An Oyster In The Sand


I have nothing anew left to say to you,

My soul feels empty, barren, and bare;

All the love that I’ve showered you with,

Just wasn’t enough to get you to care.

But now that I’ve given all I have to give,

I can no longer on my heart let you tread;

Allow you any further to crush its yearning-

Incapacitate it of loving someone who cares.

So go away my love, find your true calling,

Allow me on my own to withstand the glare;

Let the waves engulf me body and soul now,

Thereby wash away all of you that is yet left.

Surely there’s someone there looking for me,

With a heart full of love and concern to spare;

That which he could not lifelong as yet lavish-

On one who left early, sorely implanting it there.

I would gladly wash up on him, at life’s shore,

The waves returning me anew, my soul fresh;

Where he’d pick me tenderly as a gift so rare,

Draw me out from an oyster with loving care.

He would recognise the hand of god in this,

In my washing up on his shore on golden sand;

Wouldn’t my heart he now shelter and cherish:

Acknowledge it’s that pearl valuable and rare?

This poem is inspired by my rereading of “The Pearl” a novella by American author John Steinbeck…

“In the town they tell the story of the great pearl- how it was found and how it was lost again. They tell of Kino, the fisherman, and of his wife, Juana, and of the baby, Coyotito. And because the story has been told so often, it has taken root in every man’s mind. And, as with all retold tales that are in people’s hearts, there are only good and bad things and black and white things and good and evil things and no in-between anywhere.” 

“If this story is a parable, perhaps everyone takes his own meaning from it .”

Cold At Your Door


Cold At Your Door


All I wanted from you is a little shade –

A little shelter from the rain I desired;

Cover from the torrential pour outside,

A safe haven is all my soul considered.


It wasn’t your heart I wanted for myself,

Neither a space in your house did I ask;

Refuge from the torrent is all I coveted –

Till I could find my own bearing upright.


You then indicated an illusionary space –

Permitted me a canopy on your porch:

My heart tripped in the torrential rain,

So you left me outside, cold in the dark.


Amassing my self-esteem from your egress,

I walked out bare, abashed, a mere wobble:

Drenched, in public view I stood vulnerable –

True love came by, straddled me in its lurch!


“Oft expectation fails, and most oft there where most it promises.”

William Shakespeare. All’s Well That Ends Well, act II, i, 145