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DarkSkysRisingPoems
I tried to hold the ocean near, It whispered soft, then pulled, sincere The waves were kind, the tide a friend, A gentle sway that seemed to mend. I laughed, I floated, light and free, Its arms like silk surrounding me. I thought I could trust, thought it was mine, A calm embrace, a place to shine. But currents shifted, shadows grew, The whispers darkened, cold winds blew. It ****** me in, then spat me out, Again, again— I feared, I doubt. For fleeting moments, the water calmed, And I felt safe, my heart was warmed. I trusted it, I leaned, I stayed, Believing pain could somehow fade. A ripple stirred, a shadow passed, The gentle sea would never last. Waves twisted, darkened, cold and sly, A whisper of danger, a muted cry. I cant hold on, though I reach wide, Grasping for rocks where I can hide. A solid shore, a steady hand, Something I thought I might withstand. But even stone is slick and cold, The ocean drags me, uncontrolled. The tide that soothed became a gun, It struck, it roared, it weighed a ton. I could not leave, though pain was clear, The ocean’s grasp pulled me near. A gentle world now torn and wild, I float alone, the ocean’s child A tranquil home turned violent, deep, It drags me down, I cannot sleep Beauty dissolved into jagged foam, The sea, once kind, became my tomb. For a moment, the waters still, A fragile peace, a fleeting thrill. I felt held, almost complete, The tide receded— cold, discreet. It spat me out, Abrupt, controlled I tumbled alone where the waters rolled. A part of me wished it would return, A siren call I knew I must spurn. And now I drift where waves have ceased, A hollow calm, a broken peace. I watch the horizon, tense with ache, Drawn to the pull I cannot break. I try to mend, to patch what’s torn, But every lull feels bruised and worn. The ache remains, the doubt still feeds, What if the tide returns with greed? Phantom currents curl in my mind, Imaginary waves that pull, confine I reach for something, anything to hold, But the ocean is gone— its story cold. And if it returns, will I cry for help, Accept my fate, or leap without doubt? Will I be strong, or slip once more, Back to the tide I once adored?
0
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 11:11 AM UTC
Maelstrom’s Child: Between the Waves
I tried to hold the ocean near, It whispered soft, then pulled, sincere The waves were kind, the tide a friend, A gentle sway that seemed to mend. I laughed, I floated, light and free, Its arms like silk surrounding me. I thought I could trust, thought it was mine, A calm embrace, a place to shine. But currents shifted, shadows grew, The whispers darkened, cold winds blew. It ****** me in, then spat me out, Again, again— I feared, I doubt. For fleeting moments, the water calmed, And I felt safe, my heart was warmed. I trusted it, I leaned, I stayed, Believing pain could somehow fade. A ripple stirred, a shadow passed, The gentle sea would never last. Waves twisted, darkened, cold and sly, A whisper of danger, a muted cry. I cant hold on, though I reach wide, Grasping for rocks where I can hide. A solid shore, a steady hand, Something I thought I might withstand. But even stone is slick and cold, The ocean drags me, uncontrolled. The tide that soothed became a gun, It struck, it roared, it weighed a ton. I could not leave, though pain was clear, The ocean’s grasp pulled me near. A gentle world now torn and wild, I float alone, the ocean’s child A tranquil home turned violent, deep, It drags me down, I cannot sleep Beauty dissolved into jagged foam, The sea, once kind, became my tomb. For a moment, the waters still, A fragile peace, a fleeting thrill. I felt held, almost complete, The tide receded— cold, discreet. It spat me out, Abrupt, controlled I tumbled alone where the waters rolled. A part of me wished it would return, A siren call I knew I must spurn. And now I drift where waves have ceased, A hollow calm, a broken peace. I watch the horizon, tense with ache, Drawn to the pull I cannot break. I try to mend, to patch what’s torn, But every lull feels bruised and worn. The ache remains, the doubt still feeds, What if the tide returns with greed? Phantom currents curl in my mind, Imaginary waves that pull, confine I reach for something, anything to hold, But the ocean is gone— its story cold. And if it returns, will I cry for help, Accept my fate, or leap without doubt? Will I be strong, or slip once more, Back to the tide I once adored?
DarkSkysRising
Written by
DarkSkysRising
122/F
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 11:11 AM UTC
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