"choppy" poems
you don't understand at all do you
not truly
you think
I'm a liar
that I still hold the knife
that
stabbed you in the back
[and in the heart]
kinda speechless
that you feel that way
think that way
believe it
untrustworthy? misleading?
false emotions?
can you not read?
here let me try again
maybe I can make it like braille
feel the words
it's like when the clouds stormy eyes
welled up and let fall the
tears of weekend rain
soggy, we laughed along with the thunder
and under our waterfall we let the windows
fog
tell me I lied then
or picture if you will
standing by the tree I
always parked by
it was a starry night, but we didn't see it
we were too focused on our faces
except
why is it I was the only one
drowning in the sadness that overtook my eyes
shaking with each strained, choppy breath
clutching that gray shirt like a life jacket
do you think that was all
for show?
haven't you looked at
my collection of black and white
silly letters scribbled down as fast as possible
trying as hard as I can
to leave it all
on the paper
but it's as if each word I write
is a tattoo
slowly invading every part of my skin
it's sinking in, it's staining everything
do you think this agony I speak of
is fake?
if so
if I am that liar with the knife who
led you astray and ******* you over"
let you down, kicked you around
if you can't seem to
open your eyes
and notice
just how much I love you
just how much I always have
then you don't deserve it
ill run miles for you when I know I only
have the strength for one
but don't you
dare
watch me run
if you don't even grasp
that I stabbed myself in the back
led myself astray
you have a right to
hate the wound
but if you can't see
what I feel
one day
I will learn
that I have to let go
and I will
then all these silly letters
all for you
well. go ahead and throw them away
on that day
they will carry no life
anymore
Nov 13, 2011
Nov 13, 2011 at 6:59 PM UTC
My hands have betrayed me.
Once the means to write pages,
Now my hands are only dead weight.
My hands won't pick up a pen.
Or even type short,
Choppy sentences.
They dangle at my sides
And find refuge in my hair,
Leaving me bleeding.
Like my hands,
My mouth has declared itself
My enemy.
Once the passageway for words
To explain myself,
My mouth is now as useful as a broken bridge.
With nothing of value to say,
It talks
And sings anyway.
It opens without my permission
But stays closed whenever I try
To scream meaning.
The inability to illustrate
Or translate my mind
And my soul
Is not an unfamiliar ordeal.
But it's lonely on the outside
And frustrating looking in.
It seems I'll always feel like an alien.
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
*Once there stood a Sailor,
Tall and Bold he was,
Upon the waves was his home,
Eye of the storm he was.
Some called him Charming,
Cindrella was in love,
Sindbad wanted a friend
SnowWhite could'nt succumb.
Jasmine searched the seven seas
To bring him back to ground,
And Alladin pushed him underneath
Hoping he'll fall.
But there stood a Mermaid,
Upon a stubborn rock,
Her eyes were like wet sand
Her nose a pebble soft,
She lured the hearty sailor,
Into the sea so dark,
Hoping he would see a world
Where he never had to stop,
Hoping he would call it home,
His home upon the rocks.
He wore his mighty hat aboard,
Underneath he was at flight,
Fought the world of challenges,
With his awe-some sight,
To all he was a Sailor,
A person in disguise,
Wid arms like boulders
And chest fierce
But light..*
*You would ask
What's their story,
Well here goes,
It might be right,
But Sailor met the Mermaid,
Mermaid fell in love,
Love is what sailed along,
Under the waves of lust,
In a world so arid
It turned hearts dry,
He searched for a place to swim
Where he could also fly,
He swam with the mermaid
Into the glassy ****
Glossy waters
And coral reefs,
After years of gliding by
He decided to stop,
Not to make him stop,
the Mermaid cried a lot..
The sailor found a new place,
A place called a 'Road',
She thought their adventure was over,
And the Sailor was lost,
She tried to tell him,
Asked him to stop,
For she was no longer she,
Plural now she was,
She cudnt tell him
For he was in a hurry,
And about everything
He forgot..
