Twists of feminine
spayed from virgin beds
taken as slaves
briny objects
of lust and remembrance
to line window sills
strut garden runways
far from the rhythm
and slosh, the churning
womb of sand, landlocked
as a milk-wagon horse
cold as any stone
Tess Kincaid
June, 2011
I have no idea what this means, but the sound and imagery make it so delicious, so wonderful, that I don't care!
ReplyDeleteI feel for the shell! Beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely stunning I love the way you write! I was just looking at this image thinking what am I going to do with this shell lol
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful, stirs longing for my sea bed! Waves splashing their final breath about my toes. Beautiful shell and beautiful words!
ReplyDeleteWomb of Sand! Wow! Love that!
ReplyDeleteMilk wagon- and a half draft, Thanks.
ReplyDeleteWhy DO we collect shells! They're beautiful objects, of course. But I imagine there's something more primeval about them.
ReplyDeleteCro, yes, something of the Divine Feminine which makes us crave them.
ReplyDeleteMore on the feminine archetypes. This is good. Are you reading Amanda's "Goddess in the Dirt" posts?
ReplyDeleteWe used to keep shells — from places where we lived and to which we travelled. Pure objects, imprisoned in our "high and dry" home.
But no place for them in our smaller den. Sadly.
Rob, I must go read Amanda's posts. Seems we are on the same wavelength with thoughts of the divine feminine.
ReplyDeleteOne of my favorite things! I live in the desert but have shells everywhere. Large glass jars filled with shells we've collected on our travels sit in my dining room. "churning womb of sand" - delicious!
ReplyDeleteLet me assist those who seem to have lost their way.
ReplyDeleteThe shell, which resembles a nipple has been taken from an undisturbed piece of sandy beach. Briny, it becomes a slave for the enjoyment of humans who want to remember their vacation lustfully by lining their window sills or garden paths.
No longer does the shell live where the rhythm of the waves splash and churn from its womb of sand, but now is in a foreign place, like the horse used to pull a wagon for delivering milk and so is cold as stone.
A masterpiece.
Thank you, Winston. QED, my friend.
ReplyDeleteline after line of beauty
ReplyDeleteperfection - Your piece! As a small child my mother and I found the tiniest sea shells far out in the Mohave desert. For years they lived in a small apothecary jar and were placed in the kitchen window.
ReplyDeletethat shell carries as much life in death as it did before...a home to someone once...
ReplyDeleteThat you can take something so simple and make it profound always amazes me. I love taking shells "hostage"; shells and sharks teeth. :)
ReplyDeleteBeautiful imagery, Tess, I agree with you, I feel for the landlocked shells.
ReplyDeleteor feel for any one or thing removed from its natural or beloved habitat. Marooned somewhere foreign to decorate and amuse. interesting theme on this shell. well said.
ReplyDeleteWell I never thought of shells that way, but of course.
ReplyDeleteIt's a gorgeous photo this week, by the way. They are always wonderful, but this one, wow.
Now I feel badly for my shells! I will be more respectful in the future, and leave them in their watery home. They must be so sad.
ReplyDeleteLovely, Tess~ I especially like this:
ReplyDeletetaken as slaves
briny objects
of lust and remembrance
to line window sills
Love the inner pulse of this..it carries me...
ReplyDeleteshould I feel guilty for all my hostages? What a wonderful piece=brilliant!
ReplyDeletewell thanks a lot, tess - now i feel like a shell-exploiter ;) leave it to you to make something really different out of this prompt. do i have to release my shell collection back to the sea now? (oh wait, they're dead. seriously, i can never bear to take the live shells...)
ReplyDeleteOh, no, please, by all means, keep your wonderful collections. I am a lover of stones and bones, myself. The manor is strewn with them.
ReplyDelete...o yes, not a perfect place for a beautiful sea treasure like this... but only to suit a pleasure this lovely treasure was taken away from its home where it truly belongs... this is indeed an admirable piece of yours.. thanks for a wonderful read.(:
ReplyDeleteGood day... [good night here..!!!:)]
~Kelvin
Very beautifully woven.. Seems the conch spoke for itself!
ReplyDeleteOh yes.. I have a huge collection of these and yet crave for more..
Hugs xoxox
Ah, Tess, you've made it sound sinful to rip those shells from their environs! Nice construction!
ReplyDeleteSimple beauties, delicate, yet briny... captured and held for the pleasures of another.
