In the one ear of the fisherman, who is all
One ear, the wood doves are singing a single song
Wallace Stevens
Washed up upon this simple shore, you find
as you were expected to, a shell as big as a house
to fit a tiny crab, who guards with quiet intent
his nacreous front door – and you are tentatively
inclined to knock, all too aware the private
nature of things to be about their own business
as it was a business of your own brought you
bare foot to the high water of a desolate coast
at the margins of your troubled mind –
this you know, yet still inclined to knock.
Day 2 ~ SHORE
Anmol is hosting The Tuesday Platform at The Imaginary Garden, looking at metaphors, quite perfectly in tune with my channeling of Wallace Stevens in Week One of NaPoWriMo 2019.
I am a peeping Tom when it comes to this kind of house. Nice write.
ReplyDeleteHaha! yes, I'd like to get a look inside myself.
DeleteA still sense of inquiry here~
ReplyDeleteSometimes we are so wrapped up in our own affairs, we forget to knock.
DeleteThis is truly mesmerizing, Kerry!❤️ The usage of metaphor in this poem is a thing of wonder and awe! Especially like; " bare foot to the high water of a desolate coast at the margins of your troubled mind."
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sanaa. I worked my metaphor a slightly different way. I'm glad to know it worked out.
DeleteI loved it, Kerry! Your craftsmanship shines through in this verse.
ReplyDeleteMany thanks, Anmol. I am trying to be crafty...
Delete"a shell as big as a house" ... My goodness, how intriguing that would be. I would be inclined to waltz right in. Are there signs of habitation?
ReplyDelete"as you were expected to" ... Isn't this interesting. Such a dreamy, surreal vibe. I would very much like to encounter this crabby guy. I'm picturing Sebastian and Ariel, first meeting. :)
But maybe the shell is tiny.. but big enough for its crab.
Delete:)
I love the thought of being barefoot on a desolate coast.
ReplyDeleteYes, me too...
DeleteThe imagery here is wonderful. I'm not sure I've told you that before, but I've only been to a beach once. I found the sea the most beautiful and imponent thing ever, I felt deeply touched. Anyway, that was the reason I couldn't write to your personal prompt today.
ReplyDeleteBut how wonderful to know the sea has touched your soul!
DeleteI love this giant house for a tiny crab. I too would like to look inside and see its tiny dishes and furniture. What a thought!
ReplyDeleteHaha! Yes, I wonder what may be inside.
DeleteI love the vibe and feeling in this.
ReplyDeleteThe words, the metaphors, the concrete imagery --- it's just lovely for the washing in the cradling effect, with just the proper amount of "crabby" discord.
It wouldn't be me without a dab of discord.
DeleteManors are learned when young and come almost spontaneously, eg. the knocking.
ReplyDelete..
"at the margins of your troubled mind" - that stands out to me, probably because I know the feeling well. Lovely poem, Kerry!
ReplyDeleteMost intriguing!
ReplyDeleteI'm fond of desolate coasts, and the mysteries of shells – and this has an extra layer of fairytale, a thing I'm also fond of.
Or perhaps it is a metaphor for reality?
DeleteThe parallels work so great!
ReplyDeleteI love the thought of knocking at a crab’s front door, Kerry! It's a bit Alice in Wonderland. When I was a child, the school took us to the beach one day and I found a hermit crab in its shell. I was tempted to take it home but couldn’t bear the thought of the crab on an airless coach after the exhilaration of the sea breeze.
ReplyDeleteThey are so fascinating - I understand the temptation.
DeleteI found the curiosity and decorum as much Elizabeth Bishop's, and the metaphor of knocking at the door in a "one-eared" fashion to me was to question the speaker's outerbeach state of mind, still knocking while waiting for the world (or its most loving representative) to invite it out to play.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Brendan, for really 'getting' it.
DeleteI often roam parts of the beach that are shell laden, where fishermen are along the beach and the sea delivers mystery with every wave. One's shell becomes another's home... I think that describes my thought process. My mind washes up on one shore thinking sweet poetry will arrive only to find a crab blocking the door. :)
ReplyDelete