But alas!
Was she happy
She saw the Sailor pray,
The prayer wasnt an ordinary one
He wanted for her to stay,
He'd seen Her world
For years together,
He now wanted her to see,
His own world of wonders
Above the choppy sea..
He prayed that She could
Join him
With no other blocks,
The only thing he wanted..*
"If only she could walk",
*She cried and cried
In the sea of course
She knew that wasn't possible,
She knew He was lost..
One morning she woke up
Washed up on the shore,
The sea no longer wanted her
She was thrown.
She'd seen the seas too much,
Now it was time for her to go,
To Walk with the Sailor
With new legs, aboard.
Happiness got the best of her,Tears would'nt stop,
He caught her arms,
Pulled her up,
And showed her how to walk.*
*She told him he had to love her,
And two other people too,
The Sailor was astonished
He dint know what to do!
A few days later
He did understand,
They were now four,
A bundle of all,
Joy had at last rejoiced!
He gave her a pearl,
From the very sea she came from,
To remind her of That world,
She accepted and
Now they were one mind,
A family,
One of a kind..*
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 12:17 PM UTC
Gemini,
I am always trying to understand you.
I am always trying to capture your shadow self in action,
Hold it in my hands, understand all of him.
You are the book I am always reading,
You are always on my mind,
You are always on my mind.
Gemini,
Love and fear.
To belong, to matter,
To be misplaced, to be forgotten.
Your eyes are like two different oceans.
One smooth and love.
One choppy and rock.
Both are hungry,
Both scared,
Both not worked up about much of anything.
Gemini,
I want to light you inside.
I want to crawl into all parts of you
And make you feel more than what appears.
Gemini,
I want to love you.
I want to love you as moss loves rocks.
And trees love time.
And cherry blossoms love spring.
And clocks love seconds.
I want to love you as lilies love pads,
As suns love moons,
As nights love days.
I want to love you as houses love homes.
As blood loves veins,
As hearts love brains.
Gemini, I want to love you.
Gemini,
There is nothing more.
There is nothing more.
One day, these poems will make me cry.
Gemini,
I see you as no one else does.
Gemini,
With me, you can be whole.
You can be both.
Gemini,
I want to love you,
I do,
It is a sick thing.
Gemini,
There is nothing like you.
You are all there is.
Gemini,
I already love you.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Today not all of our mistakes are failures
Today I'm closing the door on
the things we keep behind our teeth,
the ways we never learned how to be
soft, but always tried
our best anyway
this is a tribute to the lost sleep
the nights I keep marked in tallies on
my arms, the letters I keep locked up
in a dark drawer,
where maybe something besides moths and regret
will eat away at them.
Today, not all of our thoughts are broken
today you take me out of my skin and I learn how to dance;
the rhythm is choppy but I follow
it anyway, after all we are only testing the waters here
we are only stargazers
awaiting some grand cosmic miracle, we are waiting with our
hands in our pockets for something big to happen,
we are falling in and out of obsession
chasing strangers
around and around in circles,
throwing our
fists in the air claiming "not everything is lost",
slowly coming to the realization that
it's also true not everything is found.
Today you don't know what you're looking for but you can't stop
searching the horizon, like maybe if you peer long enough,
your brain will slow down enough to process
the harsh thump-thump, thump-thump that tells you you're still alive
that tells you you're still here
that tells you you're still waiting
And my fingernails are digging into my palms now from the suspense
of writing and re-writing my name onto fresh pages,
crumpling and collecting them
in the bottom of waste baskets along with
half smoked cigarettes and
last night's rain, because
it is rare that two paths will cross in this world with anything more
than a brief flash of recognition,
it is rare that anything
better can be captured before it slips
down through the cracks;
but that thought was me eons ago
that was me in someone else's skin
today I'm putting nets out to catch the things
we throw around & never keep,
I'm writing your story into my
daily script & keeping a list
of "to-dos" before the big event;
tonight I'm alone and I'm
too busy to look out the window,
maybe the stars will flicker or maybe
they won't, but regardless
I'm still counting my heartbeats to know that I'm here
(still counting my heartbeats to know
the time I have left),
I'm still patching
this wound up with fragments of could have been,
reminding myself that not all
of our hearts are broken, and not all
of our moments are failures.
