Barren

today the soul mourns

it does not cry

it does not feel male nor female

but rather like bread - crummy and stale

an ever looming cloud of grey

a constant drizzle stealing from day

the sea feels greyish-green

waves are sick and stunted and snotty and mean

our good friend salvador dali he knew

in persistence of memory he painted, he drew

my desert lacks the sea

and clocks are clouds big and white

that tick tock tock with all their might

my desert lacks the sea

i feel pale cold sand beneath me

the mind is a stagnant lake

with a battered old row boat it cannot take

                                                               today the soul mourns it cannot cry

                                                                     

                                                               today the soul really just wants to cry

Reviews

[Luke Ritta]

really enjoyed reading this jessi....powerful poem!.....stunning poem!

loved the stanza
'it does not feel male nor female
but rather like bread - crummy and stale'

What a nice deep description and use of beautiful metaphors, demanded one extreme to another. Such a superb poem. xx