Shells
The boy is taking the shore home,
One shell at a time, putting them
In his red bucket, not thinking
Of the rest of the world, caring
Only for the task he has set.
A woman’s voice, he wipes the sand
From his chubby fingers, toddles
Off with his precious hoard. He leaves
No trace behind, he only took
A few in the great scheme of things.
There’s another tide gathering,
You can taste it, hear it, feel it.
Soon it will break, refill the shore,
Each wave will heap shell upon shell,
Each a treasure, in its own way.
Derek Ross.
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Very evocative, Derek! So many ways that your message resonates. One way it struck me was remembering the story of King Canute.
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Thank you D’Arcy! Never thought about King Canute! 🤗
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I particularly like the undercurrent of complexity in this poem.
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Thanks Liz. I was thinking of refugees at the time, believe if of not
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I do believe it! I thought there was something dark hovering over the scene.
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What a lovely read, dear poet. I love the imagery.
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Thank you Anita, much appreciated 🤗
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It is actually very deep. There is so much more to the words than meets the eye. It does what a poem should do, makes you think.
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Thanking you, bad case of thinking too much!
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That sounds a bit cheeky 😱 I meant I’m the one who thinks to much!! 🫢
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A beautiful poem which bring back memories of childhood.
Thank you
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