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It Calls to Me

by Arthur G. Finch (Age: 84)
copyright 11-28-2008


Age Rating: 13 +

I must go to the sea, it calls,
Its crashing billows rise and fall.
Something mystic within my breast,
It draws me and I have no rest.

Some say itís where my life began,
A random act there was no plan.
An accident, it cannot be,
But I still feel its call to me.

The churning sea is not my home,
Yet magic is in frothing foam.
Come sit a while, letís watch the sea,
And tell me, does it call to thee?

Planet Earth has more sea than land,
I know that was my Fatherís plan
I know someday, weíll need the sea
To feed a hungry world, youíll see.

Beautiful, raging, open, sea,
Reminds me of Eternity.
I feel primordial calls itís true,
I also feel you love me too!

Oh sea, Oh sea, Oh Open sea,
I still hear your call to me.
Iím feeling hope, Iím feeling cheer,
Thought I sit here a thousand years.

Youíll never change eternally,
Your waves will break for men to see,
As stars and constellations rise,
In you reflection of the skies.


Iíll sit another moment friend,
And gaze at you who have no end.
And listen as you call to me,
Receive my ashes, when Iím free

In your bosom bury them deep
And rock me gently as I sleep.
And sing to me beneath the Foam,
Another pilgrim has come home!






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        12-18-2008     Raja Sharma        

Dear brother,
This poem of yours took me back to the poem 'The World below the Brine' which I teach in BA IInd year. The difference is very much noticeable:your poem has a very jovial and energetic tone, whereas the poem mentioned above described the sluggish existences of the acquatic animals and marine vegitation which the poet described from a very different angle.
You have given a new meaning to sea and your vision of the sea is very vast and satisfying.
wonderful work!
God bless you
Rajasir

        12-01-2008     Susan Brown        

"Magic in the foam." Can't help but smile at that line and then I see you mention the foam again (at the ending) where you mix it with music. I always ponder about people who have their ashes spread at sea. Seems like such a gigantic "monstrous" resting place. I prefer to think, I'd rather stay put in the ~pretty~ little bottle, float to some hidden island where upon being found, I could get with that magic foam and ...spray another day. I love reading poems about the sea. This was easy to enjoy.
One question? Is there some significant reason for O rather than Oh? I thought maybe you might be referring to another work when you said, "O Sea, O Sea, O Open Sea." Anyhow, I enjoyed the lovely images- Wild Sea Scape.
Thnaks,
Susan



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