Beached
by Lynette N Bat-Abba
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Water Queen
surrounded by waving prairie grass
with shorelines of strawberries
steel masts and line
where she pins cotton sheets and waits
for the wind
to carry her message
They are white, but not hung in surrender
just a reminder
to sit in harbor
while repairs are made
courses charted
rehearsing the litany
redressing the wrongs, rewriting the future.
Her crew
has not capabilities for sailing now
Her mind too tired to launch alone
Seas have weathered her face
left permanent creases
in a gown once made of silk
Does she know
the captain, so beloved
who sleeps at the helm
without touching the wheel
forgetting multiple hulls
are parallel to each other
"Admiration," she said,
"means nothing without touching
keel to the water."
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| Reviewed by Amor Sabor |
8/23/2012 |
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Phenomenal work, Lynette. Your imagery is beyond the verses and rife with the mental exercise transcended by that beauty of the written word.
Amor |
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| Reviewed by Charlie |
5/16/2010 |
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Dear Lynette. There are so many echoes of famous lines and characters in here, but mostly this reminds me of some of Willa Cather's work. There's the sense of womanly pioneer strength in it.
I see this woman seated in prairie grass, watching her sheets billow, and dreaming. Sail on... sail on. --Charlie |
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| Reviewed by C. McGovern-Bowen |
5/14/2010 |
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keep on rewriting that future, lynette & never surrender!
cg |
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| Reviewed by richard cederberg |
5/12/2010 |
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Beautiful imagery. I do enjoy how you think with your heart. The true gist, of course, is yours Lynnie, but the smell of your creation here reminds me of the Heimdall and of one of my fanciful heros, Captain Olaf Amundsen.
"who sleeps at the helm
without touching the wheel" touches me as a kind of strong faith that complains at times, and intellectualizes incessantly, but invariably, when it actually comes down to it, never wavers, even when everything is Beyond Understanding. Blessings ... r
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| Reviewed by Paul Judges |
5/12/2010 |
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| Well done, Lynette |
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| Reviewed by Regis Auffray |
5/11/2010 |
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surrounded by waving prairie grass
with shorelines of strawberries
steel masts and line
where she pins cotton sheets and waits
for the wind
You cannot know how much these images bring back vivid memories of my childhood on the prairies of northern Alberta... ...My mom hanging clothers on the line outside, the wild strawberries of June, the grass like waves in the wind. It seems almost eerie to me. Of course I realize that your poem is about much more. You write fine poetry, Lynnie. Thank you for sharing it. Love and best wishes,
Regis |
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