Winter Sea Spray

Winter sun
Shimmers on
Lacy froth
As tumbling pebbles
Spit from turquoise
Tumultuous sea spray

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Ese’s weekly shoot quote challenge:Memories

‘ Memories are the key not to the past
but the future.’
Corrie Ten Bown

Time to wander,
Pondering whilst
Sauntering on
Sunny,
Silky,
Wet sand
Like a caramel
Fudge land.
Salty lips,
Chalky skin,
A deep,
Warm mineral
Breath in:
Letting go.
Waves fade
Negative thoughts
Wash away.
Sea lavender breeze,
Flotsam of old trees.
Memories like
Sea glass pebbles
And sea shell patterns
In the sand.

Ese’s challenge ‘memories’ gave me the idea to return to the memory of the walk with my husband and dogs on the Norfolk sands one carefree day when we were on holiday and had time to saunter and breathe in the minerals and taste the seaside. It was a precious memory, where we got lost in our own thoughts, reminisced and had fun with our dogs. The light was wonderful, so relaxing.
Ese’s weekly shoot and quote challenge: Memories

Weekly photo challenge: One shot, two ways

So for  this challenge I chose a different subject matter, close to my husband’s heart as he comes from a long line of fishing people, with a passion and a great respect for the sea. The shot was taken in a tiny fishing village, far West on the Dumfries and Galloway coast. I was taken by the realism and atmosphere of this fine statue.
The fisherman is looking out to sea, deep in thought; I feel the change of angle of the shot has increased the tension in the photgraph. What do you think?

A fisherman’s thoughts

On a bleak Scottish day,
A chill crosses the lone
Fisherman’s gaze;
Mesmerized by spitting
Light on the blinking
Waves,
He thinks back to
Days when nets
Swelled with writhing
Catch,
A salty supper
For bairns
Rumbling tums,
Nursed on mothers’
swollen Laps.
As daylight fades,
He fears fisher folk
Amongst the heaving
Ocean:
Flotsam  beaten,
Driftwood tangled
With a sea filled welly
Spilling out against
Granite boulders.

weekly photo challenge: one shot, two ways

Weekly Photo challenge: The golden hour

The golden hour begins
As a medley of majestic
Melon,
Opulent orange,
Sultry sanguine
And raspberry
Ripple
Seep serenely:
The sky prepares
To sleep.

Fishermen’s huts
Heave into slumber,
Creaking gently.
A brisk breeze;
A salty scent of
Slithering skate
Funnels through
Wooden slats,
Waking the ghosts
Of cod and
Heaving haddock.
Pearcing purple dust,
Dwindles to dusk;
Nibbled nets
Nest with
Lumbered
Lobster pots,
Lovingly abandoned.

My response to the challenge is the evocation of the sun going down on the beach, where the fishing huts feel ‘ lovingly abandoned’ for the night after a hard day’s work; there is also a deeper sadness in the ‘creaking’ wood and the ‘nibbled nets’ of a disappearing industry as youngsters move away to work: ‘purple dust turns to dusk’ and skills and experience die out.

http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/07/12/photo-challenge-the-golden-hour

A-Z writing challenge letter M Message in the sand

One wild, dangerous night,
Church bells, deep in the sea
Chimed furiously at midnight.
Flickering flame from a fisherman’s
Lantern suddenly snuffed out
As rolling waves
Roared to a crescendo.
Turbulent sea churned spitting out
Remnants of the night.
The message in the sand.