Blood of the dawn

The sea was here
In all the blood the dawn had shed
Before we lived, ongoing waves
Will be there after, you and me were
Only walking by the shore at times
Like so many have done and will do.

The red waves gave birth
To what we remember
And will do so. Yet, now I am alone
The murmur of the earth is just for me.
In this hour in this moment
Time has washed itself before my feet

And rinsed other memories of you
And a breeze has cleared the air. To the sea
There is no change that I’m aware of.

Photo contest

I am taking part in a photo contest. If you like this photo enough, please vote for it: photo contest .

Thank you  🙂

Afloat

Waiting to wake up I lived in numbness,
All was flowing by me and through me
As I drifted on in a sea, face down.

No shore would have me, the bright beaches
Were too shallow, the lovely fjords too cold.

Tidal waves crushed my bones,
Numbness, out of reach, I waited
In a dense black mist of knowing
This is being alone.

I think that I woke up now
But I’m not sure. I still taste
The salt of the sea.

Love

A rage, a twister coming out of the blue sky
But based on what, but made of what? It’s only air,
This devastation from the clouds, heaven’s revenge,
Such is your love. And I can’t shelter anywhere.

A tidal wave to flood the lonely beach, my skin
Was waiting for your touch and I go down once more
As we unite, my hair get’s tangled in your grip.
Such is your love. A twister coming to the shore.

And now the water has calmed down, will you be gone?
Or will you stay? But based on what? I’m always here
In storm and quiet, feel my longing, feel my loins.
Such is my love. And I can feel that you are near.

We move with tides, you: flood and silence inside me,
A raging storm becomes a quiet breeze from sea.

Sea shells

A million stars fell on the beach,
Each one a thought that never made it,
Moments, faded into dense eternity.

You say: The water is assembling now,
The sky is trembling. It was noticed, all of it.
We won’t live to see results, but let it be this way.

Let’s walk along the shore, my hand in yours,
Go side by side, go far away, before
The sea will find us here where none can stay.

Let’s fade together and become a shell. A star.
A thought escaping from the rising tide. Farewell.

Selfie

Roads book 1 is out!

 

My third poetry anthology is out!  Roads book 1 is published by Winter Goose Publishers, just like Veritas and Amor.

Roads book 1  🙂

Change

A firm, fast raising of the sea, the beach
Now changing, heavy waves come rolling by,
Above it black and torment in the sky:
I’m scared, as nothing looks the same to me.

A greater power comes to mingle with my life,
A whirling dance of yellow-orange leaves
Invites me to go far from my believes.
From now on there shall be no gravity.

A grain of sand contains all of the world
And billions of them wash away unseen.
I’m lifted going where I’ve never been,
In noise and turmoil all is lost on Earth.

We are at ease for just so many days.
Reality is catching up once more,
Revealing life won’t be so like before
When beaches waited for our children’s birth.

Ina

Stranger on a shore

I went to a strange shore to swim
like I did so often at home.
The night came in gold and in red.

It seemed what I was looking for.
Shells broke underneath my feet.
I watched the green lighting sea.

Stars were replying a message to Earth.
I felt home for many reasons that night,
and swam away in familiar waves.

Ina

Concert

 

I sing flat on empty beaches when I’m scared
and hum there when everything seems alright;
it’s my private concerto for fright and for joy,
not meant for anyone else to be heard.

Sometimes a seagull joins in for a while
or the rain is singing refrains with the bird.
On misty days, it’s the monotone horn
setting the tune for the song.

The sea as reliable baritone, old and grumpy,
though sometimes cheerful his voice.
And deaf shells and washed ashore jelly fish
are our private audience and don’t care.

I dare to make fun of Euterpe there
before we take turns and I listen
to the best music ever by waves,
to the song of beaches and seas.

I’m a singer for deaf ears only
on a deserted flat beach.
No one hears but the baritone sea
and dying jelly fish. And me.

Ina

Devastated

When she, in storm and spring-tide
stretches her arms,
empties her guts,
alters the beach
in a sizzling cruel crescendo;

when she vomits, foams,
wreaking destruction over land,
pouring her salty tears,
it’s then I do love her the most:

sea, demented granny, not yet amortized, fighting,
holding on to life,
tearing up all she encounters,
spitting ensis, throwing crab onto the sand,
she shows her dirty teeth
(the driftwood that is splintering)

and crying whales are washed onto the shallows.
She fights her demons like a lioness.

Then wind clams up and all falls silent, she nourishes her wounds
and quietly returns to far and silent grounds.

This is my translation of Verrinneweerd, the poem I wrote for the poetry contest of the event Dichter bij Zee that was organized here, Terschelling. It lost a bit of rhyme in translation. Yesterday evening the poem wan (a shared) first prize. 🙂 Being on stage is always a bit scary, but it went well.

