Monday, April 21, 2008

NaPoWriMo 21

(For those not familiar, Singing Beach is an actual Massachusetts beach where the sand supposedly "sings.")


Singing Beach

The beach has its own frequency—
the sand squeaks when walked upon.

We amble along this whistling
for hours, for years, without speaking.

We walk even further to where our silence
pushes the sand then takes it back,

our weight too heavy to sustain us.
We sink, sucked in by wetness

listening to the acoustics of shells,
those tiny ears being crushed underfoot.

Let’s think about the air under us
and never give it a name.

Let’s call it love and never hear
the same note twice.

6 comments:

Catherine said...

I really love the way this one ends up

pepektheassassin said...

Me, too. A very good poem. If you ever get out to the salt flats in Utah, when you walk across them you sorta sink down, and each step makes a crackling noise, I guess salt crystals breaking and singing all the way down to water. I never thought to write a poem about it though, and now you have!

January said...

Thanks Pepek and Catherine.

Desperate times call for desperate mesaures. I'd write about the opening of a store if I could get another NaPo poem out of it. In other words, I'm coming up empty for subject matter.

Just a little over a week left!

Catherine said...

Jan, does your newspaper have a science column? I find some fascinating inspiration there at times

evie said...

this poem doesn't sound like a "desperate" one, jan. i, on the other hand, am really starting to feel the days of desperate poems are upon me...

Greyscale Territory said...

Singing sands are fascinating.Perhaps its a kind of squeek, but it could be a slightly bristly note.

Intereseting write!

Gemma

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