Friday, September 23, 2005

The Lake Shore

Here's one I wrote a while back (as are all of these), with a more Robert Frost sort of theme.

The Lake Shore

The shore of the lake lies rocky and bare
in the dry cold air of January
strands of brown straw grass
loosely matted along the shore
and bullrushes bent in a reluctant acquiescence
to a persistent wind
a knarled tree juts out amongst grayed boulders
devoid of skin and leaves
with endless fingers reaching upward
grasping desperately at a blue, cotton sky

The lake itself itself is a shimmering plate of glass
reflecting the brilliant rays of a midday sun
thick shore ice thins toward the center
and under the icy clear water
rests magical Excalibur
waiting for Arthur to retrieve her
and revive again the glory
of glorious Camelot

And not far from the rocky shore
lies a forelorn black jogging shoe
frozen firmly in a crystalline bedding
awaiting eagerly the spring thaws
when it will set sail again
to lands unknown
and to perhaps other distant shores


Blogger willowtree said...

How does someone lose a shoe?

That poem was new englandy.

I like Frost. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening is my favorite.

I remember studying that poem. The teacher said he thought it was about contemplating suicide.

I thought that was the most beautiful and depressing thing I had heard until that point. So I think I agreed with him.

12:29 PM  
Blogger Frank said...

Now that you mention it, it is kind of New Englandy!

That Frost poem definitely has a whole lot goin' on under the surface; it's saying some deep truths in a very plain and direct way. I think I was laughed at when I told a friend I liked Frost; apparently too old fashioned. But stuff like that stands the tests of time, while all this yelling, slam business doesn't match up, in my view (although, to his credit, this guy wasn't a slam poet).

9:54 PM  

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