Can the ocean really get flooded?.
when the ocean in my brain gets flooded ......
my thoughts are tangled up
in the tornado twisting and turning
in my head surrounding my brain that fight
through the tossing thoughts, emotions and
feelings that my lips may have trouble speaking
my pen is the oar I use to pull my drowning soul
out from the troubles waters
The ship wreck of words sail through
the rough thinking waters running fast
causing a whirlpool headache as they
fight pushing and clawing at my brain walls
yet surviving thoughts that were able to brake
free from the storm of depression they smudge
a trail through the dripping wet ink falling from
my oar of a writing pen dragging behind the
clustering drift wood of lost words smearing
through the lines of the solid land of paper
my brain calms down a bit to inspect the
rest stop of provided free range of open
writing space clearing the way for all the
injured broken pieces of memories and
lost thoughts that were still floating behind
the mind is trying to stay focus by thinking,
searching for any surviving notions or ideas
that hangs there on the tip of my tongue
tossing out the remembering lifesavers to
pull in other surfacing thoughts that wants
and need to be revived from the fallen debris
clustered crews of gathered thoughts form as
my pen holds the ink of hope and inspiration
dragging my down confused depressed soul
to safety by writing my trapped untold story
ink its flowing through the valleys of paper
marking detailing the saved unspoken words
freed from the clutches of depressions prison
my brain can now release its story through my
scrawling pen that I hold in my writing hand
There are always traps of frustration, confusion and
depression; which is the worse pitfall of them all
the war from the thinking process is never over
preparing for their battle I take the action to grab
the already loaded weapon for writing; the "INK PEN"
Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 12:27 PM UTC
Can the ocean really get flooded?.
when the ocean in my brain gets flooded ......
my thoughts are tangled up
in the tornado twisting and turning
in my head surrounding my brain that fight
through the tossing thoughts, emotions and
feelings that my lips may have trouble speaking
my pen is the oar I use to pull my drowning soul
out from the troubles waters
The ship wreck of words sail through
the rough thinking waters running fast
causing a whirlpool headache as they
fight pushing and clawing at my brain walls
yet surviving thoughts that were able to brake
free from the storm of depression they smudge
a trail through the dripping wet ink falling from
my oar of a writing pen dragging behind the
clustering drift wood of lost words smearing
through the lines of the solid land of paper
my brain calms down a bit to inspect the
rest stop of provided free range of open
writing space clearing the way for all the
injured broken pieces of memories and
lost thoughts that were still floating behind
the mind is trying to stay focus by thinking,
searching for any surviving notions or ideas
that hangs there on the tip of my tongue
tossing out the remembering lifesavers to
pull in other surfacing thoughts that wants
and need to be revived from the fallen debris
clustered crews of gathered thoughts form as
my pen holds the ink of hope and inspiration
dragging my down confused depressed soul
to safety by writing my trapped untold story
ink its flowing through the valleys of paper
marking detailing the saved unspoken words
freed from the clutches of depressions prison
my brain can now release its story through my
scrawling pen that I hold in my writing hand
There are always traps of frustration, confusion and
depression; which is the worse pitfall of them all
the war from the thinking process is never over
preparing for their battle I take the action to grab
the already loaded weapon for writing; the "INK PEN"
Request permission to use this poem