Category: People

Poetry by Patrick Jennings
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Haystack Rock, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Surf Song

With gentle insistence
The ocean rises up to greet me
And I, pant legs rolled to my calves
Welcome it’s cool, frothy embrace
Enjoy the caress of water over my ankles
The sensation of sinking into the sand
As the receding wave draws the beach
From beneath my feet

I stay there for an hour or so
Take a few steps back
When the waves threaten my trousers
A few steps forward
When they fail to reach me
My sandpiper dance
In time with the surf song
And its choir of gulls

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Poetry by Patrick Jennings
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The World Comes Apart, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Ashore

The world comes apart a little
As I drag myself up onto the shore
Desperate to make the high tide line
Before exhaustion consumes my consciousness
Which seems already sparsely rational

The flood tide saved me
Put land within my reach
But while the Moon is a compassionate Goddess
The Sea Lord is greedy
And eagerly awaits Her waning influence
To drag me back to His depths

Hand over hand I crawl
Wet sand beneath my nails
Sodden clothes a sullen weight
Every laboured breath sputters salt water
Until my eyes roll back
With a final thought

I hope this is far enough

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Poetry by Patrick Jennings
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Waiting, Taken from a moving taxi, Jakarta, Java, Indonesia

Waiting ~ Pic and a Word Challenge #330

In a moment of sizzle
Humming fan blades
And the thrum of traffic

She waited
For some tasty tidbit
I couldn’t make out from the taxi

She thought about yesterday
And tomorrow
Last week and next month

She thought about everything
But this moment
And the tasty thing sizzling

Or the next moment
When the tasty thing would mercilessly
Burn her tongue oh so deliciously

But…

Who’s to say any of this is true?
I was just a photographer living in the frame
Capturing serendipitous moments from a moving taxi

And now I’m just a poet
Listening to the words as they come
Trying to give them their moment

So all of it is fiction
Or maybe some of it is the truth
Though, hopefully

I’ve created something
Which at least
Speaks truly

Even if
It only speaks truly
About the act of creation

Or maybe, the story
Is just saying something truthful
About the creator

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Poetry by Patrick Jennings
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Beachcomber and Lover, Cannon Beach, Oregon, United States of America

Beachcomber

Beachcombing
You come with me
The same way you come shopping
Indulge me

Shopping
You come into the mall
Find a comfortable place
Then sit and read
Or people watch
Feign interest in the things I buy
Then watch over the bags
While I go to another shop

At the beach
You walk safely
Beyond the longest waves
While I splash about
Getting soaked
Finding sea stars and shells
Sand dollars and seaweed
Always feigning amazement
At the wonders I bring

But whether a crowded mall
Or an empty beach
You always come
Often despite my protestations
That you don’t like to shop
Or go beachcombing
That you’ll be bored
And I’m sure your time
Would be better spent
Doing something else

“No”
You say
“I’m coming”

And it always surprises me
Takes my breath away
When I notice that your feigned pleasure
In a new scarf
Or a hermit crab
Is just a distraction
Because you’re not looking at the object
I’m showing you
You’re looking at me
With the sparkle of wonder in your eye
And I’m reminded again
That you come
To be with me
And there’s no place
You’d rather be

And, my god
I could not love you more
For the way you take pleasure
In indulging me

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