Waves

Take the sea,
now bottle the waves.
You're left now,
with a still, silent
black-blue monster,
seventy-percent the size of Earth.

Much like the waveless ocean,
your mind is still
and silent,
and inside your brain
a monster dwells,
torturing you and demanding
your name.

But what happened
to the bottle of waves?
Ah, it's still in my hand,
silly me.
Unleash the waves,
create a painting,
a living ocean.

Much like the bottle
in my right hand,
I am your waves,
and I will always be
holding your hand.
Maybe one day,
you'll slap your forehead,
"Silly me," you'll say.
"I forgot about the beautiful waves."

Reviews

[Sharon Miller Bolander]

Wonderful metaphor! I love the sea and its waves and can never resist reading poetry pertaining to the ocean. I must admit sometimes I've not seen what should have been clear and have had to slap myself on the forehead for being ignorant. I'm happy to see you chose to join Albert's group and hope you'll share your talent in one of the group's contests. This really is an excellent poem! Sharon