It was never how the sea bit at my ankles
or how the kelp of its fingers were trying vain
pulling me down that made me see how like angels
are the stones in my pockets and how pain
that would be left in the sand for my lover to gather
wouldn’t bring solace to me once I am dead,
I turned my back to the sea, lonely cadavered
in sorrow with brine in my hair to the bed
where my lady was waning, moon-mocked in silver
as fake as her promises given at noon,
and I slept in the cold of the death I had pilfered
from the hunger of waves a Monday in June.
The Stormy Sea (The Wave)
Gustave Courbet
A poem for MindloveMisery’s prompt Mad About Metaphor . I love metaphors and tried to use one and mix in a few others.
Also linking to Tuesday Platform at toads.
Björn Rudbergs writings 
deep as the ocean, twisting like kelp, biting as death, cold as a cadaver’s soul. beautiful in its bleakness
Beautiful words and strong imagery. Thanks for joining in the challenge 😊
Gooseflesh! This: ” … the stones in my pockets and how pain
that would be left in the sand for my lover to gather
wouldn’t bring solace to me once I’m dead … ”
WOW! This is an amazement of a poem. I especially love “moon-mocked in silver, as fake as her promises”, and the image of brine in the narrator’s hair. Stellar writing, Bjorn.
This is absolutely exquisite! ❤️ Especially love; “where my lady was waning, moon-mocked in silver as fake as her promises given at noon.” Wow! 😀
Oh my, Björn, your poem has started an itch to go to the beach! I love the ankle-biting sea and the angel-like stones in pockets. It is so tenderly tinged with sadnessI
My voice was contemplating suicide at the beach (the reference to stones in my pockets is a reference to that)…. but I do normally love a beach.
I did get the hint at suicide but you made the sea so alluring.
“moon-mocked in silver
as fake as her promises given at noon,… sounds like neither the sea or your woman are going to offer comfort – and you won’t oblige either of them of getting to you either! A sad poem…
I really enjoyed this wonderful poem with so much emotion and many cool metaphors.
Loved this bit: “how like angels/are the stones in my pockets and how pain/that would be left in the sand for my lover to gather/wouldn’t bring solace to me once I am dead”.
Such interesting metaphors throughout and the overall symbolism of death and decay is just wonderful.
“Pilfered” turned it all for me — the victim become the volunteer in this metaphoric sago of love.
how like angels
are the stones in my pockets
Only you could create such a dichotomous comparison! Just brilliant. I was hooked from the first line.
I just let the (half) rhymes lead me on… ankles gave me angles. and the thought of the sea and sea biting the ankles made me think of a suicide attempt…. so that lead me to stones in my pockets… I see rhymes a bit like “found” poetry.
A lovely piece!! The moon, the sea, and summer…can you ask for more?
Your words are brilliantly carved! Apt use of metaphors.
Loved these lines –
‘pulling me down that made me see how like angels
are the stones in my pockets and how pain
that would be left in the sand for my lover to gather
wouldn’t bring solace to me once I am dead’
Sounds like a bad Monday one June. I had a time like that, I was really p.o.’d when her long time boy friend returned home to stay from a long overseas stint in the military. Feelings hurt as well.
..