Tide Lines

red tide a

You visit me when the rains come.
Sliding in through the rising torrents
beating my windows, in the water
swirling around my ankles.

You can’t help yourself.
There’s something about crushing
waves that are a part of you which make
her eat sand
another’s eyes red from stinging salt water
one more her heart aching from being crashed into again and again.

Your wake leaves behind brown tide
lines with dirty foam, crushed shells,
sand dollars in pieces.

~Pamela

Blue Black

What he couldn’t say in
words he still said with his
lips, hovering over her heart
pounding out rhythms in
E C D E F E C.

He skimmed near closed
eyelids that dreamt in liquid blue-
he and she bathed in midnight,
feeling their way along pebbled shores,
staying far from the warmth and false
security of sandbars, away from the
blue black where they once treaded
ice water, going under when swells
broke over them.

He toyed near ears
open, waiting for
exhalations of loving
breath filled with abandon,
minus “ment.”

He searched her intently,
diving then coming up for
air, thinking he’d find the
solace he sought, believing
she secreted away his
talisman somewhere in her
deep curves and gentle
illumination, that she held an
amulet to heal his blue black.

He realized too late she did not
hide the magical powers he
sought to soothe him, to bind
the darkness that plagued
him, bruised him, tormented him.

He pulled away seeking, travelling
past the pebbled beach’s gleam and
sandbars warm till he caught a wave,
riding the blue black till he became no
more than a dark spot on the horizon.

© Pamela Rossow

Stars

If you want to see the stars you must go out into the country where there are no lights to dim them. But if you really want to see the stars then you must be out in the middle of the ocean. Then you can see them as the sailors and navigators saw them in the days when stars were known as very few people know them now.


~Madeleine L’Engle, Arm of the Starfish

Summer

Summer exhales long and slow.  Breath perfumed with jasmine and honeysuckle breezes over me.  She orchestrates the jaunting chorus of ice-cream trucks and children’s laughter mingled with the ocean’s sighs.  She grabs my hand and slows my pace to a languid stroll.  I inhale the fragrance of pine needles blanketing concrete.  The loud buzzing of Cicada is welcome white noise.  Summer works deftly overhead mixing humidity and sunshine with generous heaps of azure.  Sprinkling in some electric zigzags and swarthy scowls.  The forecast:  smiling sun with a chance of growling gray. 

© Pamela A. Rossow

Friday Moment

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. Photos – no words – capturing moments from the week. Simple, special, extraordinary moments. Moments you want to pause, savour and remember. “This Moment” is a ritual found on  Life inspired by the Wee Man which I then kidnapped from Almost there by Sarah-Jane and snagged from Alejandro.

This Friday Moment(s)

{this moment} – A Friday ritual. Photos – no words – capturing  moments from my week. Simple, special extraordinary moments ( I know, I know.  I’m a rebel.  Couldn’t pick just one this week!  Too many beautiful children in my life!)

 

 

Moments I want to pause, savor, remember.

This moment is a ritual I found on life inspired by the Wee Man adopted from SouleMama and shared by Sarah – Jane.

Check out their blogs…. They are very interesting and inspirational to read, and if you are moved too, please leave a link to your Moments in the comment box below :-)