on the end of poetry


and it turns out water
is only water. it may slosh
and splash, undulate, crash
and okay, sparkle, shimmer
gleam gold. or gray
in shadow, green in light
right down to the rocks
it caresses, rounding
here, near the shore—
or out there, sucking sand.
see, the dog will flail and swim
kicking up white froth, biting hard
at each wave (they never cease)
long tongue licking water
long-legged deliberate splash.
(no creature more prosaic
than a dog) so here I sit, done
with words. why bother noting
it dazzles? the boats drone on
and past, in deeper blue
seagulls scatter

15 thoughts on “on the end of poetry”

          1. I just saw your comment now – sorry! I can’t imagine you not writing for 6 weeks. Being away as become more and more of a thing in my mind. So here I am, trying to make time to write again. And yes, the trip was amazing 🙂

            Liked by 2 people

  1. Apropros, Jennifer… I’ve shut down my blog… But you did find a way to reopen that door, with this pen. I wish you good tidings, and thanks for having traveled along . Peace and good writing ~ M


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