#540
i can’t stop speaking of the ocean,
of her winds and her waves,
the curves, and crescents,
the wisdom, and grace,
oh the long nights,
and starlights,
how i miss the way she swayed,
a soft touch,
a swift kiss,
oh to sea it all again.
#541
In the fog, that candle,
that lantern, that sign,
when the compass has broken,
and the echoes disorientate,
may the light guide.
#542
Maybe i’ll polish something old,
a memory, a feeling,
something faded, something once bright,
maybe it will warm my face,
warm the page, breath life into
the overcast blanketing behind my eyes,
maybe today, i’ll fix it.
#543
You know that
it’s ridiculous,
that it needn’t
have fallen,
broken, and busted,
you know that
i know that,
that your carelessness
has caused this
that if you can’t tell
than time will,
that the time went
well wasted,
and that the cause of it,
was you, yourself.
#544
When the day is the late
and the minute’s move
like a needle that stitches
and tears, wounds without warning,
sowing away tears,
tugging at sobs,
neither nighttime,
nor daylight,
can stop the constant spin,
just sighing, and breathing,
as you let the ending begin.
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Don’t forget to check out the poems being recited on The Write Stuff podcast!
Take care, call your family, tell them you love them.
wazoo!
-Mr. Write