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Hi Paul:

Greetings from Manhattan. About ten years ago, on a warm summer night, I was walking along the beach, south of the Ocean Grove fishing pier, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere, when the mood of the shore suddenly changed to something quite different. Here is the poem, “Bradley Beach at Midnight,” from my 2008 collection, Father of Water.

Best wishes,
Charles Pierre

Ocean Grove looking towards Bradley Beach. June 28, 2015. By Paul Goldfinger ©

Ocean Grove looking towards Bradley Beach. June 28, 2015. By Paul Goldfinger ©. Click to enlarge.

“Bradley Beach at Midnight”

By Charles Pierre.

The whispering sounds of water beneath the moon
are those of an ocean at rest, turning in its bed.
There’s an evenness in the white sheets of foam
that cover then expose the shore at this quiet hour.
The day’s winds have slackened to muted breezes,
and the choppy whitecaps have flattened to a long
undulant roll to the horizon, the black span glazed
with a wide silver swath. At a nearby jetty,
where blocks of granite extend into the mild runs
of surf, there’s a small gap between two great stones.
As the sea slides in, an unseen force drives it up
into a unruly fountain that disturbs the shore’s lull
with loud pulsing jets, taunting the moonlit sky,
collapsing to a spurt, but replenishing itself again
and again from the steady inflow of calm waves,
calling with throaty gouts of spray that peace
is brief, that the ocean seldom rests from surging,
its song a protest against the night’s silence.


VIENNA PHILHARMONIC. “soave sia il vento”  From Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte.  (“May the breeze that carries you on your journey be a gentle one.”)


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