At the Edge of Earth and Ocean

Greetings all, Following weeks of exploring my trek through Celtic Folklore, I have decided to end any further move into folklore for poetry at this point in time. Having laid all that aside, Today’s Poem has a special treat _{(for me mostly so.)} I am composing a poem that struck me on a recent day out and composed the first of what will be 3 very different styles. But the poem will be pretty much the same.

The Challenge: Compose a poem in the 3 styles that I have composed over the past while. A love Poem where the Love is Nature. Take sight, sound and all that is seen and felt to create a love poem, without mention of any name of where or what. Like Wildlife or buildings or rocks etc.

The style, For Today’s Poem which is in Aa Bb, with Alliteration, assonance and all the poetic dressing that I was able to bring into this poem, without disturbing the flow etc of the poem. No overdressed Words or lines that do not have a part in the poem. In the coming weeks, the Styles will be Free Verse and a Combination of Free Verse and a Little of Aa Bb style.

When I need time, space and all that brings, I go to one of a number of places. But on this occasion I went to one spot, which is a common haunt for me. A most beautiful place that bings the feeling that we are on the edge of no where and every where and yet all places at once. A place that calms me and brings peace to my soul. Today’s poem was brought out of this area and my hope is that readers will honestly enjoy this. I welcome any feeback on Today’s Poem in the comments.

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At the Edge of Earth and Ocean 





Soft strokes that strike my upturned face,
And thread through every tangled trace
Of strands that fall or freely fly,
You brush me past, you pass me by.




A golden glow that gathers near,
To chase the chill and make it clear,
A force that bends the blades that lean
Wherever your bright breath has been.



Soft shapes that sail on unseen streams,
With wings that weave through day and dreams,
No hurried haste, no harsh demand,
Just grace that settles on the land.



A rushing roar that races round,
Yet leaves no word, no uttered sound,
It slips past where the senses lean,
But one deep note cuts clear and clean.



From heights where only strong winds climb,
I see the whole wide world in time,
Where ancient spines of stone extend
To where the blue and white contend.



Far down the slope where soft sands sleep,
One burning eye does watch and keep
The line where wild waves wake and weep,
A constant flame, a promise deep.



White fury flies from blackened sides,
Where strength meets force, where pride abides,
Each blow that beats, each burst that breaks,
The very bedrock softly shakes.



It falls away, it flees and flows,
Yet every absence deeper grows,
It pulls away to pull back near,
Until the line has disappeared.



Where blue turns grey and grey turns gold,
And every hue of heaven glows,
No single shade can hold the sight,
For you are all, and all is light.



Where carved in stone, the stories stand,
Of things long passed, of lives once planned,
You guard the grief, you hold the grace,
And give each ghost a holy place.



Through thickest haze and tearing spray,
One steady flame points out the way,
It never bows, it never bends,
Beyond the storms, beyond the ends.



So here I stand where earth meets ocean,
With all you give and all I keep,
No words can weigh, no mind can measure,
You are my life, my love, my treasure.








Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald 
All Rights Reserved 

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Author:

Thank you for joining me on this journey of writing and discovery. Poetry, for me, is a continuous learning process. A way of finding my own voice and writing style and exploring the beauty of words.

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