my wooden rowing boat

This poem is about a hyperthetical wooden rowing boat that can take you places that you've never been before, but then again these places feel like home.

In my wooden rowing boat i glide,

i stare deeply into the lake, and sigh,

as it shines, as it sparkles, as it glissens,

lean in closer, go on have a listen,

hear the fish breath thats how very quiet it is,

look up and smell the dew and see the morning mist.

 

The sound of purity is something to keep,

slide in to bed as it puts you to sleep,

drift and slip and slide and breathe,

reckless behavoir is what you leave,

to watch the grass grow is all ill do today,

this is my mostfavourite place to go anyway.

 

The smell of sweet morning pine,

and the sap of it runs through you mind,

the gentle moss growing slowly on rocks,

all is calm and quiet as the bird spots,

a worm as it cralws into the ground,

the poor bird sings dissapointed sound.

 

As she raises her head and chews her grass,

she thanks god that she is here at last,

this dear is very happy here away from any harm,

her meaningful eyes express all of her charm.

 

in my wooden rowing boat i glide,

people see me but i still smile.

 

Reviews

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A build up of torrent emotion and balanced flow, grammaticality astute, well done, good read.