ReplyDeletewow --
ReplyDeleteThey are never as lovely as when they are in their natural environment but still we love to collect them. Beautiful writing:-)
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed all but the sound of 'slosh' - too easy to associate that with being drunk, rather than the 'sloosh' or even 'shoosh' of an ocean... But the
ReplyDelete'briny objects of lust and remembrance to line window sills,
strut garden runways' was magic!
Jinksy says it for me too.
ReplyDeleteMagical, almost 100%
I also liked that the timelessness, the eternity of the creation of a shell comes through in your poem.
Tess this piece is so unique and mysterious. Love it!
ReplyDeleteSimplicity mated with exotic
ReplyDeleteveracity is always a honied
moment, and this piece simmers
with both those truths and a
sliver of sadness. It is like those
signs in national parks warning us
not to take hostage rocks or wood
art. Love your line /far from the
rhythm and slosh/ for we all came
from the sea, from the embrace of
salt, from one womb or another.
Wonderful, Tess!
ReplyDeleteReminds me of Joni singing "anima rising:"
http://jonimitchell.com/music/song.cfm?id=105
Oh! to be that shell..no mortgage, no insurance, no TV, no COMPUTER!? WAIT a MINUTE here, no computer???
ReplyDeleteAfter all, maybe
I'll be just me.
REALLY well-depicted; earthy, in spots illusionary, LOVED it!
Almost primal, this urge to collect shells. Your poem is perfect.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poem. It has me wanting to return all of my seashells back to the ocean! I feel like I've done the girls an injustice somehow.
ReplyDeleteOh, this is so beautiful, Tess. Haunting and intelligent.
ReplyDeletefantastic write.
ReplyDeleteYou made me look at the shells on my windowsill and wince. Well done!
ReplyDeleteI'll never look at a sea shell the same way again...
ReplyDeletevery nice Tess!
Willow,
ReplyDeleteSmooth as silk the rythmic flow of the sea and your words... a mantra to meditate to.
rel
this one leaves you breathless...wonderful
ReplyDeleteGorgeous, Tess! Ahah, yes, I wasn't sure that it was a shell. Great prompt.
ReplyDeleteVery impulsive written and shells enclose the secret of life.
ReplyDeletea song of sympathy for a seashell...miles from home
ReplyDeletethen we place them to our ears to hear the hymns of the homesick
" I can hear the ocean"
Very touching, great imagery, Tess!
ReplyDeleteI spent the better part of the evening writing about the original purple the Phoenician produced from the mucus of the hypobranchial gland of sea snails. Knowing how that color came about made me feel real empathy for those poor molluscs!
Tess--Again, thanks for Magpie Tales.
ReplyDeleteThe last two similes--sheer perfection!
You make me feel so glad I made mine an artificial mollusk. Powerfully written, Tess.
ReplyDelete— K
Kay, Alberta, Canada
An Unfittie's Guide to Adventurous Travel
Wonderful vocabulary and so descriptive. Pleasure to read.
ReplyDeletethe churning
ReplyDeletewomb of sand
Wonderful imagery in this brilliant piece!
That was wonderful. I love listening to you read. Ty :) E
ReplyDeleteQuite beautiful, Tess — tight, spare, crisp, and thought-provoking.
ReplyDeleteTess -- Clue: seashell in the photo. To each its own meaning. I was on top of meaning until I reached the milk-wagon. Nifty poem -- barbara
ReplyDeleteThe best yet.
ReplyDeleteI once brought a seashell home only to discover the creature was still living in its little home! I drove back to the beach because I couldn't bear the thought of killing it, hahaha.
ReplyDeleteAfter reading this, I'm sure glad I did! :)
I guess you could use one more comment. I think you should be a poet. Just a hunch. Beautiful work btw, outstanding in an invertebrate-exoskeleton kind of way. Actually your words and thoughts flow masterfully and transmit such emotion; for a shell. Great work.
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear readers, for your kind and generous comments. You make posting my poetry so very rewarding, my friends. You are the best. x
ReplyDeleteaha...glad you included the picture, but the words are delish...going shell hunting very soon, dipping the old toes into the warm carribean sea...will bring back pics and memories.
ReplyDeletetess this house is scattered with shells. i'll see them differently now. steven
ReplyDeleteFunny, we both said much of the same thing, but yours felt the way I wanted mine to....my arsenal of words needs to be rebuilt for sure. Gorgeous shell, absolutely gorgeous words, Tess.
