this sea. or at the mercy of the wind

this sea

is like writing a poem

or having a fist fight because

in the end.

it just doesn t matter

false love

fake hope

the lying sky

doesn t matter

all the love in the world...

ok , all the love in the world might matter

a little

but you get the point

or hopefully not.

there is no point.

words fail

us

love fails us.

the night sky is betrayed

by the day

and my comfortable little hell

is far from the gambling

of writing

like a plane in the sky

or a cloud

at the mercy of the wind.

Reviews

[...]

. oh! ... i know this place ... and i know it so well ... i wrote about it ... "false love" ... shall post that soon and wait for your eyes to pop out ... but hey ... i sometimes feel that it's not love that fails us ... we let it get away ... and then we try so hard to let go ... that it holds us to ransom ... brutally beautiful poetry this is ...

[Dalebear]

Good write

[Shay33]

Morbid, yet strikingly accurate.
"my comfortable little hell is far from the gambling of writing".
Amazing. :)

[emmah]

and with words like this - weaving magic in poetry - the clouds conspire and take over the wind - clouds burst - and when they do - all hell breaks loose - but when they don't burst - they paint shapes in the sky - abstract and endearing - dark and gray - stark and scary - and if not us - at least our poems can be - floating with the clouds - coloring the world in a dark, dark ache.

[Emily B]

I wait weeks for a poem like these you're posting. Sometimes months before I am inspired enough to write something like this. Sometimes my poems sneak up on me, when I'm trying to do something else. Sometimes they seem to fall from the sky and hit me on the head. Rarely do I find any sitting on the couch.