Sandy Starr is a journalist, writer/photographer for a newspaper and business publications. She currently resides in the mountains outside of Albuquerque, New Mexico. She makes an annual pilgrimage to California. She has written poetry for as long as she can remember. She has been published locally in several publications, and in InkLit and Artisan. Starr has lived all over the country and the world. Her heart however still lives in San Francisco, where she lived for two years in the 1970's. She says that she loves the California coast, and that her favorite thing to do is drive up Highway 1 and take it all in," the view, the smell, everything." Starr wrote the poems in this collection while visiting the ocean in California.
I opened the door to the sea
And to the sea that knows my name
Moist salt air
Somewhere he's standing
I see him there
How much longer must I go
Dry as dust
Let me gulp in
Often we remember
It wasn’t love at first sight
I don’t remember when I fell in love
that had called me
to command performance
and for days and nights
it unfolded
full moon high tide
nonstop pounding surf
seabirds played tag
in the wave spray haze
of afternoon light
and the sun grew fat and gold
before dropping off the horizon
I cried into the roar
words that brought forth from my inner sea
tears
to mingle with the mist
soothed parched lungs
and the dust dry cracks
and crevices of my soul
began to fill
as the sea worked its magic
yet held back just a bit
payment for letting its call
go unheeded
for so long.
Mystery Man
facing west
skin and hair spun gold
by the setting sun
through the mist
his eyes
all colors of the sea
watch a distant horizon
and wait
somewhere he is breathing in the ocean
soothing more than dry lungs
and parched soul
as he hears songs in the waves
they sing of whales and dolphins
leaping toward the sky
and of rolling roaring storms
as he fades into the sunset
dissolves into the mist
becomes the sea breeze
the foaming waves
a gull screaming overhead.
Renewal
with only memories
tucked away in photo albums
a jar of sand and shells
in the windowsill
and dreams
that bring the smell and sight and sound
of rolling bluegreen waves
to sustain me.
and empty
my heart a vast desert landscape
I need it now
like a primal being
crawling on damp sand
among the seaweed
and shell debris
left by waves and tide.
great ragged breaths
fill my lungs to bursting
with wet salty air
saturate my soul with peace
let me begin again
at the sea
First Love
falling in love
the where and how it hit us
hard and fast
or slow and easy
a slow dawning as if embraced
by a healing mist
but I can’t remember when
I fell in love with the sea
when it became part of my being
without which I cannot survive
and still be the me that functions
laughs and smiles
or at least not obviously so
maybe it planted its seaweed seeds at first encounter
that sprouted silently in the dark
wrapping around my heart and soul
incorporating salt and sand and tide and waves
into my veins
filling a hunger deep in me that nothing else
can fill
with the sea
the vision the sound and smell
the very essence
from which I can’t long stray without paying
the way any creature which comes from the ocean
will falter and fade unless put back in its place
until it is home again..
Months have passed since I stepped bare feet
onto damp sand and sucked life back into my soul.
Now, the glowing box teases in the night
with the sight of rolling sea.
White caps tickle up the shoreline,
sea birds soar and dive--
hang gliders in their sky dance.
I sit upright
in the glow dancing on my bedroom walls,
breathe deep and reach out my hand
as if to grab hold and pull myself in.
The scene fades, I shake myself from where I have been--
lost on the edge of land, lost in the sand,
immersed in the sound, the feel, the smell and
I could swear when I pull back my hand
it is wet with sea mist
and a speck of grit sparkles on my palm
in the tv's flickering images.
All text and images in The Central California Poetry Journal are copyrighted. Copyright by © by Scott Galloway 1997. All rights are reserved. See main Journal page for
copyright information.
Authors and poets submitting original materials to this journal retain all rights to their
original work, except those rights specifically assigned in writing to Solo Publications including the right to publish the submitted work in The Central California Poetry Journal. The poems on this page are copyrighted by the author. Copyright © Sandra Starr 1997.
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