Gray Waves

Gray waves

Gray waves
Of sadness and sorrow
Washing over the land,
Swallow me.

Elusive bubbles of peace
Popping in puddles,
Bursting like wishes,
Swallow me.

Rain or tears running down
Red-rimmed roof tiles,
Bare branches, and bent grass,
Swallow me.

A soul wants to sing and fly;
But a heart, tone-deaf and heavy,
Holding a dirge at daybreak,
Swallows me.

A forsaken bairn wails
In the hollow of a tree; an error,
A mistake, shadowless on a sunny day,
Swallows me.

Stormy weather

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
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17 Responses to Gray Waves

  1. Katalina4 says:

    Ahhhh, the winter is long and heavy even on the Med.
    I do believe, as spring returns, the soul and the heart will fly together again.
    Mistakes, errors – how they haunt.
    Exquisite, precise, poignant piece.


  2. john zande says:

    I hope the weather turns soon, and your mood livens. Grey is good sometimes, special times, but without the colours we can never dance 😉


    • emmylgant says:

      Sometimes the weather is suited to the mood. Either way, it’s not dancing music 😉
      The ground is saturated; the mountain drips incessantly; the Med ate a beach last week and is munching away on another.
      If only I could keep my feet warm!


  3. themodernidiot says:

    I love how “popping in puddles/Bursting like wishes” sounds. It’s like a hopeful distraction.
    The poem’s main sound is like the sound of waves, or like when you’re lulled into listening to a small boat gently bumping the dock it’s tied to. You’re hypnotized by the rhythm of the wave motion then all of a sudden there’s this “bing!” “bing! ” of a bell that breaks the rocking.
    Popping is such a great word for its sharpness, and followed by the low thump of the B in bursting? Fantastique.


  4. Such beautiful melancholy


  5. Bairn?
    Un mot Ecossais, UnElephant croit.
    C’est une influence dangereuse!
    Et le gris de la Med est beau toujours.
    Sans la violence du gris du Nord, bien sur.
    Et, comme toujors, ton poeme dit tout, parfaitement.


    • emmylgant says:

      Je ne sais pas d’ou cela vient, mais je suis sure que c’est dangereux!
      La Med est toujours belle, c’est vrai, mais c’est la pluie qui ne chante pas la meme chanson que mon ame.Tu comprends.


  6. PapaBear says:

    Ah, Emm, I can empathize with you. It’s been too gray, too cold, and for too long. Winter’s grip has been unrelenting and seems it will never end. Maybe it will warm by June????? Hugs…, and stay warm.


  7. nannus says:

    I hope that is just a poem, not actual depression 🙂


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