ReplyDelete- Dina
I find myself longing to go to the beach to gather some hostages - but after your poem I would probably just throw them back :)
ReplyDelete'taken as slave' such powerful imagery, as though taking home the shell from the sea shore is imprisoning them in a place they dont belong, just so you can regard their beauty!... we were always told never to take anything from the beach... lovely poem x
ReplyDeleteWow - love the images, and the closing lines of this.
ReplyDeleteI caught the feminine in this image and I love how you played between the sea and woman.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous piece.
Another Tess beauty......(and I loved Steve E's comment!
ReplyDeleteTess...really liked this one both style and substance. As usual, you are a master craftsman (which I hope you take a a compliment). Whatever beauty a thing might have out of its element is a pale shadow of its beauty in its element. Great stuff. Vb
ReplyDeleteExcellent, perfect.
ReplyDeleteThe true purpose of poetry... To make us see, truly see. You always do that.
ReplyDeleteIncredible ... of course.
ReplyDeleteI saw "Darling" with Julie Christie today. Do you know the film? Your poem resonates perfectly. Wow.
I love shells -- but could never collect and boil out the little critters inside the way my mother-in-law did. She was probably responsible for the near extinction of several Gulf coast varieties.
ReplyDeleteWho will pay the ransom M'lady? We are all hostages to time. Nice one mate!..Cheers!
ReplyDeleteReya, I wasn't familiar with the film, but just checked it out on IMDb and it does seem to fit in perfectly with this poem. Adding it to my Netflix queue. Thanks!
ReplyDeletelove this, with its own music, my favorite kind of poem
ReplyDeleteenjoying your thoughts
ReplyDeleteHey Tess..
ReplyDeleteAmazing take.. feminine.. loved it
OMG, I am totally not kidding. Bought beads made of these exact shells today, to put on the ends of a scarf I just made for someone. KISMET.
ReplyDeleteCold as any stone... what loss.
ReplyDeleteTess you never cease to amaze and inspire me. The Shell is my symbol for the sea and solitude and soulfulness!
ReplyDeletexoxo
Karena
Art by Karena
I have an amazing Giveaway from the Artisans at Novica. You will love it!
... "the churning womb of sand." Loved that. This one is hard for me... I'm thinking, thinking.... :)
ReplyDeleteI believe I'll tell you what a great poem this is a second time because, one, it's that good, and two, I have a new poem:) Thank you.
ReplyDeleteInteresting, even If I can't unerstand all, you know my English is not so good to understand nuances or implied feelings.
ReplyDeletePowerful imagery and brilliant One Shot!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the prompt, Tess, and for the time and effort that clearly you devote week by week to Magpie Tales and its followers. This is appreciated. And as always, love to read your poems.
ReplyDeleteBrilliant stuff Tess - but it could only be. Notches on the gun.
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
Nice woven tail over the shell, waving your words around it.
ReplyDelete"lust and remembrance to line window sills" -- what a beautiful way to describe longing.
ReplyDeletethere's so much to learn from your art of poetry writing. thanks.
ReplyDeleteWondrous, Tess. This poem gave me a full body chill of emotion.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful poetry over here, a great blog in general. I.ll surely be back to read more. Nice to stumble upon Magpie Tales :)
ReplyDeletemy my my! What beautiful imagery, Tess... lyrical and oh so song-like...
ReplyDeleteyour wordplay really took me places deep inside the soul of that little conch.. *sigh*
A shell of virgin rights. Guarded with tenacity following motherly advice but given away easily with innocent declaration of love.
ReplyDeletelove it!
ReplyDeleteow Miss Tess your visit to check what i wrote about this picture on my blog is very much appreciated.
ReplyDeletethat is really something for me. that i think is my first poem (if it can be considered one, LOL!) in my entire life...
JJRod'z
ps... i'm up for my next try...
Dear Tess: Simply brilliant conceptual theme incorporating the idea of the Divine Feminine. A shell can embrace much more than simply a shell; rather a iconic image is the alluding allegory of how women through the ages are like shells held "Hostage" by our whims and wanton disregard of all things feminine. The energy needed for the once nuturing shell is in its natural environs...not dragged without ryhme or reason underneath the milk wagon. Love the Pioneer themed imagery here; getting lots of sepia thoughts here!Excellent!
ReplyDeleteChicco, I love it when my readers can peel back the layers and really enjoy my poetry to its fullest. Thank you, my friend.
ReplyDeleteImperiled by life on land and yearning for simpler times and climes
ReplyDeletedo jellyfish have nightmares?