Day 184: One Drop

by Sam Craft

One Drop

I come to you whilst sun still sleeps, my soul an empty well

You offer bright a pleasing drip of crystal blue, the flavor of your skin

I watch, my eyes upon your virtue, fingers tracing thin, such shallow ripple

By sunrise cruel day has harvested my sweet bounty and sky cries with thunder

And thusly, parched, in early morn, I return in famine to feed from you

I clutch, heavy bucket firm, hollow and alive, beckoning for your taste

Again, you offer naught; say single bead of blood, a grain from savored heap

Yet still I take, I gobble, devour, forlorn lady of the dust, shapeless in her struggle

With the coming of noon, I yearn, spiteful satisfaction laughing, and crawl to noble feet

Slaking, I rise still,  cherished flask in aching hands, I bring forward

In one move, without thought, you dip into me, a cool touch against my phantom being

I am quenched for but a fraction of a step, before your image fades to misty past

Leaping back through shadows, I stumble fast, and mourn the lost bit of you

In longing,  I return once more, pulled forward at midday, to harvest with cold metal spoon

I watch spent, with heart grey, as lonely drop you drip from butterfly’s tongue

So singular in action, so sparse, a flea would gasp for more. But I? I dance

And in spinning, spoon bends, and the gathering of hopes is lost within the moors

Sundown comes with sorrow, a thinly eye-dropper I balance true, to abide my knight

At long last you call me hither, I blush and bend, with breath held, a beautiful droplet to humbly seize

Steadily, I squeeze, bringing your essence into the dry caverns of my waking dreams

Bathed in fleeting gratitude, I bask boldly, as soothing rivers travel through starved holes

Until the midnight hour, and I find I am no more alive than before, still this gatherer of scattered splinters

Shaken by seizing ache, withered and dried, familiar prison of emerald charm, free this wanting child

This empty well, before the last tear escapes, and all I am is perished, through the release of one last drop

~ Sam Craft, July 2012

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25 thoughts on “Day 184: One Drop

  1. “I watch spent, with heart grey, as lonely drop you drip from butterfly’s tongue
    So singular in action, so sparse, a flea would gasp for more. But I? I dance”

    Love those lines they say so much, a poem on their own really.
    Love you LOADS my lovely friend. xxx 🙂 ❤

  2. Ahhh Sam — this one necessitated my tired brain to read through many times… love the imagery and deep “hunger” you have expressed so passionately here… Seems it’s an unquenchable hunger in many ways 😦 Enjoyed in its entirety and loved this:

    “At long last you call me hither, I blush and bend, with breath held, a beautiful droplet to humbly seize
    Steadily, I squeeze, bringing your essence into the dry caverns of my waking dreams
    Bathed in fleeting gratitude, I bask boldly, as soothing rivers travel through starved holes
    Until the midnight hour, and I find I am no more alive than before, still this gatherer of scattered splinters”

    Another obviously channelled work dear sea sister ~ in awe and with love, R

    1. You know…maybe I should have ended the poem at those lines…You have such an eye for poetry. So sorry the brain had to work on this one. hehe. Deep hunger…you think??? (giggles) Yep, that’s me. As for the rest, some day we shall have a spot of tea and share. 🙂
      So glad you enjoyed. This was one of my favorites…it took some time to ooze out of all my pores today….quite some time.
      You are too sweet. Hugs sea sister. xoxoxo

      1. just really learning the world of poetry… do enjoy ~ though always want to ‘analyze’ and my oldest daughter has explained that I need not interpret – just feel it. 🙂 So glad you think i have a sense for it though!! Yes – tea…a date!! All your pores??!! Oh MY!!! — we will discuss that at tea as well — Smiles and Hugs!

      2. Just feel it…..wise daughter you have…need to carry that advice to life itself….at least I do…forget the constant dissection. Tea and spilling the guts in order. Hugs, Sam

    1. I’m so glad you and Robyn like the image….it is one of my favorites I ever took. I like the contrast. One side is the still, dirty murky water. “Seno” can mean womb or the bossom of the family, depending. On one side of the photo is the promised dream….the ferris wheel, carnival…yet it is only an illusion. And how the crow, he just sits there between the two worlds. 🙂 My interpretation, anyhow. Thanks for your thoughts. 🙂 Sam

  3. oooo i almost forgot about the image as the poem swept me away but I so do agree, world-class. The composition, reflection in the water – simply amazing and could have been a post all by itself!!xo

    1. So glad you liked it. So did George. I love the statement the photo makes…the extreme contrast and how the crow sits seemingly between two worlds…..doesn’t he??? Thanks so much :)))

      1. Did not notice the word Seno till now… amazing! Yes – the crow stuck between 2 worlds – one of grand illusion. It’s a fabulous shot!! xo

  4. Sam that first line took my breath away..what a beauty and then the whole poem..the longing of a craving dry soul for a drop of love….every line a beauty quenching a readers thirst.

    “I am quenched for but a fraction of a step, before your image fades to misty past
    Leaping back through shadows, I stumble fast, and mourn the lost bit of you”…marvelous

    1. I love to read what lines catch readers’ attention…I think I agree with you with the first line as the one I cherish….and yes….you are spot on with: “the longing of a craving dry soul for a drop of love” You are by far one of the most insightful commenters…You have a gift for going to the core of a post and highlighting the heart of the substance. Love your visits and words, as always. 🙂 Sam

  5. lovely poem…i love it…i really do 🙂

    “This empty well, before the last tear escapes, and all I am is parished, through the release of one last drop”

    The last line keeps playing in my head…more like i’m really feeling it…just one question though, Sam…is that parished? or perished? sorry, can’t help asking questions 😦

    good to be back reading your blogs again…missed a lot…{{hugs}}

      1. It may sound funny to most, but, since I know it’s a term of endearment, it sounds fine to me. You decide what you want there and I will try to comply.
        BB (I mean, face it, I could be Blogging Older Brother and just be BOB lol).

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