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Floating Boats
by Richard ColinsonThe suburb speaks of childhoods
Filled with leafy adventures in the woods
And bike rides along the faded sea front
Confidence bestowed by
The proud views of the bay
Down on the foreshore
I stand and listen to the sea churn the pebbles
That grinding in the drawing back of a wave
And I watch the seagulls above
Towering up their circling stacks
Making the scene three-dimensional
As I drink in the sight of the bay
Soft and wide, my eye roaming
From tip to tip, and to the heavy clouds
Circling up around themselves
It all stops
Even the traffic on the road is still
And the children's voices no longer travel
The headlands bend to meet in the centre
And the boats rise up to meet me
In a mingling of sea and land
As perspective is abandoned
And I dissolve into the flattened world
Of a naive painting 02/13/2010 Author's Note: A little piece of whimsy apropos of absolutely nothing. It probably makes more sense if you're familiar with Alfred Wallis http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alfred_Wallis
Posted on 02/13/2010
Copyright © 2024 Richard Colinson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 02/14/10 at 07:39 PM It is amazing how many moments in life, so vividly three-dimensional, are reduced to flat and rather lifeless two-dimensional images such as we'd find in the more banal of wall calendars or the front of a cheap picture postcard...what is interesting about Wallis' work is that he manages to make the pictures look deliberately flat, while also giving them this fantastical air of otherworldliness...which really, is a feeling inherent in so many memory flashbacks...surreal, lacking their original vitality, but nevertheless, still drawing us in. |
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