Walk, See, Think, Move On.

I don't really know what to say about this poem other than it kind of describes my creation process of writing a poem, walking, thinking, seeing and moving on.

WALK/SEE/THINK/MOVE ON.

 

Wander the beach, with the wind in your face,

can feel as good as a lover’s embrace.

The smell of sea salt flows in the air,

a bitter breeze that blows through your hair.

 

The pier is a wreck, claimed by the waves,

Time will soon come for its watery grave.

A starfish lies dead, cut off from its home

By salt and tide, stranded, alone.

 

Is reality disguised as a cage?

Can one break the bars without rage?

My mind asks ‘are you not creative?

You dream don’t you . . . .? So live’.

 

No going back, for I have moved on,

On to a place where I feel I belong,

I can say with upmost affection,

I’m moving in the right direction.