Melancholy Hyperbole

Poetry about longing.

An Ocean View

The trail to the beach
is rough and gun-grey.
The shore itself
is mostly rocks
with the occasional small
patch of sand.
The weather is cold.
The waves are incessant.
But the ocean
is the perfect stand-in
for the past,
for all that is impossible
for me to wrap
my head, my arms around.
That’s why I walk down
from the cottage.
That’s why I find
a resting place
and do nothing
but stare out
at the waters,
at all I can have no part in.
It’s a rough and chilly compromise.
What my eyes take on,
my heart doesn’t have to feel.
 
 
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident. Recently published in New Plains Review, Perceptions, and the anthology No Achilles.

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Categories: Poetry

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1 reply

  1. Deceptively simple language. Powerful.

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