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Gemini Sep 2018
The ocean –
consists of a large mass of water.

It’s Salt Water.

Swallow and it slowly eats away at your sanity.

It’s Deadly.

To an open wound – a scrape, a cut – it does miracles.

It Purifies –

it’s Terrifying.

The power to destroy,
the power to cleanse.

A medicine?
A poison?

Who cares…

To heal memories troubling hearts and skin.
To free even the most complicated of minds.

To steal lives in instant, violent ways.
To steal everything you love right from your hands.

It's Cruel.

It's Beautiful.
Was a short story that I started playing with and... well... ended up making it a lottt shorter.
Emily Williams Jul 2018
You know when you stand at the edge of the water, feet in sand. Letting the water wash over your feet making you sink in the sand a little more each time. When we are little we make a game out of it. Running away from the waves as they try to catch you. But now we welcome it. Wanting the relaxing repetitiveness of it. Then walking further in. One step at a time. Apprehensive at first as it is so cold. Waves crashing higher than you want because you're scared. You keep going because eventually it becomes colder outside of the water than in. Finally you can't touch the bottom anymore and you have to decide if you want to keep swimming and explore the wonders of the ocean or go back to the shore where you know it is safe. You may not know what's beyond the horizon or under the surface of the water but you know there is more there than what meets the eye. Swimming further in you realize you are surrounded by water. Peacefully floating and letting the water guide you occasionally wash over you. Knowing wonders lay beneath you. Finding things you thought could never exist. Wanting to go deeper. Learning new beauties but you can only hold your breath for so long. Seeing somethings you can't unsee. Dark scary things that make you question if you should stay or go in another ocean again. It can be terrifying to find something that makes you question your love of the ocean and everything wonderful in it. I guess that is why we stay near shore. Never getting lost at sea.
Thom Jamieson Jul 2018
"Over here"...
but nothing.
The scene continues
unabated by my presence.
Plastic smiles and lustful eyes
bountiful but not for me..never me.
In the mirror' s unforgiving gaze
I am unrecognizable
Replaced with a crude rendering
of my previous likeness
fashioned by children
with lumpy imperfect clay.
Silence replaces loving laughter
that used to follow my witty banter.
Silence and stares.  Sympathetic stares
tinged with smugness and fear.
"Over here...over here..."
still nothing.
I recently received a message from a composer named joe drzewiecki who was interested in putting this poem to music.  Here are the results.  I didnt know my words could sound so good. Thank you joe drzewiecki, I am flattered.

https://soundcloud.com/jomama-2/invisible
Kewayne Wadley Apr 2018
When the tide was high
I loved to hang over the edge.
Rising and falling.
The gap widening then closing.
No longer visible to shore.
I'd lean over.
The wind thumping me in the chest.
My lips peeled in joy.
Well conditioned hair.
My fingers lost in wave after wave.
The sails filled in a gust.
My fingers folded between the current.
I a stow away.
Finding my way to the helm.
My hand lost in a sea of hair.
Sailing towards the horizon
Kewayne Wadley Nov 2017
In the swift wind.
My hands set sail in a vast
Emptiness.
Weary feet pointed left.
My heart steadfast to the right.
Her heart wild as the wind.
I sailed beside her.

Capsizing in her silk wave.
She was far from quiet, an abundance of thoughts. Opinionated from one wave to the next.
Without a single struggle.
I sank.

I left my supplies by the mast.
Becoming easier to swallow.
Everything scattered.
Topsy turvy in fascination.
She kissed me and I never looked back.
Crooked Youth Aug 2015
My mind is lost.
Stranded deep within an ocean swimming with Sharks.

I am out of my depth.
Submerged within the infinite abyss that is my own doubt.

I'm drowning in my sorrow.

Torrential waves of judgement rain down upon me,

I blame myself.

For I am a Tempest,
And I deserve no less.

Eqrilibrium restored.

I ride the tides to wash ashore upon the banks of my self assurance.

Oh, what lies I tell myself.

This island of solitude
Is a frightening place.

But its where I belong...

Because I cast them all away,
So here I remain. Alone.

A 'Castaway'.

— The End —