Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Dream Fisher May 31
I wrote something I couldn't share
I put it in a special place
And hidden, let it die there,
Just like him, just like me.
That worst case scenario they'll never see
The darkest demons don't need light
To make you see their light of day,
So I took them from within me
Riped them out and locked them in a box
Without a single key and drowned them
In a pool the kids use to play.
Now all that's talked of there
Is an accident then conversation fades.

Like oysters reading words,
I could be a carpenter building herds
To come and read the writs I wrote
Until all eaten on a solemn note.
All those moons ago
I plucked a stone from shore
and whispered my intention
with each waxing and waning.
I took it back to the sound today,
intending to sing a final goodbye
before casting it far into the waves.
It sparkled in the spring sun
then slipped from my fingers
into the sludgy low-tide pool
of barnacles and gooeyducks.
I simply walked away
and watched the gulls drop oysters,
fighting over what belongs to whom.

The waves will carry the stone to sea
the same way the green has returned
like the green in me.
A gentle and abrupt easing -
A slip out to sea with the tide.

Must have a goal
Go get that thing
What if I want
To stop and sing

Retreat inside
Wait out the storm

Else feel the wrath
Of nature scorned

Instead a kid
I wish to be
To feel alive
And so carefree

Each drip, each drop
Upon my head
Wish I could splash
In rain instead

I'd watch the sky
Explode with light
A warming joy
Not filled with fright

When did I lose
Sight of it all
Pattern I fall

Start living in
Every moment
Past and future
Wasted and spent

Granted a new
Chance I'm given
Can not redo
But start living

Each day awake
Fresh start; Can be

World's my oyster
Alive and free
Written: July 14, 2018

All rights reserved.
irises Mar 2018
the world is
my oyster
they say.
why has my life
produced no pearls?
only tears
and gritty sand
polluting the land
around me.
df Dec 2017
the world may be your oyster,
but keep in mind that some of us are allergic to shellfish.

{d.f. | 12/07/17}
Alienpoet Oct 2017
I feel a completeness in staring into your eyes
That I don't feel when I am alone
I grasp for meaning in a daydreaming world
My mind opens like an oyster
and you are my pearl
a beautiful agony unfurls
in missing you and your words
and touch.
I miss you so much
but I want wholeness
in my own skin
but it rings thin
because is it narcissism?
To look beyond the chasm
the void of our own soul
and yet romantic love is being in love
with what someone is that we haven't got
and yet we don't care a jot
for love is creation I care deeply and a lot
for what you have and what I haven't got.
Rose Dec 2015
Cutting my hands on shells
And trying to turn sand to pearls.
Loving you

Is stepping bare
Into a gelid, briny river
With an oyster bed floor.
Silverflame Jun 2017
it’s like i’m trapped inside of an oyster
hidden away from the world;
except i am not a precious pearl
waiting to be found
James Gable Jun 2016

When it’s all over
forget about courtesy,
grab hold off a shooting star
and ride it all the way
until the photons say the
last word with a pulse of light

The man is no longer doubled over and
Observable from the window
As a result of his fifty-eight years
the equation of his life
All comes to zero
Whilst the mocking ticking and tocking
Of an old clock knocking minutes like
Nails into the wall—

He disappeared in a puff of smoke,
The ice in his glass melted and the woman picked it up,
Drinking it in a single gulp, the glass comes down as if
Magnetically drawn to the floor, the floor,
Where she lies silently and stretches her body
To get some release, she rubs her face against
The carpet, nothing matters except the next second,
Eyes, behind a blink or two, dart to another part of the empty room
She couldn’t think any further ahead than a second at all

And the zodiac crashed open
the ram sent stars flying
the crab snipped the string that suspended the stars
mars took some flak
and finally the sun was burst
by the horned goat
and aquarius held it
like the final fluid sphere

Stars, burning across the sky like the striking of a match
Those wishing on shooting stars
couldn’t decide what they wanted
many of them flying as there were

As well-known monsters
Weighed down by human hope,
clear out our night sky,
Leaving not a freckle to observe
Telescopes now point into bedroom windows
Shadows portray a sort of life,
Shadow puppets depict death through
Tragedy and lapses in timekeeping and
Obsessions with vanity

Life spends some empty second
Inside your lungs,
Continues on it’s way
To resuscitate a slowly fading knife attack victim
Or shake the hand of a minute,
Time is ticking laboriously by

The light, motherless and lost,
Spat out at as the sun was burst,
It looks up to see
the unveiling of the universe,

the oyster swallowed the sea.

*—I didn’t want to be a poet by any means. After what happened working on the lifeboats I couldn’t go near the sea, so in a way I chose which parts of it I wanted and wrote about them. It terrifies me and fascinates me at the same time. I fully believe I will return to it only as ash...
Part Nine (3) of The Man Who Longed to be an Oyster
James Gable Jun 2016
a series of quatrains*

Anchor’s bound for hell as it falls
Sadly I watch the fast rope slip
It is gone, I need a strong sip
From a sailor’s bottle, land calls

In a boat, earth and moon move you
these deceptive cargo ships hide
the stash of smugglers, I choose
To rock back and forth with the tide

Such fearless ships save lives at night
and daytime too but not for thanks
for it also ferries heartbreak
when lovers part on boarding planks

A message in a bottle lost
was found on a cold Cornish coast
The message read “darling please
know my love will swim across seas”

I daren’t live by sea much longer
Oh! what I’ve seen, fear gets stronger
with every lapping slurp I hear:
the drowned whispering in my ear

Once I fished in this bay of shells
My line was frayed from reeling sharks
A blue whale fought me three miles out
In his bowel I awoke at last

Boat or ship? For now ‘ships’ they fly
A rocking chair, without duty
They float, enchant, sink but don’t cry
shipwrecks are a thing of beauty
Part Five of The Man Who Longed to be an Oyster
Next page