"outcries" poems - Hello Poetry

Twisted reeds sway gently in the wind as black seabirds slice the sky overhead. Waves rolling one by one crash with increasing ferocity on to the rocky beach, And I watch the red sun set fire to the spray while the tide encircles me. Tugging at my feet, pulling me forward, it beckons for my consent. I give in, And all is quiet even in such chaos. All is nightmarish and beautiful all the more. The blood red horizon seers my retinas; freshly unleashed tears take to the sea. These waves, such enormous swells, crash in on me; an unseen war is waging. They press me down and back, and then drag me further into the endless blue. Over and over again, repetition loses count, my outcries die prematurely. Only seawater and air manage to sputter from my lips, cracked and worn. Not a whisper can be heard out here in such a true state of despair, but not all Castaways are without faith. The past I once cherished has been lost to the depths, Yet a knowing tingle in my gut keeps me searching for a message hidden merely 'Neath the surface. Drifting deeper into my pain, I notice a curious thing: The force of the waves lessening as I gracelessly surrender to Sorrow and the sea. My feet torn by jagged rocks no longer felt, my eyelids blistered by the red Eternal sunset, a few waves push me under before the siege of the sea falters and I learn to ride the surf, taking each afront as it comes, whether predicted or Suddenly upon me. My pain ebbs away slowly with the passing of each episode, And with each wave I acknowledge my loss, relinquishing my burden. Like so many desparinging hearts before me shipwrecked in the sea of tears, I forcefully remind myself that one day the lush, inviting green shores of the Other side of the sea will appear in my line of vision. Yet, for now, I let myself Drift through the grief of grieving you, often unsure of whether I'm meant to float Or should let myself sink toward the blackest crags of my mind. Here alone.

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Apr 19, 2011

Apr 19, 2011 at 11:30 PM UTC

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The Surf

Twisted reeds sway gently in the wind as black seabirds slice the sky overhead. Waves rolling one by one crash with increasing ferocity on to the rocky beach, And I watch the red sun set fire to the spray while the tide encircles me. Tugging at my feet, pulling me forward, it beckons for my consent. I give in, And all is quiet even in such chaos. All is nightmarish and beautiful all the more. The blood red horizon seers my retinas; freshly unleashed tears take to the sea. These waves, such enormous swells, crash in on me; an unseen war is waging. They press me down and back, and then drag me further into the endless blue. Over and over again, repetition loses count, my outcries die prematurely. Only seawater and air manage to sputter from my lips, cracked and worn. Not a whisper can be heard out here in such a true state of despair, but not all Castaways are without faith. The past I once cherished has been lost to the depths, Yet a knowing tingle in my gut keeps me searching for a message hidden merely 'Neath the surface. Drifting deeper into my pain, I notice a curious thing: The force of the waves lessening as I gracelessly surrender to Sorrow and the sea. My feet torn by jagged rocks no longer felt, my eyelids blistered by the red Eternal sunset, a few waves push me under before the siege of the sea falters and I learn to ride the surf, taking each afront as it comes, whether predicted or Suddenly upon me. My pain ebbs away slowly with the passing of each episode, And with each wave I acknowledge my loss, relinquishing my burden. Like so many desparinging hearts before me shipwrecked in the sea of tears, I forcefully remind myself that one day the lush, inviting green shores of the Other side of the sea will appear in my line of vision. Yet, for now, I let myself Drift through the grief of grieving you, often unsure of whether I'm meant to float Or should let myself sink toward the blackest crags of my mind. Here alone.