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Reminiscing
Nature’s way of showing
Those old-timey memories
Your first true love
Your first heartbreak
Your third-grade strait As
Your ninth grade strait Ds
Reminiscing
Those old-timey memories
The picture is terrible
All faded and stained
The sound is choppy
And voices drained
But yet we long to be transported
Back to those old times
So we relive the past
Or get on track
Reminiscing
Nature’s way of showing
You are who you are
So don’t long to change the past
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 8:20 PM UTC
you are a thunderstorm;
when anger crackles beneath
and your veins pop
you are a thunderstorm;
when laughter bubbles out
together with a cheshire-like grin
you are a thunderstorm;
when tears pour out
with choppy breathing
you are a thunderstorm;
when in his arms
and when not
you are a thunderstorm;
cold and electrifying,
but beautiful.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 2:27 AM UTC
the body of this poem is about two bodies, sometimes poetic things are ***** and sometimes ***** things are poetic things under the dirt of what i'd been taught my whole life about my virginity. i was told that if i lost it i wouldnt be able to find it again. i was not told about a boy, tall and skinny and blonde, blue-gray eyes, i was not told that i would kiss him, i was not told that my kiss would be his first. i didnt know at the time that summer would collapse into one moment, i could never have guessed that two crazy transgender boys could coincide with virginity as strongly as we pressed our bodies together. i was fourteen years old and my body was a choppy pencil sketch of anorexia and rib damage, of breast tissue and scar tissue, of anxiety and hipbones. he was fifteen years old and to me he was beautiful, everything strange and weird in our brains was erased and forgotten, fogged up with our heavy breathing. i am wrapped up in firsts and lasts and the first time was not entirely the world-shattering that it was built up to be, we were built up, and then i forget why we stopped. but we stopped. but we stopped being far apart and afraid to tell each other how close we wished we were. we learned how to commit heavy sins, the kind that make you feel good. we learned that our relationship is textbook unhealthy, but unhealthy people means unhealthy partners means unhealthy- means **** off, we are trying our best and **** you, this is what love means. this tangle of fingers. we learned that we have to not only have secrets but become them. we didnt have to be taught what it feels like to need someone. we didnt need to learn how it tastes to be absolutely sure of something.
my entire life i was taught that i should save myself for a man, but instead i let go of myself and loved a boy.
Jun 2, 2015
Jun 2, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Life is like a waterfall. It never stops, time never freezes. It keeps on going, weather you want it to stop or not. Its always moving and there's is always an uneven flow to it. It even gets choppy at times.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 2:51 PM UTC
Reminiscing
Nature’s way of showing
Those old-timey memories
Your first true love
Your first heartbreak
Your third-grade strait As
Your ninth grade strait Ds
Reminiscing
Those old-timey memories
The picture is terrible
All faded and stained
The sound is choppy
And voices drained
But yet we long to be transported
Back to those old times
So we relive the past
Or get on track
Reminiscing
Nature’s way of showing
You are who you are
So don’t long to change the past
Mar 30, 2011
Mar 30, 2011 at 8:20 PM UTC
My eyes bleed with exhaustion.
My thoughts are fuzzy like my brain is stuffed with styrofoam.
My body sinks into the ugly carpet floor of my basement.
My mouth tastes sour with the flavor of an unslept soul.
I lie here writing instead of sleeping because it feels like the only thing I can do well, consciously.
My back aches with an elders pain at late seventeen.
I crave the warm embrace of my bed but am too stuck like sap to move.
I'm rambling here in my brain instead of resting my frigid existence.
