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    Valkyrie
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  • 23 Comments
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Sandcastles - 1. Chapter 1

Dedicated to JW -- gone far too young.

Sandcastles

I watch you sit cross-legged at the edge of the cliff,

as white-capped waves resculpt what’s left of the beach.

The route we walked just hours earlier,

exploring and climbing crumbling shale precipices,

submerged and inaccessible.

Now sand and water collide,

advancing and receding as one.

New crevices create temporary ponds,

blocking the path to the fallen tree serving as bridge

between camp and water.

The same bridge where you steadied me with firm hands,

when my steps faltered.

A sturdy log leading to the bright beach where we ran and laughed and

sang songs around the campfire,

Eventually realizing we were water and sand,

a temporary structure waiting for high tide.

Bright sunlight briefly peeked through the dark clouds,

creating a halo around your auburn hair,

contrasting the angry surf.

In that moment, you were holy to me.

Sacred,

untouchable,

a sandcastle slipping through my fingers.

.

 

 

Renovations

We used to joke down the forest trail,

renovating it with our imagination.

We would run from the tree-people into

shacks with crumbling walls –

home for the day.

What we were running from didn’t exist

in this world.

But we got too close,

and the tree-people caught us,

and rebuilt the walls.

 

 

Circle in the Sand

Firelight flickering –

Dancing flames in

Pagan reminiscent rituals

Water washing –

What once was

Putting out the blaze.

These are re-worked versions of poems I wrote in my late teens. They are about a group of people I grew up with and were very close to. One of them recently passed away, so these are dedicated to his memory. RIP, JW. I wish you were here. Thank you for reading!
Copyright © 2023 Valkyrie; All Rights Reserved.
  • Love 17
Poetry posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

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Chapter Comments

Sandcastles is so beautiful, yet so sad. I look back to those days of my youth and think how what was so real and a part of my life has been lost over the years. We used to play at the Scarborough Bluffs, and your descriptions took me there once more. It was a dangerous place to explore, but we were young and invincible. Life doesn't let us pretend long enough. 

Renovations takes me to those crazy days of play, where imaginations had no boundaries and real life took a back seat to fun. Those moments were temporary for me, stolen moments, and so cherished for that reason. All children should get to be kids, even teenagers on the cusp.

Circle in the Sand reignites the campfire in evening for me... the end of the day where we watch the flames fade out, and take our depleted bodies home. The sadness I find in this is the okay kind, even if what waited at home was not always the best. Thanks for these, Val. Beautiful writing. Cheers! 

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3 hours ago, Headstall said:

Sandcastles is so beautiful, yet so sad. I look back to those days of my youth and think how what was so real and a part of my life has been lost over the years. We used to play at the Scarborough Bluffs, and your descriptions took me there once more. It was a dangerous place to explore, but we were young and invincible. Life doesn't let us pretend long enough. 

Renovations takes me to those crazy days of play, where imaginations had no boundaries and real life took a back seat to fun. Those moments were temporary for me, stolen moments, and so cherished for that reason. All children should get to be kids, even teenagers on the cusp.

Circle in the Sand reignites the campfire in evening for me... the end of the day where we watch the flames fade out, and take our depleted bodies home. The sadness I find in this is the okay kind, even if what waited at home was not always the best. Thanks for these, Val. Beautiful writing. Cheers! 

Thank you so much :hug: The camp we went to was on the shores of Lake Erie, and there were lots of cliffs around.  The trail to get down to the beach was steep and windy.  We had to cross that fallen log in order to get to the beach.  So it was not for the faint of heart.  I'm surprised no one got seriously injured on any of our trips, especially the one where a friend of mine literally fell down one of the cliffs :unsure: 

These are definitely all cherished moments for me.  Emblazoned in my memory.  I'm glad I was able to put them into words and that so many are able to relate to them.  I think you're exactly right about the sadness... while wistful, it's okay.  Thank you for sharing your thoughts.  :hug: 

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3 hours ago, Bill W said:

If these poems were about the same person, then maybe it was about more than just friendship.  Merely my opinion, but they were all very touching. 

They were written about a group of people, which included JW, although Sandcastles was about one person in particular.  There were definitely some relationships that went beyond friendship.  Thank you for the lovely comment. :hug:   

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