Verrinneweerd

Als zij bij storm en springtij
haar armen strekt,
haar darmen leegt,
het strand verandert
in een sissend wreed crescendo;

als ze kotst en schuimt,
verderf zaait over land,
haar zilte tranen stort,
dan houd ik nog het meest van haar:

zee, demente oma, nog niet afgeschreven, strijdend,
hangend aan het leven,
verscheurt al wat zij tegenkomt,
spuugt ensis uit en smijt krab op het zand,
laat haar vuile tanden zien
(het wrakhout dat versplintert)

en grienden stranden huilend op het wad.
Zij vecht als een leeuwin tegen haar demonen.

Dan zwijgt de wind en al valt stil en koestert zij haar wonden
en keert zij zwijgend terug naar verre, stille gronden.

The tide turning

When the tide was almost turning, waves paused,
all seemed on hold. The clouds stopped moving on,
and we had time to find out what had caused
the gap between us, as so much had gone.
We stood there, not in water, not on land;
a seagull awaited our decision.

There was no sound, no movement on the strand.
What were we both trying to envision?
Then there it was: this lightning struck above.
The waves began to move up on the beach,
our feet got wet, and from thereof
we had each other: maybe this was love.

Free

 

 

My home is sand and water and your thought,
to dwell in them is how I feel at home,
from shoreline towards dune I walk and roam.

A prisoner maybe I am, and caught
by promises of love and making home
though free I feel, like sea waves topped with foam.

You could not keep me here if this was not
what I had wished for, what it was I sought,
I would not stay and live on silty loam
if this was not the place that I call home.

Ina

Water

There are sailors who panick in the middle of oceans
where life seems small and insignificant.

No birds anymore to remind them of solid ground.
The horizon never gets nearer.

There are sailors going mad when they realize
the bottoms of ships are just a few inches thick.

Beneath them is darkness well beyond measure deep into the Earth,
above them with staring blackness the whole universe watching.

Some even jump ship because there is no greater fear
than being lost on a rolling vessel never to reach port.

The only way to escape is the embrace of the waves,
to feel part of the world minutes before drowning.

 

Ina

Embracement

Remember standing here where the country ends in sea,
your arm was on my shoulder,
but where you here?
Was it so?
Or
was it wind,
blowing a whisper,
comforting me as an embrace?
Sea ends here where land begins, that is what I remember.
A memory is all, a sea gulls’ cry, the smell of tar:
Not much I have to reconstruct you with,
but I do feel the hand now resting
and I know it is you again
like every time
I’m here.
So
is it true
that you where here?
Your arm was on my shoulder
and the smell of tar came from your ship
that sailed away so long ago
leaving me with memories
of better days we
had.

Ina

Beach

the waves tell me stories
about far away places
while my footprints are fading
while my life comes at end
the waves will keep moving
taking my story
to far away places
in endless whisper
for those who can hear

Ina

The sea is my mother

With waves her arms the sea is my mother,
she rocks me slowly when I am a child,
when I disobey her her senses go wild
and she keeps me away from the world.

When I love, my mother approaches
on the beach she observes and approves,
when we hug, she reclines in her moves
to leave us alone during neap tide and ebb.

With my children about to be born,
she hugged me tender and whispered a name,
every time as I called her, she came
giving strength in the rhythm she rocked me.

When I die I shall walk through the waves
finding arms that for ever will hold me
as my mother is always the sea
always there to look after me well.

Ina

New page: photo’s of the sea

https://poetryfromthesea.wordpress.com/photosoftheseaterschellingbyina/

The Shoreline – Guest writer Walter

Have you ever said goodbye
To someone sailing?
Watched as they waved from above
You on the ground firmly
They slowly drifting away?
At first the loss is profound
Romantic
Impenetrable
But as your friend recedes
It is pretty
It is simple
And it is
Unambiguous.
You walk away
Taking glimpses over your shoulder
The ship a tiny dot on the horizon
Then gone.
Leaving you with a plain truth.

It is when the clothes, a perfume bottle, a book
Wash ashore
With a quiet tide
That you can begin to collect yourself.
Walk inland.
The cuff of your pant
The hem of your skirt
Wet with memory
You
Wipe your feet of sand.
Knowing there will always be the residue of the sea
On your ankles.

Written by Walter

WalterKitty’sDiary

Learning to live

Desire to live on in spite
comes from walking near the sea,
from that overwhelming scent
of seaweed, tar and salt,
and from the movement of the waves.
Sea is the womb
where good thoughts grow.

So many lives and deaths
already passed this shore,
new starts always emerged
out of the deep dark nothing.
Giving up is easy, the sea indifferent;
to beat the undertow
means more to me perhaps.

I want to see the beige clouds
before rain, the grey skies after,
and remain in spite of all.
A proper sea will challenge every beach,
will never give up trying
to leave some proof of her attempts
behind in shells. In love. In courage before dying.

Ina

A whisper

It seems so easily to find
all that you mean to me right here
where surf and tide rule over mind,
the place we said our last goodbye.
You live in shells. In murmurations
many birds move on, towards you
but not sure of their direction.

