An Offering of Poetry

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The Big Drop (a fragment)
Steven Riddle

I Paddling Out
Paddling out shows you that you have
placed yourself in the hand of God.
Mountains shift around you, moving past
as you cut through the aquamarine frame.
Did you know that this blueness, this clarity
this water as sharp as glass means no life
flourishes here? And yet you set youself,
a fleshly jewel amid the adamantine, sapphire rolls,
and your entire world ascends until the slope
you ride embraces the cloud weary sky,
and desends to where the kraken's eyes
are the sole source of light.
And they stare through you.

II-Catching the Wave
Catching the wave, you weigh the world of water
that passes just beneath you. A breath of wind
a hint of the passing swell, and liver, heart, or brain,
you know this is not the one, it waits
and you smell it, hear it, taste it,
it weighs in your stomach a finely balanced stone
that shifts and shifts until it tilts and you are
up, standing at the edge of the abyss,
and you caught it.

III-The Big Drop
From shifting mountains as blue as God's eye,
the white water crest chases you down the wall,
A continuing and relentless all-embracing fall.
This is it, the big drop, that leaves your stomach
at the top, fine-balanced stone and all.
You ride your breath down the massive waterwall

© 2003 Steven Riddle

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This page contains a single entry by Steven Riddle published on February 26, 2003 8:11 AM.

Tribute to the Fallen I'm was the previous entry in this blog.

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