Waxing, Waning by Enoch Thompson

800px-Ocean_waves_foam by Jon Sullivan


curving, beautiful,

ocean cloudy,

yet when you imagine them

they shine the clearest ideal blue.

Salt on your tongue and in your eye

reminds you there is no escape

from grit, from the salty sand ashore,

there can be only less or more.

It’s enough to make you contemplate

a seaweed’s fate or fish’s story

seen from it’s ugly marble eyes,

how the ocean shallows

shift distant horizons

into whole alien


beyond, behind.

You contemplate waves,

take mental snapshots, recall

precise amounts of sand stirring

at the shuffle of your foot, floating

to the top of the wave like white pepper

in a scratched kitchen glass. You are

limited, terribly limited at counting

grains of sand upon the shore.

Only god has time for that, so

just enjoy the screams of

pleasure, fun, perhaps

a little hidden, silent

panic as the

waves crash



To read Enoch’s bio and more of his poetry published on WIZ, go here.

Photo by Jon Sullivan

One thought on “Waxing, Waning by Enoch Thompson”

  1. There’s a lot to like about this poem, but last line of this poem catches the reader (at least this reader) by surprise. Overall the poem is fun in shape, in its level of description. But the last line stings, like salt in a scratch. An engaging ending to a rolling poem.

    Both your poems this time end very well. Nicely done!


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