Ho yes, this poem is delightful and so emotion- and thought-provoking. The driftwood is a metaphor for a person; but after going into that drama, then the actual language of the lines takes me on my own sort of trip. I just loved it. This sort of poem is sort of ride and you get off feeling sort of satisfied!
We are all an island and/or a drifter in a sense.
This reads like a feather floating here and there. I mean that in a good way.
I like the contrast of pirates and halos. Something I would never have thought of or imagine together.
In my own interpretation, I see this as someone (a loner?) drifting through life, taking things as it comes and accepting it as fate. Any attempt to converse with real life stings so they crawl back into a corner. Feeling undeserving of any real (or positive) attention.
Funny how people interpret things in their own individual way huh? I'm sure I'm way off base with your own thoughts while writing.
Nonetheless... I really like this.
Let me be completely honest with you here. I've glanced through a few of your poems and there are two reasons why I've picked this one to comment on:
1) You mention 'Pirates'
2) I'm enjoying a nautical feel to my own writng at the moment, so I liked this piece simply because it shares similar elements.
Right, now that we've got that out the way, let me continue with my comment. The underlying themes to this piece are what impacted on me the most: the almost helpess feel to it; the drifting, alone and unnoticed, in an 'unfriendly' sea; the sting of the push and pull of the water being an unwanted and unasked for intrusion to you. I like the whole desolate, lost feel, and I think you convey those two elements very well. There are some great images, too - the sea foam halo being one that comes to mind immediately. Wonderful stuff. In fact, the more I read the poem, the more I'm getting out of it. It's an Onion poem. There are more layers than you at first realise.
There are only two things I'm going to complain about. First, the inconsistency of capitalisation. Personally, I don't really much bother for strict grammar in poetry. I think freedom is important in this particular form of writing, and such rules prevent that from developing. But I do find your unpredictable capitalisation or non-capitalisation of certain words a little distracting. It pulled me away from the piece a few of times. Remember, this is merely my personal experience. Second, and again it's a personal thing, but the Sea of Fate part didn't sit right with me. Maybe it felt too easy, or maybe it's such an overused and yet unexplored theory of thought that I find it difficult to put on credence to it, I'm not sure. But really, out of a whole poem and those two things being my only gripes, that's pretty damn good.
In fact, I'm going to fave it.
Keep on writing stuff like this, and I'll come back and read it.
I think this is really banging, the phrasing is like a trip over to the west coast of NZ where every corner has a bit of character and leads you onto the next sight that you knew but didn't know how to find.
The close was a little unsatisfying although I think you are in the right area.
I think all that's required is a little refinement of that last phrasing and a slight turning of the idea. I like the idea that the sea cannot distinguish between flesh and wood.
Forgive me if this sounds critical or pushes unwelcome advice your way.
This is successful with me! Because I grew up an islander and your words made me smell the sea and hear breakers on a reef.
We seem to be old friends, because I've often seen you, just as described, floating past a ship or pushed up the beach and the sea foam halo always there too.
I'm learning something from the way there's a strange half-image, an emerging then vanishing mermaid or drowned girl, a glimpse below the foamy surface into dark caves (... I've seen them too. They just have eels in them.)
The hidden rhyming, I also admire. That is kinda brilliant, whether deliberate or not.
Very well done. You have a very distict voice in this peice. You seemed to relate to both an island alone in the vastness of the sea and a wood floating adrift near the end. I must admit that I was abit thrown off by this. Perhaps there was something I missed but nevertheless, you've done a terrific job. Take care.