My thoughts are slow and choppy now with the hesitation of drifty words.
My rusted, chipping ears hear nothing but silence and a distant coo-coo clock.
The chirps of a bird only found in my dark, dusty insanity.
The world weighs upon children such as these in a universe such as this.
I'm just, tired. Tired...
~S.C. Kelley
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC
*standing on the threshold of change, I await a fresh-line
but the universe may be unready
if not, I may take to choppy-waters
all by myself*
1.
if we are all stuck in the jam of time
perhaps, if we spread it out real thin
some of us could actually lift off
and catch a ride.. out
free some hostage from the twisting temporal-joints
and the wool-gatherers mind their business
and footsore beggars dine on exotic-things
deep in the heart of the jungle
where Nebuchadnezzar parked his dreams of old
by saving your surprise for a weekday jaunt
we limp on in the vacant-dust of paradox
yet get unavoidably detained by the present
undo the ribbons and the package may unfold its.. things
espy the tick-tock riding the margin of fright
common sense of morn lies delightfully unfinished
and the wrong side of a bold idea gets squashed
the brain-weary ingest their lot and plough on through thickets of tricky-fate
while tiptoeing silent on the farthest-blades of brimstone
holding subtly aloft.. the frankness of aiding-spectres
2.
balloon of green, balloon of blue
hold out your hand and pray you get no inequalities of flame
easy catch of the sound of science scoffing in the parlour
when we try to do something different; take a chance
uncivilised-humour will argue the rings off your punctured-lobes
any germ of new plan must needs be nurtured
let any frenemy go; intolerant-ilk do better by their vacuous selves
remarkably convenient
there's almost enough water in the well
to soak up the ivory-rays and let them fly
and there's a breeze lifting the needle off the ancient-groove
spinning reels on the bay
*no, you will never convince me
that the time-keeper holds all keys
'cos I snuck out furtive.. late one night
and sawed through.. for a whole decade
and well, guess what I have here..*
:)
S T - 24 Jan 2014
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Speak
When you speak I see cascades of life.
Life and light tend to look the same.
Your light is turquoise and the color of jade sitting just beneath the surface of choppy water.
When you speak I feel heat.
You have yet to burn me.
You are the steady warmth of new born embers of a fire
yet to blaze. When you speak I smell salt water.
Even with a sting, you’re the most refreshing thing.
The ocean is not as paradoxical as your passionately
calm surface. When you speak I taste loneliness.
Bitter sweet like underripe tangerines.
I cannot know this beautiful mind of yours without encountering cold, rusty, metal walls
When you speak I hear midnight.
You know how to play the silences.
I hold my breath waiting for the next sentence you’re carefully, mysteriously orchestrating. Whisper or shout
speak to me againHole in my heart
Speak Karijinbba Beloved!
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
I walked into a sunset that did not belong to me,
Its vivid colours burning across the Mediterranean Sea.
In a fragile, elusive moment of composure
I gazed at the choppy sea moving closer
To the rugged, pebbly, rocky shore
Where I stood alone against the Rock.
The Rock of Gibraltar watched with a smile
As the turbulent Med pulsating with life
Scattered its waves against the strand,
And the sapphire waters kissed the ancient land.
The stormy sea embraced the coast
With fierceness intangible as a ghost.
The air vibrated with a taste of freedom,
With barely audible words of wisdom
That travelled across the centuries
To fill the tangy air with memories.
The voices from the past enveloped the Rock
In an alluringly mythical, protective cloak.
I gathered the strength I drew from the Rock;
Fears discarded, the resolve growing strong,
I walked the Med Steps to the very top
Against a dazzlingly splendid backdrop
Of the breathtaking views of the bay,
Basking in the aura of fears thrown away.
Intoxicated by the beauty, hungry for more,
I was feeling elated to the very core.
The fear of heights temporarily conquered,
The contentment felt almost awkward.
