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Tammy Boehm Oct 2013
In the solace
Drifting transient
Before the dawn
Quiet light
Scattered sentient thoughts
Dreams lift on gossamer wings
Effervesce on heady winds
Like milkweed fluff on a summer day
From the narrow path
I stray

Lost in thoughts
Consuming
Stones thrown from distant shores
Placid surface
Fractured
This undertow defines my mind
Spinning evidence of chaos
Purpose slips away
From the narrow path
I stray
  
Fogbound vessel
Aimless deadwood
On a restless sea
Storm tossed
Lost and anchorless
Victimized by riptides and eddies
Uncharted course each sunless day
From the narrow path
I stray

TL Boehm 040508
This is about the spiritual and not physical intent. I am guilty of the random "Godpoem"
YAYATHI Jun 2019
Abandoned at a sandy beach,
Bleeding sunlight through the countless cracks,
I , a lone catamaran,
Stared at the infinite ocean.

The sun is coming down.
The seagulls are flying to eternity.
The lighthouse far away has started blinking
And the winds are returning home.

Gone are the days of stormy adventures.
So, are the laughters on the day of good catch.
I miss the uncertainties of tempest,
And the ballads of ******.

A sunset is the most poignant moment in the life.
All your memories out there to enchant you,
Life is all frolicking around you,
And you stare soulless, into a receding red ball.

I yearn to break free of this inaction
Push away the stack of stones holding me back.
And glide down the wet slippery sands
Out into the frothing foam of life.

Let me float anchorless where the ocean takes me.
Let the storm toss me up in the air
Let the waves batter my hull
Let me capsize in the blue salt water.

And then.... there would be peace.
Its monsoon in my part of the world. One day during my morning stroll I saw this catamaran parked ashore. It oozed solitude and melancholy

The next day I saw that the wild sea has taken it and  it had capsized and was being tossed around in the waves. A sudden sense of empathy gripped me
Becca Nov 2013
When luxury is 3 walls,
cement.
Too high to reach, too sheer to climb
Waist high rail with a metal fence
Assuring you don’t,
What?
Jump
Fly
Maybe now I understand.

When release is paper you can’t see
Sitting in the down-
pour with the dark,
wishing you had one person.
One soul there,
In your space that you share

Two others unconnected.
Friendly
But so **** distant, washing
sheets in desperate attempts to quell
all that leaking in your stomach.
In your throat
In your mind
Twisting deeper every night
The uncertainty, the **** sinking in your gut
And you can’t even make it
prose.

Playing god
Playing maker
Playing yourself
Or this self
Who is,
Or is not
The person you are,
Or might be.

Anchorless
Without one to soothe,
one to help you
Remember

That yes
I am.
Yes, there are people
Who would choose me
Over you
At any time.
You don’t even think,
because you don’t know if it’s true anymore
And how could anyone care
Enough about you
To care
To care
To care

About what?

The words steal
themselves from you.
Your mind is blank
You play at poet
Play at person
And you can’t get either right
But in the end
Does it matter
If no one knows you well enough
To see the façade fall
Spike Harper Oct 2016
We all have those that ground us.
Make us tangible.
There to remind that the blood that sometimes.
Spills.
Is infinitely finite.
And when they fall away.
Leaving you.
Floating.
Anchorless.
Inches from the ground.
But having neglected certain skills for so long.
Finding meaning to make landfall.
Is not a destination at all.
Nor searching for things that fiegn permanence.
The air has become frigid over the years.
One must adjust.
Or lose more than imagination.
Ever dared.

— The End —