Sunday V

[mfwilkie]

Haze runs out to the horizon,
dilutes the sky-leaves, creates
an ocean almost colorless, cold
in the imagination.

The spell of the moon moves breakers
in to even out the tides with a warmth
that surprises my ankles, makes me wish
my hands had hold of the far end of the
fishermen's net, foam slipping over my
shoulders, the force of waves thrilling
my waist in real time.

[Marion Poirier]

I like the imagery in this one, Maggie - very strong.
I'll give it a try - want to see last stanza broken
into(at least) two sentences. You probably know
by now that I prefer sentences not as long. I call
them run-on regardless of text-book definitions.
Very nice all the same.

M

Haze runs out to the horizon,
dilutes the sky-leaves, creates
an ocean almost colorless, cold
in the imagination.

The spell of the moon moves breakers
in to even out the tides with a warmth
that surprises my ankles. It makes me wish
my hands had hold of the far end of the
fishermen's net, foam slipping over my
shoulders, the force of waves thrilling
my waist in real time.

[Ron Wallace (Scotshawk)]

Maggie, love the tone and feel of this poem, here's how I would've said it, but as we've discussed before, all that means is this would be my take. You'll know what's best for you. Regardless I think it's excellent. Ron

A haze runs out to the horizon,
dilutes the sky-leaves, createsing
an ocean almost colorless, cold
in the imagination.

The spell of The moon's spell moves breakers
in to even out the tides with a warmth
that surprises my ankles, makes me wish
my hands had hold of the far end of the a
fishermen's net, foam slipping over my
shoulders, the force of waves thrilling
my waist in real time.

[Jarlsbane - Michael Ray Cotner]

hey mags... I tend to agree with Ron on a couple of things.. one being "the moon's spell" although I would replace spell with magic for better alliteration... the other is the deletion of "in real time" as I think this is extraneous to the piece...

What about a descriptor for 'haze' ? how about murky, milky, dusky etc at the opening...

Dusky haze runs out to the horizon,
dilutes both sky and leaves, creating
an ocean colorless, cold
in the imagination.

The moon's magic moves breakers in
evening out the tides with a warmth
that surprises my ankles, makes me wish
my hands had hold of the far end of the
fishermen's net, foam slipping over my
shoulders, the force of waves
thrilling my waist rythmically. -- I added 'rythmically' just incase you still felt the need to end this other than with waist...

Thanks for letting me play! -jarls