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sea glass
this shore is supposed to be clean
but waste cuts through the sand.
broken bottles are scattered,
recalling abandoned intentions.
the shards glint in the sun
as if selling some innocent value,
a second-hand use made of fractures -
listen, don´t mind the loud edges.
waves swallow them
into their steady sound.
i wonder if there is a time
when sea glass appears on the beach,
serene in its beauty
all muted and smooth.
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I rather think that all my discarded bottles are remembering raucous, happy barbecues with family, psychedelic rock karaoke, birthday cakes and celebrations of love.
There is always beauty in the stories of the broken. In addition, a piece of glass may enter the human body and remain there without any fear of rejection -- we embrace fragments but do not assume them to be part of ourselves, merely passengers.
It could be worse
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(12-10-2017, 06:46 AM)vagabond Wrote: sea glass
this shore is supposed to be clean
but waste cuts the landscape
broken bottles are crying
for all the failed motives
the shards glint in the sun
trying to sell some innocent value
a second-hand use made of cracks
nevermind the loud edges
some are swallowed by waves
and i wonder if there is a time
when sea glass appears on the beach
serene in its beauty
all muted and smooth
Hi Vagabond
You have keeper here, without any doubt, I have read this several times thinking of ways it could be changed but I don't really have anything that will improve it, you have some excellent lines, the self resale made me think of childhood taking pop bottles to the shops for sweet money, the last stanza made me think of Cornish beaches and my wife stooping to pick up a piece of pink sea glass she later used in a collage. Thank you for a delightful read. Keith
If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
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(12-10-2017, 08:25 AM)Leanne Wrote:
I rather think that all my discarded bottles are remembering raucous, happy barbecues with family, psychedelic rock karaoke, birthday cakes and celebrations of love.
There is always beauty in the stories of the broken. In addition, a piece of glass may enter the human body and remain there without any fear of rejection -- we embrace fragments but do not assume them to be part of ourselves, merely passengers.
hi leanne, thanks for your comment.
i wonder where that foto was taken, how is there so much glass shards but no other waste washed up on the beach?
as for those interior shards: you´re right ignoring sometimes is better than digging, depends on where they´re situated.
(12-10-2017, 08:04 PM)Keith Wrote: (12-10-2017, 06:46 AM)vagabond Wrote: sea glass
this shore is supposed to be clean
but waste cuts the landscape
broken bottles are crying
for all the failed motives
the shards glint in the sun
trying to sell some innocent value
a second-hand use made of cracks
nevermind the loud edges
some are swallowed by waves
and i wonder if there is a time
when sea glass appears on the beach
serene in its beauty
all muted and smooth
Hi Vagabond
You have keeper here, without any doubt, I have read this several times thinking of ways it could be changed but I don't really have anything that will improve it, you have some excellent lines, the self resale made me think of childhood taking pop bottles to the shops for sweet money, the last stanza made me think of Cornish beaches and my wife stooping to pick up a piece of pink sea glass she later used in a collage. Thank you for a delightful read. Keith
hi keith, thank you, but maybe you saw the picture in leanne´s comment first and that biased your impression positively?
the poem is wrapped around nibbed´s muted sea glass. i am not really happy with several of my lines.. tried a few other versions but none just what i wanted.
you´re right, shem. it isn´t, that much.
...
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(12-10-2017, 09:23 PM)vagabond Wrote: hi leanne, thanks for your comment.
i wonder where that foto was taken, how is there so much glass shards but no other waste washed up on the beach?
as for those interior shards: you´re right ignoring sometimes is better than digging, depends on where they´re situated.
It's in Russia, near Vladivostok -- funny you should mention no other waste -- the site used to be a rubbish tip for vodka bottles and broken porcelain in the Soviet days, and this was what nature made of it. Sea glass has endless metaphors attached.
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one more argument for having glass bottles instead of plastic ones ground up in the oceans 
and after a while you can even go swimming without sandals again.
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It is a lovely piece, Vaga. The only line that's a miss for me is L4 -- did the motives fail or did the actions fail the motives? I'd reword it for clarity.
I like the idea of shared poetry. We all riff off each other anyway -- no poetry comes to life in a vacuum.
Thanks for sharing,
Lizzie
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sea glass
this shore is supposed to be clean
but waste cuts the landscape
broken bottles are crying
for all the failed motives this made me think of those messages in bottles that never made it
the shards glint in the sun
trying to sell some innocent value
a second-hand use made of cracks this L seems harsh in comparison to the rest of the poem
nevermind the loud edges
some are swallowed by waves
and i wonder if there is a time
when sea glass appears on the beach
serene in its beauty
all muted and smooth
Hi vagabond. What a blessing it was to read your beautiful poem. It's hard for me to find anything wrong with it, especially since now I am quite biased.
Perhaps it is the lack of any reference to tints, shades, or hues that makes you feel it's not all the way there yet? Thank you for using a phrase from my poem. That was very nice of you.
-nibbed
there's always a better reason to love
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Lizzie, thanks for commenting and yes, L4 is especially troublesome. i tried an edit.
Nibbed, i am glad you liked it, in parts. and thanks again.
...
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Oooooo, I like the revision. Specifically, I appreciate the turn in L8 to address the reader directly. I like expanding the use of sound -- a nice subversion of the expected reliance on the visual. Also a nice setup for the contrast in the last line with muted.
Cool beans. 
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