage and remembering at the last minute they can’t go up stairs.

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