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.