Suddenly, the world seemed a different place:
Offering the nature's graceful embrace.
As the starry night slowly descended,
In my solitude, I felt protected
By the mighty Rock standing tall and grand
Guarding the ancient, immemorial land.
Copyright: Nara Hodge 2018
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:31 PM UTC
I am NOT a size ZERO
My skin is spotted like a dalmatian
angel kisses and acne
My teeth are not pearl white
Chubby feet and lots to love legs.
Muscle is not defined
unmatched clothes cover my body
just a hint of mascara is found on my face.
rarely
My hair is not long and beautiful.
Choppy & Short
fingernails have chipped polish
I am the go to girl.
Not the: go to because she is so drop dead gorgeous girl
But the go to girl "because she knows everyone"
"She can hook me up with him/her" girl.
I will never be a size zero.
My hair may not cover my back and sway while I walk
My teeth are that awkward shade of in between almost looking perfectly white
I don't wear expensive clothes. Let alone match what I do wear.
My skin is far from being as smooth as a "babies ***
My eyes have wrinkles around them already.
SO...
That does not mean in any way, shape, or form that I do not have a soul.
I have feelings.
My heart can only handle so much.
To the boy who laughed at me in the gym:
I am sorry that I do not have a perfect body that is "eye candy"
To the boy{s} who stole my heart, and then hit on my great friend:
I'm sorry I don't use large words and have an opinion on everything.
I'm sorry I am not a poetry goddess or have the ability to pull off wearing
red lipstick and scarves.
To the boy I hardly know in church:
I will NOT give you my roommates number
after you flirt with me to get it.
To all of the boys who look past me while I am walking next to ANY girl:
I'm sorry, I guess I really am not worth "your time"
&
To the boy, who will hold my hand and heart for the rest of, well {forever}:
Can you hurry up?
I am ready for someone to like that I don't plaster myself in powder
and stiffen my hair with hairspray everyday.
I am ready for you to love me for my thousands of small freckles covering my body.
I hope you can love me, unconditionally...
even though I am curvy.
I know you are out there somewhere.
And if I knew you now I would send you to beat up
all of those boys hurting my feelings.
Or just hearing how much you care for me,
that would help too.
I'll be waiting.
xoxo
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 1:15 PM UTC
Singing on the roof tops
dancing with the owls
preying on the ocean
wandering through the comets
soul by soul we devoured
plagiarising every thought
typhoons and their memories
pummelling every heartbeat
Choppy moments
And finding secrets
Blending on the side walks
chasing the tail of Mars
leaping from the aether
coughing up the stars
rain of rain we let roar
sipping every shadow
deserts and their reveries
pummelling every heartbeat
Colder summers
And clearing skies
Poems on the sunset
obelisks on the edge
triremes in the universe
clocks in our heads
hell by hell we traversed
loving every essence
clusters and their eulogies
pummelling every heartbeat
Changing meadows
And healing wakes
We watched the cows graze.
Sep 1, 2012
Sep 1, 2012 at 11:11 AM UTC
be with someone who starts a fire
brings the kindle
glows when you are near
and brags about your warmth
not someone who retreats
when you crackle
be with someone who wants to sink deeper
than the choppy surface
behind your sarcasm
beyond the distance
and still sees your worth
not someone whose scared
by your preferences
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
1. I was outside shoveling horse **** considering the more **** I piled up, the less you'd deal with when you came home.
2. I woke up every night at 2, unfamiliar to having the bed all to myself, curled around a pillow like a buoy far from shore, sea sick in the choppy water, my vision reduced to abstract smudges. I focused on what must have been your silhouette as I gulped cups of salty water half a mile into the ocean, exhausted and drowning.
3. Medicinal marijuana alleviates anxiety. I won't swear on depression, I believe, there are four types of depression. Blue dreams are most desirable, every day for 8 months.
