I wish my sad was cool
I wish my sad was a day drinker
Beautiful, dried tears crumbling off her cheek
Misty skinned at some glorious dark hour of the morning.
I wish my sad was heartbreaking
Others staring into a globe of poorly hidden injuries
Looking over my bare shoulders to see the balding on my nape.
Instead my sad is a creaking house at night
An unseen **** growing under the boardwalk
I turn my sadness over in my mind
Like I fold my clean washing
I hope one day my sad means more to me.
This poem is about feeling like your emotions are not valid or significant.
The strums of his guitar
fall onto his lap
Trickle down my lobes
a steady dripping tap
When can I be alone?
When am I really by myself?
Even the term 'by myself' implies that you are 'by' something,
Like the self is something external to you.
Someone you can sit next to.
I want to be truly alone, without myself.
I want the wind to brush past unfollowed by thought or recognition.
I want no one to know where I am, even me.
I need to be without myself,
Far away from myself.
I'm just so relentlessly 'there'.
This poem is about the true meaning of being alone, and the relentlessness of existing in a context.
The freckled yellow flowers
Smell like a breath in
Roots braid and knot the ground
Mange begetting rainbows
A thousand leaves palms up to the sun
Indifferent of the rain
Weathered are the paths that led me
To my mother's garden again.
I took time for a walk
And she pulled on the leash
At first, I kept my ground
Heels lifted tip-toeing arm outstretched
Eventually I had to follow my shoulder
She led me past streets and streets
Of large houses full of large people
Symmetrical windows and faces
Coarse grass reached through my shoes
With a slow jog, we came to a field
My feet landing in every crack in the pavement
The sun sat square in the centre of the sky
As we left the sky turned to ocean
Running now through neon and road signs
Swimming in the dark rain
Puddles splash as we pick up the pace
Diverting onto the road
My 20s were a flurry of leaves
On grey morning ground
I know I have much further to go
But. I'm already halfway
My 30s were a sprint
My 40s a still faster walk
50s, 60s, 70s
We finally slow
I wander now
Between each step is an infinity
But each foot fall
Passes in an instant
I walk closer and closer to the evening sun
A shadow extends behind me forever
And the way reaches in front of me even longer
My love is a Wednesday morning
His love is a hug from small hands
But you can't hug a day
And small hands can't cook breakfast
Poseidon reared his unkempt head
Above the waves today
An ocean monster dripped in dread
Chest to chest with the bay
“Today, or any day at all!”
The shore-side heard his plea
Salt shucked shoulders tall as islands small
“No being shall ever challenge me!”
One gull omitted a thoughtful word
Which sounded much like “Rak!”
One offended brow raised at what he heard
Poseidon countered with a slap
Five foul fingers touched the sky
And fell upon the sea
A wave as great as mountains high
Sighed upon the beaches knee
With a drunken beat of lazy wing
The gull escaped his perch
Finding another on which to cling
Without a moment’s search
Fists clenched around the shallows
Poseidon was enraged
With urchin riddled lips pursed he bellowed
And blew the beach away
Up went beachgoers along the coast
Into the sandy storm
Sun chapped mums beginning to roast
Castling children, One man named norm
Gull glided softly on the wind
Providing a flap or two
And to the defeated Poseidon's chagrin
Let out a cantankerous coo
In one last fit of aqueous rage
Posiedon surfaced to land
And in a briny blind rampage
Grabbed the gull with swole hands
Gull in hand Poseidon yelled
“What dare you mean sly poultry?
My kingdom is unparalleled,
All pilgrims seek my choultry”
But the oily gull slipped through his grip
And flew quite far away
And as he watched it dive and dip
He came to see the bay
Debris was strewn across the sand
His subjects were in ruin
Disaster spread across the land
And it was all his doin’
A desperate shade turned Poseidon
As he returned to the great deep
“What use am I as a mighty king
If protection I cannot keep?”
That is how a seagull won
Against The God of Sea
Who forgot about his job, just one,
To keep the big blue world carefree
This poem is a story about Poseidon and a seagull, initial draft