Tuesday, August 11, 2009


Thanks to Sweetest in the Gale for this week's prompt, ocean. Please visit those who were inspired to weave words out of the mist at One single Impression.

“Now the Sirens have a still more fatal weapon than their song, namely their silence. And though admittedly such a thing never happened, it is still conceivable that someone might possibly have escaped from their singing; but from their silence certainly never.”

Franz Kafka


I am
drunk on her song:
bob like gulls
silver bream
angle in conference
carmine lips
part before leaving

bird woman!
who can resist
your sibilant guile
in a blind sun,
in windless calm?

one day I grow weary
of asylum
stick my thumb out
in spoken mist
a rusty trawler
lists his load
“Can you play anything?”
he asks.
“I can whistle.”

We motor
through midnight
chasing dawn

I arrive altogether empty
of souvenirs
Crusted with pink salt.


Jim said...

This is nice, Gabrielle. There is a lot of meaning here that I won't go. It reminds me a little of Janis Joplin, Me and Bobby MaGee, 'flagged the desiel down' for her escape. Janis had company (Bobby) WITH her.
I am lost on the pink salt. Pink?
Himalayan pink Salt?

Cloudia said...

Lovely & rich, Gabrielle.
Thank you!


Comfort Spiral

Anonymous said...

Some of these lines just jumped out at me, blossoming in my mind. I love the image of arriving empty of souvenirs... oh, and pink salt!

Sigh. This was wonderful.

SandyCarlson said...

Funny, but I thought of the Joplin song, too. Though I liked it better when Gordon Lightfoot did it. This is lovely and rich. I swear I hear the music.

Poetikat said...

Terpsichore was a muse, right? The Sirens come to mind as well. This is brilliant!


the walking man said...

i am always weary of asylum, let me be the thumb on your hand and let's just get on across that sea.

Well done Gabrielle.

Jeeves said...

Lovely read

Tumblewords: said...

I love the mythical/mystical quality of this piece - it sings to itself as well as to the reader. Nice!

zoya gautam said...

lovely ..

lissa said...

mystical, I like that it's more of a story than a poem, I am especially drawn to the last few lines

Tammie Lee said...

I feel as though I have gone on a journey, on the ocean, in my mind on the road and now crusted with wonderful pink salt. Who needs souvenirs ~
Your piece is deep, sensuous and pulls me into a deep quiet place, quite the mix.

Maithri said...

Your gift overwhelms me,

Much love dear poet,


Anonymous said...

very nice !

the words flow so beautifully and make a wonderful image..

you are very talented!

if said...

very nice!