4. You've probably seen this desktop orb that captures electrical currents, so when you touch it with your fingers violet bolts ignite against your glass fingerprint. With this light, 2 a.m. I scoop the sandman's hash into my pipe so i can get some rest from my past who caught up to me a few days ago.
5. Dreamer. Heartbreaker. Deep thinker. No harm has come -- to--- you.
6. When it gets dark again, run baby run. Spin around with my eyes on his, reveal the wreck behind my lids, at the thought of losing him, not to another woman, but to Fate. Hold him tight. Make love like you mean it, not to **** but to tie two hearts together as they bleed. It's bloodstains on the white sheets, two people loved here like death sat by the dinner table, waiting on his appetizer.
7. The cruel morning illuminates his naked body as he slept. I cried because I didn't know if dreamed of pleasing me. Why did I let things I couldn't control worry me?
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
she was wilder
than a storm on a summer eve
she was wilder
than a choppy southern sea
she was a wild wild woman
wild was she
he could never tame her
no matter how hard he tried
she wasn't going to be
no placid glide
she was a wild wild woman
wild was she
his life was never bland
with her around
she was the wildest woman
on the north side of town
she was wilder
than a surging river's flow
she was wilder
than a Texas rodeo
she was a wild wild woman
wild was she
she was a wild wild woman
wild was she
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 6:49 PM UTC
If I was a bird flying over the sea, would you stop for a moment and gaze up at me?
The wind under feather with curious weather...
away from the the worries that bind like a tether.
The waves singing songs as I soar far ahead with notes filled with passion like mothers singing to bed,
their children who sleep,
children too young to know,
the vast choppy waters
and the storms vicious blow.
If I was a bird flying over the sea, would you long for purpose?
Would you long to be free?
Would you long to stretch outward like the branch of a tree?
Though now I am chained to a wall made by pride and the ignorant static that is nestled inside,
one day I will open my troublesome eyes and arrive to a peace found in being truly alive.
Until then I fall, until then I fail, but with every bruise comes a truth in the gale.
So have faith in me and I send you this plea.
That one day you'll see me with wings,
flying over the sea.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
see I wrote my pains plain because I know the struggles real well,
now the only shells I see are seashells,
now we pass the days surfing wave breaks no emails,
and all seems swell as we swim out when the sea swells.
Swimming in an ocean,
in a rainstorm,
lightening lights the liquid horizon, thunder cracks waves crash,
beautiful chaos,
within and without,
choppy waters commanding currents,
no definitive lines everything’s blurring.
She’s with me,
an angelic beauty,
fittingly,
from The City of Angels,
as am I,
we find,
we’ve found,
beautiful chaos in this ocean and these thunderous sounds...
The H Trilogy
Volume 1
7/7/16
∆
Jul 1, 2016
Jul 1, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
Ask me what it feels like to be dead inside. Go ahead. Ask.
I know you're curious.
It's like swimming in circles.
You can't see the shore and you can't see past the surface of the water. You're moving but you're not making any progress and it's frustrating. Your muscles are on fire and you're hungry but you keep going because what else is there to do? You could stop and just wade but you know that if you do that you'll give up that much quicker. You wonder what it would be like to surrender and let the water wrap you in it's unknowable depths for the rest of time. You wonder how deep it is and what it's like down there but you figure you'll end up there inevitably someday anyway so you keep going for the time being.
You can change the way you move through the water and how fast you go but you never stop swimming. There's a variety of weather and waves you experience. Sometimes it's nice and the water is calm and you can forget about the emptiness you feel inside and do the backstroke to feel the sunlight on your cheeks but other times it's cold and the choppy waves smash into your face and sting your eyes and all you can focus on is your breathing over the burning in your joints. Nevertheless, you swim and swim and swim without any destination, waiting for the next change to come.
