All along the shallow bay, a crescently shaped
boomerang, stones
cobble with algae ribbons & shells
dot the drying sand, marking edge &
ebb. Detaching their wings
from the white-gray sky & appearing at the falling tide
gulls circle this graveyard of miniature
headstones, small as children's,
inscriptions smoothed to blankness by the sea
just as earthly graves are made anonymous by rain. I tread carefully,
knowing this. Knowing this &
laughing their
metallic laugh, the trilling gulls could not care less.
Nothing is held sacredly in this hierarchy, in this
oceanic
purgatory.
Quahogs are made for eating, not for
reverence, I hear them taunting me, they
squawk at me & gawk at me, my eyes turned downward
toward the tombstones lying plotlessly & jumbled on the
umber sand.
Vicious and vengeful the
white angels circle, crying war while their atomic yellow
x-ray eyes see all. They do the necessary
yeoman's work and leave the theoretical
zealotry to me.
About the Creator
Ava Mack
Reader insights
Outstanding
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Top insights
Excellent storytelling
Original narrative & well developed characters
Compelling and original writing
Creative use of language & vocab
Eye opening
Niche topic & fresh perspectives
Expert insights and opinions
Arguments were carefully researched and presented
On-point and relevant
Writing reflected the title & theme
Heartfelt and relatable
The story invoked strong personal emotions
Masterful proofreading
Zero grammar & spelling mistakes
Easy to read and follow
Well-structured & engaging content
Red Shelves
Death is a black hole. Think about it. A black hole is the corpse of a star, something once warm and bright, now come to the end of its life cycle. But some will argue that the cycle of life does not end with death. That death is merely another path we must walk once our bodies expire and our souls ascend. In that moment, when the fuel in the star’s chemical tank hits empty and the shiny matte coat explodes into supernova, the mass left behind – the corpse – becomes a black hole. We understand that, around such a vast cadaver, dimensions work a little differently in death to the way we’re used to in life. For example, light cannot escape the pull of a black hole when it hits the point of no return. That’s where it gets its colour. Space itself is contorted by a black hole. That’s where it gets its funny shape. Even time. Time slows right down the closer you get to it. The closer you get to a black hole. The closer you get to death.
By Matthew Curtis6 days ago in Humans
Comments (29)
Congrats on Top Story!🥳
This was a stunning read. Brilliant interplay between the speaker and the birds, “Nothing is held sacredly in this hierarchy, in this oceanic purgatory.” is a wonderful line, and illustrates the truth of life at sea. Amazing! 👏🏾
I loved the linking of the beach stones to tombstones. Beautiful.
Congratulations!! Your talent is incredible!!
Back again to say congrats!! Very well deserved!
Incredible work! Such awesome imagery and beautiful turns of phrase...Congrats on the recognition!!
This is wonderful!
Well-deserved congratulations for your work—keep it up!
Congrats on the Top Story! Well-deserved. This was a beautiful poem.
Congratulations on Top Story? I have always wondered if there is a Bottom Story, lol!
This is beautifully written about a favourite place of mine… “ cobble with algae ribbons & shells dot the drying sand, marking edge & ebb.” I love the beauty of the beach.
This is gorgeous, well done!
Well...my abecedarians officially suck. Thanks Ava...hahaha! Seriously, though...this is stunning. I loved the thoughts about gulls and like Rachel...I often think of their "metallic laugh" as you so perfectly called it. Wonderful work and congrats on a fine Top Story! Glad Stephen highlighted it...cos I saw it come up on my notifications but then old man brain forgot about it!
I think this might be the best abecedarian I've read so far for this challenge. It was really evocative. I often think about the gulls and their noises as they reel about above you, sort of mocking or taunting. This really resonated for me. I felt sorry for clams. That takes some doing.
this poem reminds me of home. really well done!
Brilliant work here...!
Amazing. Congratulations on your top story.
Just when I think that I have read them all, this gem falls into Too Story and gives one more fascinating poem to read. Congratulations
This is so gorgeous - congratulations on Top Story!! 💕
Wow loved this
Your word choice in this is a work of art! Loved it!
Congrats on the TS.
Fabulous insight and imagery. 🥰
This is so amazing, Ava. A meditation on life's sacredness...via clam shells on the beach. So beautiful, sad, even slightly cynical. The speaker's self-awareness here is my favorite part. If I quoted my favored lines, I think it would end up being the entire poem. Well done on this entry! I do hope it places. (Internally, I am echoing Stephen 100%.)
Came for the subject, stayed for the imagery. The enjambment with "oceanic purgatory" Plus the alliteration with "Vicious and vengeful" and all the imagery really sold this one for me. Superb execution. I hope it places. And if mine makes it in but yours doesn't, I'm rioting.