Coast and Port

Freeform Poetry About My Homeland

Adam Ray Cronk

--

Whether feeling the wind beneath your wings
or inhaling the salty air,
the coast and port leave no retort,
too mystical to compare.

The grass and trees extend
to a point of sudden stop,
where sand and stone make their home
and critters hide in rocks.

The shore is lined with black & whites
and minerals of all kinds,
rushing waves advance for days,
then settle in due time.

Follow the planks stretched outward,
allotted spots and dots,
gulls aloft leave forget-me-nots,
but we’d rather they did not.

Massive metal constructs
you’d think should sink and never swim,
float and skim on a whim,
displaying pseudonyms.

Beyond the harbor bustle
there’s a different kind of noise,
nature sounds readily abound,
creatures of grace and poise.

Below the veil of worlds,
a life unlike our own,
take it slow when you go
and behold the unknown.

It’s a peaceful place to be
and begets pure serenity,
if you wish to see under the sea
then we’ll go, you and me.

Courtesy of Friendship, Maine.

--

--

Adam Ray Cronk

Poet & short story writer, lover of eldritch horror and anything Poe or Lovecraft | My writing ebbs and flows, from dark to light and back again.