Scarborough (The Inevitable Sea)
by Paganini Jones
First here, was of course, the unchangeable sea
with her inevitable, changeling moods
reflecting the moon: the unravelling
silver outdrawn over waves as she waned,
to be skeined and balled back to bright wholeness;
each flow and ebb over eons, a beat
so slow that unheard they echo in stone.
Rocks raised to high cliffs fall back to the sea
each frost. One night of raw storm a hotel
fell block by huge block. By dawn it was gone.
Yet each summer, crowds come to play in the
sun: walk the pier, eat cockles, climb up to
the keep, watch the fishing fleet sail, and gaze
at the sea, the inevitable sea.
For the Sonnet Challenge - Place
Posted on 07/30/2011
Copyright © 2020 Paganini Jones
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Linda Fuller on 08/02/11 at 02:57 AM|
Very evocative of place, with some beautiful language and imagery - I like this quite a bit (although, when all is said and done, to me a sonnet will always involve iambic pentameter) :)