Salt water splashes my face/Original poem [100 Days poetry challenge (Day 82, Poem 81)]
Salt water splashes my face
The storm punishes my boat
The blow of the waters is strong.
I try to face
The diabolical wind
With unusual courage,
I tied one arm to the helm,
The other cleans my face
How long will this storm last?
Muscular fatigue,
The panting whistles of the wind
They make fun of adversity.
I'm worried about rigging.
Do not go to the bottom of the sea.
Separator
Poetry written for (100 Day Poetry Challenge) organized by @d-pend made for Steemit
5/28/18
I find this a very satisfying poem to ponder. The sub-context is present, and if one is willing, pulls the reader in.
There are so many things to unpack in the first three lines. One of the things I look for in writing is a potent opening and this poem delivers. Fate & Intent on a tightrope of bodily constitution and nature (or perhaps, the outer world) are in opposition and the tension is fierce. Can the boat withstand the harshness of the water in its fury mode? Can the narrator withstand the storms of life, or at least this storm?
The wind is a character and “diabolical” at that, one that the narrator must endure to survive; there is a sense of urgency here and, it is acute in feeling. The line between the boat and self is further cinched with the narrator tying self to the helm and wiping the waters from the face with a specific mention of “cleans”. I see this as some sort of a burden that is deeply seated in an emotional crisis of bonds to another, or a situation, or an organization (which is also a prevailing symbol tied to things such as boats); or even, outdated ways of being and doing things. “Cleans my face” brings to mind many things that would easily play into the narrative here. “My face”, this is personal, emotive, and makes me think of windshield wipers in the rain, how hard it is to see, to get clarity, the full immersive aspect of the experience that keeps one lucid. Also, of identity, how others see you (sense of self).
The tension between emotion (water) and thought(wind) is furthered by the only literal question to the outside world, the reader, God/dess, whomever (again possibly, self); “How long will this storm last?” that is followed by a pensive descriptive of resignation, “Muscular fatigue”. When is enough enough? Is this worth the effort? Can I go on? The idea of questioning here leads one to think there is actually ample will power to succeed and presents as more of a contemplative rather than a literal question, as there is no mention of Will, only muscular fatigue, a descriptive image but not on the level of utter doom (S.O.S.).
“They make fun of adversity” is an intriguing thought. The first thing that comes to mind is political stuff (this could be my reaction to adversity in a modern context) and then I started down another sink-line of this poem altogether, of which I shall not dive further at this time. However, it is of interest that you bring into the plot “They”; Who are they? The mask like face, panting winds that whistle, how you must face the wind, the words, the ideas of self, the blowing and pounding of the wind on the water, on the boat — They are somehow seated on a foundation to make such judgements of adversity via observation (or at least your observance of their judgements).
The integrity of the rigging seems to be in question as a full stand alone thought with a period. Then the rather ominous last ponder comes like a curious dare: “Do not go to the bottom of the sea.” This is quite interesting in that it has such a strong tone and yet it is closed off with a period rather than an exclamation mark. Mysterious marks on the paper indeed… I feel a superstition creeping in (could not resist).
If I were to take this with a simple go over, for me the take-away is: You are weathering the storm and hoping that the vessel is strong enough to endure, that all the things you could do (rigging) were done correctly and you shall make it through. That experience (the final warning and thought of the bottom) is on your side despite the judgements of others that have seen you struggle in the past.
A wonderful piece to play with, thank you for this.
Thanks, friend, poet. An assertive analysis I am satisfied that what I wanted to transmit has been seen.
Stay afloat friend. As I always say, nothing lasts. Nothing. For though things may seem daunting, adversity builds character.
Thanks friend.
Adversity is swallowing our spirits. The reality of our country is closing our psyche. This work reminds me that the mind associates everything to the known and our sea, in this case, it is the metaphor of the desolation transformed in the attempt to explain the feeling of discomfort, uncertainty, fear of the prolongation of the state of affairs. Good poem, brother!
Thank you sister.
Stay up brother,
You have portrayed your emotions well in this poem. Looks like you took some time to find the perfect pics that depict the situation too. Good one man.
Grateful for your words friend. Thank you.