You do a lot of thinking. You wonder what it must be like to feel anything other than longing and discontentment and exasperation. You ponder the big questions and answer the little ones and you try to fill the void inside you with complicated concepts and pretty words. You thoroughly analyze yourself, coming to terms with everything that makes you what you are. You're not happy but not sad either. You're not even somewhere in between. You gave up crying a long time ago because it never helped anything but you still laugh when you get the chance. You're very practical and proud of your cognitive abilities but you also suspect that they are the reason why you don't experience emotions the way other people seem to. You once read "Those who are sensible about love are incapable of it" somewhere and you think just maybe that applies to all the feelings you don't feel. This almost makes you feel distraught, or maybe you just want it to. Regardless, you contemplate anything and everything to distract yourself from the never-ending circles.
You swim and swim and swim and swim because that's all you can do and all you want
all you've ever wanted
is to feel alive
but you don't know how.
And that, my friends, is what it feels like to not feel anything at all.
Swimming in circles.
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 7:07 PM UTC
Lazy days and choppy waves
Upon a copper sea,
A breezy, warming westerly
Is blowing down on me.
Sunlight striking wavelets
Below clouds of cotton cool
And seagulls hang in squadron lines
Aloft from oyster pool.
Road signs judder in the breeze
Ripples weave amongst long grass,
Mangroves bend in unison
And asphalt bakes in molten glass.
A parasol of brilliant blue
A picnic basket brimming high
With lemonade and icy beer
Whilst sausages and onions fry.
Two barking dogs cavort with joy
Chasing hard on sandy beach,
Leaping high in summer air
Running, fetching, ***** to each.
The lazy summer saunters in
Engulfing us with solar heat,
The pretty girls wear tiny shorts
Which breathless boys find such a treat.
Pohutukawa’s bursting forth
In waves of rich and scarlet red
Which juxtapose dark olive greens
Of leafage midst each flower bed.
A sky of brilliant powder blue
With salt spray aura in the air
As swimmers splash in gales of fun
Hot sunlight baubles kiss their hair.
Marshalg
Port Waikato beach
15 November 2011
© 2011 Marshal Gebbie
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:28 PM UTC
Clouds rolling
In
Winds picking
up
Waters getting
choppy
The moon is disappearing
The stars are disappearing
Maybe I can
also
disappear
on this night
On the wings of
the wind
and
just float away
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
I guess my mentality is jump or don't, you can't just stand there on a cliff forever. You either can turn around and walk away or run and jump. And when you hit the water, you can swim and enjoy the ocean for awhile or go find a new cliff to jump from or a new ocean to swim in, if this one doesn't suit you.
The future is unpredictable, why stand on the edge forever debating ever tiny thing and waiting for perfect conditions? Nothing is ever going to be perfect.
(Nobody is going to be perfect.)
And if it doesn't work out, get out, dry yourself off, and try again. But don't stand there waiting for perfection, because no matter what cliff you stand on or what ocean you want to jump in, it will never ever be just right.
The water might be freezing at first, but could you get used to it? Or maybe the water is warm and perfect.
Perhaps it's too choppy, but give it time and the tide will slacken and the water will calm.
Yes, there is the potential that the waves will be too big and try to pull you under, but you can fight and swim out if it's too much.
But there's always the chance you learn to swim and it's beautiful and worth it. Worth the fear of jumping, worth trying to figure out.
But you'll never know for certain if you just stand there. Waiting.
I'm not the type of girl to hesitate on the edge and wait. I either jump or leave. I'm not telling you that you have to jump with me. I don't want to feel like I've made someone do something they don't want to do. But I can't just stand here unsure. I've never been that girl.
I've always either gone after what I want, despite every obstacle in my way, or it's not something I want badly enough and I won't follow through.
And if you're waiting for perfect wife conditions and contemplating the high and low tides and thinking years from now, you're going to be on that cliff for a long time. And you might miss out on some fun waves and warm water. The sun might set and it will be too late. But here's the thing, I just know I won't be waiting around for a long time.
We've had a nice long picnic on this pretty little cliff darling, but now it's time for something different. I'm on the edge and ready to jump. Question is, are you?
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC