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Sunday, November 18, 2012

Squall

Squall - Andrew Wyeth - 1986



Gray rolling over swelling blue.
White foam cresting, dropping;
slapping the blue over and over.

The sky darkening quickly
a smokey gray, a dirty dray,
bullet gray and now charcoal.

Winds swirl my hair every which way.
My scalp actually pains under pressure.
Waves whack shoreline rocks repeatedly.

Each tide washes higher- a mist rises over me.
My face wet, my lips taste of salt. 
I lean now with the wind.

The water, darker now
seemingly has swallowed the sky;
the two joined in force- rolling in.




Michael A. Wells

The Mag



11 comments:

  1. S F Giants?
    You'll never get away, Buster, posing...
    As Buster Posey. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  2. S F Giants?
    You'll never get away, Buster, posing...
    As Buster Posey. :-)

    ReplyDelete
  3. Oh delicious...this one was really fun to read out loud...

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  4. I was in the middle of the storm reading this! Great!

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  5. When I arrived at the phrase about leaning in the wind, I was leaning too. I love how you captured of the developing storm here, Michael. Your phrasing is so sensual. Thank you for sharing.

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  6. Can feel the winds blowing, the salt on my lips as I read your poem. Great capture!

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  7. There's nothing quite like a good storm and a rough sea. Nicely written.

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  8. What a nice flow this has...rather like the sea, in fact.

    Good one!

    =)

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  9. seemingly has swallowed the sky

    Yes, I have stood upon the shore, with approaching storm and witnessed this!

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  10. Oh good stuff! Understand the sea and sky thing.

    Anna :o]

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  11. A vivid description. Lovely!

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