A stone’s toss
from sea to beach,
where stoic women wait,
beseeching gods of stone-face
for their men’s grace.
Storm-tossed waves, deep-sea graves–
a stone’s toss
to stone-cut hearth, the fire dead.
Uncut threads
tie spirit-treads to stony-shore–
stone-cold hearts still yearn for more.
A quadrille for dVerse, where De asks us to use the word stone. I decided to go with the season.
Yesterday and today: Merril's historical musings 
I enjoyed reading this poem. You did a good job with the word stone.
Thank you so much!
This ebbs and flows like the sea…with both hope, and tragedy.
I LOVE: “Storm-tossed waves, deep-sea graves” especially.
Thank you very much, De!
I love this… so many stories told from those waiting at shore for those who are crushed in the waves… true to season
Thanks so much, Bjorn!
So cold! Watching shipwrecks must always have been cold and drenching wet. I was shivering.
I imagine it is, even in warm places.
I started thinking of a movie we saw where men leaving Dakar to find work get shipwrecked, and their ghosts come back.
Ghosts always have to go somewhere. It’s a horrible way to go.
Yes, it must be. 😔
This surely is the widow-maker season for sailors 😦 Your word stitching is wonderful here, it makes the eye slow down and appreciate its intricacy.
Thank you for that lovely comment, Lisa! 💙
I hadn’t thought about it being the season, but I suppose you’re right. Though I guess a storm could come at any time.
Merril, your comment at the bottom said you decided to “go with the season” so I thought that’s what you meant 🙂 You are very welcome.
Oh, I meant spooky season. 😀 Sorry about the confusion.
❤ 🙂
Nice one
Much💜love
Thank you!💙
I really enjoyed this one Merril. Seems the women who’s men sailed the seas all had this in common!
Yes, I imagine they did and do. Thank you, Dwight!
This made me think of the seashore houses with widow-walks. So many lost sailors, stoic women and sad stories!
Yes, you are so right, Beverly. Thank you!
Oh the pace, the rhythm, the sonics here are marvelous, Merril.
Thank you so much, Ron.!
Storm tossed waves provide mental pictures of the season Merril. The sea is a harsh mistress and doesn’t seem to mind the sacrifices the widows have made to her. It is never enough.. So many bones lie in her embrace now yet she remains jealous of those that live.
Huge Hugs
So well said, David. Thank you very much. Hugs back to you!
I love how you use stone word combination here – stone face, hearth, stone cold hearts. The wait can be agonizing.
Thank you so much, Grace. I can’t even imagine a wait like that.
It’s interesting how the different occurrences of the word same word stone have such subtle shadings to impart when combined with each different word.
Thank you, Claudia. Yes, I don’t normally repeat a word like that, but it came to me while walking, so I went with it.
I really liked the repetition and how the words modified by it kind of built up on itself. It makes me think of how it would be to try this with other words, I think it is a powerful way to write.
Thank you again! Yes, I think deliberate repetition can be very powerful. I had to really play around with this to decide when and how to get it to fit into the 44-word format.
The sea does not go easy on those who sail or those who wait. (K)
No, it doesn’t. Thank you, Kerfe.
Nicely done poem.
Thank you!
I love how you’ve managed to incorporate so many uses for the word ‘stone’ here, Merril, from the stone’s toss to the stone-faced gods to the stone-cold hearts of those still yearning. The sea can be cruel at times!
Thank you so much, Ingrid.
Yes, you’re right about the sea–beautiful and life-giver, but cruel, as well.
To stoic and headstrong like a stone , takes guts!
To be stoic and headstrong like a stone , takes guts!
Yes, just so. Thank you!
Great atmosphere -the vain hope, the unforgiving sea, the spirits of unfortunate souls. Your tableau is so beautifully expressed.
Thank you so much!
Merril,
Your story stokes a storming in my stomach.
❤
David
Thank you, Dave–I think? 😀
😀 yes, it’s a good thing!
Then, thank you again! 😀
Oh, and sorry. I accidentally shortened David to Dave. It’s still very early here, and I was kept awake much of the night by thunderstorms.
s’OK – I’m just thankful when people don’t call me ‘ben’ (even though that is entirely my fault!)
😀
David
😀
You have caught the awesome waiting so well
Thank you very much, Derrick.
My immediate thought on seeing the Winslow painting was how small and storm-tossed the schooner looks. When I read the poem, it brought to mind the widow’s walks on old houses in New England seacoast towns. When my mother told me what a widow’s walk was when I was little, it made a big impression. I thought it was for the residents of the house to climb up and have fun. Your quadrille very effectively conveys the agony of the wait for women whose men loved the sea.
Thank you very much, Liz.
I suppose the Winslow Homer does make one think of New England and widow’s walks–and I did think of that. But I also thought of women throughout time and in many places (including the movie Atlantique where male migrants from Dakar are shipwrecked and their spirits come back.).
I hadn’t heard of Antlantique. I just looked it up. It sounds very good.
You know I tend to watch the non-mainstream movies. 😏
Yep! 😀
😀
“where stoic women wait” places this both in real time and in deep myth. Man, I love poets.
Thank you so much. I love that–just what I wanted, to cover a multiplicity of times and places.
Very evocative of the stern realities the sea imposes on those who followed it for a living, and the beauty, terror and consequences for the men and women painted here..
Thank you very much!
what a wonderful read – wordsmithing in stones!
“beseeching gods of stone-face
for their men’s grace.”
this is like a modern version of Kipling’s “harp song of the Dane women”
Thank you so much, Laura! 💙
Another mic drop.
Thank you so much!
I love the imagery of the poem and seeing vividly the stone’s toss and the women’s gaze at the distant ship. Lovely choices or words, Merril!
Thank you very much, Miriam!
You’re welcome, Merril!
As a sailor’s wife I can tell you, Merril, this was gut wrenching.
Oh! I hope this didn’t hit too close.
Such beautiful imagery here
Thank you so much!
A chilling scene often played out in years past..
Thank you, Ken. The present, too.
This poem conjures up so much emotion…stormy seas, shipwrecks, those who never return home. It is not a long poem, and yet it creates a vision; we feel the peril of storm-churned waves and ultimate heartbreak.
What a lovely, thoughtful comment, Linda. Thank you so much!
well stone the crows, you described the life of fisher people well!
Thank you!🤣
I love the many uses of the word Stone. It must have been horrid, being a sailor’s wife, back in the day (not that today is much better but the ships are not the same) 🙂
Thank you very much! 😀
I think the modern day equivalent might be people waiting to hear news from loved ones who have gone off somewhere undocumented.
🙂
You’re probably right!
I mentioned in a couple of comments the movie we saw called Atlantique (or Atlantics) about migrants leaving Dakur who get shipwrecked, and their ghosts return.
Ooh… Might have to check it out.
I think it was on Netflix. We saw it last year, I think.
I’ll have to look for it.
😀
Having just recently returned from Provincetown, your poem calls to mind the more-than-live-sized black and white weathered portraits of several Portugese older women. They’re on the sides of a building next to the wharf and seen by all on the ferries that come in to Provincetown a number of times each day during the tourist season. They are the artist’s tribute to the women who waited for their fishermen husbands. Not only the sea men had it rough with the seas, the wives and family members shivered with each approaching storm, hoping their husbands/fathers returned to them.
Thank you, Lillian. I’m glad my words made you think of those portraits. 😀
Painting is awesome and you really write a beautiful poem.
Thank you very much!
Mine pleasure.