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IceM
10-18-2011, 02:28 AM
The moon is white
and my arms are spread.
My chestnut hair,
sifting lazily in the coastal breeze,
smells of cheap watermelon conditioner and sea foam spray.
Gray outcrops jut from the Earth like bent knees,
a cluster of which formed our den.

It was here
our nights were spent.
The tides of your love washed upon my body,
dressing me in coats of salt,
my only clothing.
Above, the stars would twinkle like blinking newborns
as we,
peppered with clay and gravel,
would race to see whose face would first match the rising sun.

I yearn for your tender touch,
but now the tides are low.
Your subtle footprints ingrain my mind, yet
the imprints of others invade this beach.

A seagull swims in the distance, and
the star-speckled sea shimmers slowly
like the tears that burn my cheek.

Hawkman
10-18-2011, 07:55 PM
I rather enjoyed this poem IceM, it is atmospheric, evocative and poignant. The imagery is very effective and it has good rhythm. One thing though, S1 L4: "sifting lazily in the coastal breeze," Sifting isn't the right word to use here. Sifting essentially means to sieve, so the hair might sift the coastal breeze but not in the coastal breeze. Drifting might be better.

Good poem though.

Live and be well - H