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Portuguese Man o' War


Sunrise and already the water 
is being seared with a glow 
as if under a grill. 
You can feel the heat building
in the morning air, the sand 
still warm from yesterday.

The tide has left the creature
stranded on the beach,
its frilled sail glistening 
and rigged with blue tentacles
clumped menacingly beside
its motionless body.

The sun will soon cook it
to a dried out bladder.
This drifting marvel of murder
is now no more than sea phlegm 
coughed up on the crest 
of a wave. It looks so pitiful.

And yet it still 
has the power to inflict 
a painful sting. Venom
waits for one last desperate
chance to snare some poor
careless prey.

My fingers seem possessed 
with a will to pick it up 
to see how it feels without 
being stung. I hover somewhere
between head and hand, 
stranded by indecision.




Footnote 
This is one of a series of poems 
that have the shoreline as the 
backdrop for the exploration
of meaning in things washed up
on the beach or in the experience 
of being in the moment.
Paul


Copyright © | Year Posted 2024




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Date: 4/5/2024 6:35:00 AM
Hello Paul, What a haunting portrayal of nature's beauty and danger intertwined. Your description of the creature stranded on the beach evokes a sense of both awe and trepidation. I love the imagery you conjure, from the glistening frilled sail to the menacing blue tentacles, which immerses me in the scene's atmosphere of both allure and peril. The internal struggle you convey, contemplating the creature's power despite its pitiful appearance, adds depth to the narrative. You leave me with a sense of fascination and caution. - Blessings, Daniel
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Willason Avatar
Paul Willason
Date: 4/7/2024 3:24:00 PM
Always a delight to read your commentary dear Daniel. Must confess I savour it like a dog with a juicy bone. Seriously, I thank you sincerely for the time you put into composing such reviews, you honor my little creations with your thoughtful and skilled summaries. Take care my friend.

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