A whisper comes from over sea
with every wave rolling ashore.
It is your voice. In every sigh,
you come to me to be on land.
You’re more and more a part of me,
then ebb away so easily.
You wash before me on the beach.

You stay at distance, out of reach,
you tease, as if you do not want
to touch my sand. You are
a whisper that with every wave
becomes more part of me. It seems
so easily from where I stand
until the tide is turning.

Ina

On the beach

Fading shadows mean you are forgotten by the Sun my friend,
your footsteps blown away by a North Western storm,
the seagull cries above your absence, overrules your faint goodbye
that might have lingered on a calmer day,
only what you said before remains between us
to live on a while before that too is gone.
This beach is now deserted.

New clouds, new dangers may take over.
New shadows chase me over land. I stand alone here on this isle,
searching for our truth in the seabird’s silent stare
and for a moment I do see you, a reflection in its eye:
you turn away from me. Yes we are through
and will be strangers from now on.
I know and watch the seabird fly over the greyish waves. The end.

Ina

Worth the walk

What did I try to find:
the beach was wet and empty sand,
maybe a bottle washed ashore,
a note perhaps inside,
or a feather, shells,
the footsteps of a child?

I did not find any of those.
Today I found a thought
that got me through the day,
unsought, it came in with the tide,
a treasure I could not hold in my hand,
it was a notion that this life was good.

Ina

Where seas meet

There is a place where waves of two seas meet,
to blend the water of their different shades,
the blue ones barging in from Britain’s shores,
embrace the foam of the grey Wadden Sea.

A moment the two seas are in a dance,
the strong waves from the North Sea found their home
where Wadden Sea has waited all along,
a moment they are one, and all is calm.

It’s only then they are together,
before the North Sea dies in lover’s arms.
The Wadden Sea waits for the next high tide
in just twelve hours, she must be prepared.

I wrote this after reading “Heartbeat” by BelfastDavid
Ina

Heartbeat – by guest writer David Agnew (BelfastDavid)

BelfastDavid

“Did you know” he said
“that each sea
has a different heartbeat.”

And suddenly
some of the pieces
which make up
the jigsaw
of my life
fell into place.

From Portrush Strand
by the White Rocks
on the northern coast of Ireland
where the Atlantic arrives
in long rolling waves
with a heartbeat that is steady,
regular and oh so powerful.

To Cultra village
on the east coast
where the Irish Sea
has a more staccato beat;
shorter waves which can
manifest on the shore in ripples.

To Whitby
on the east coast of England
where the North Sea
seems to swirl
to an intermittent rhythm,
sometimes short,
sometimes long
but with an emphasis
on every seventh beat.

These are the places that I go
when I have a need
to ease my soul;
let my heartbeat
mirror that
of the ocean,
restore to me
a sense of purpose
and of calm.

Horizon Line by guest writer and artist David F. Barker

There is no love on those horizon lines,
nor in the sight of ships
tacking their finite courses to
oblivion, spilling me
outside.

So who is it waiting
in the rain, feels its spots
cool on their skin, can smell
its sweet aroma
off the hard hot road, stretching away
around the lonely coast?

poem and picture © copyright David F. Barker 2012

Listen now

My whispers follow the waves over sea
as they humbly return where they came from,
taking my thoughts and my hopes far from me.
Can you hear what I said where you are now?

Hear the grumbling grouse of the sea over there
listen to all I was trying to say
after our meaning together it’s fair.
Whispers are all that remain of our love.

by Ina

Guest writer Fred Whitehead: Making a sail

systematically
I remove the sutures that
have kept my guts from falling
onto the trampled field

that links one invisible border
to the next and the next
on, like that
to the sea

I will use them to marry the
patches I have torn
from the banners of
lost battalions

eventually I will have a sheet
large enough to capture the wind
then, with my despair stowed
in a trunk , I will chart a course
for blue water and send
all of those years to the bottom
of some ocean trench

if doves find me
at the rail, wondering about it all
I will take from them whatever
branch they offer

and turn the wheel hard
towards home

Fred Whitehead's blog

Sea

I stood before a tempest sea once more,
she should be older then but seemed the same,
her waves rolled near my feet as times before
and loud she called me by my proper name.

She smiled at me when rays of sunlight shone,
her comfort whispers told me I should stay
in life to do what needed to be done,
she often told me I should go my way.

I could not join her, swim away and go
and leave all matters that I want to part
with every movement of the undertow
a way from shore into a wanted start.

Sea would not have my company that day,
withdrew in low tide and in silent grey.

(by Ina)

Guest writer David Francis Barker – “Sea Wall”

Poem ‘Sea Wall’
by dfb

The Wash, as seen looking west from Heacham, in Norfolk, just south of Hunstanton (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Sea Wall

Stand and look from here,
you can see the earth’s curve,
a sea-levelled land
bereft of its mother.

Shells we have found
while the silt blew away,
powdered by droughts
and the pitiless wind.

Stand here with me
at the high spring tide—
you know the stark sea
will swell all over this again.

poem © copyright df barker 2012