deepundergroundpoetry.com
I drifted alone
I drifted alone like a forsaken boat,
A shallow dinghy left behind,
In the solitude of a remote marsh,
Where my once vibrant paint has faded, unrefined.
My only solace lies in the promise of the next high tide,
When I'll ride upon the brackish water's glide.
I surrender to the aimless drift, dictated by fate,
Feeling the wind and waves upon the bay,
On rhythmic swells, I find serenity,
Through the misty grays, nothing to survey.
On pale ripples, gentle and free,
Yearning for a destination out at sea.
In that distant place where the sun resides,
Across the waters of a westward sunset,
The ambiance of cirrus clouds spins and glides,
Brushing colors upon each crest.
There, I long to immerse myself in bold shades,
In the melting solar marigold's cascades.
Yet, I must release these wishful dreams,
For my lifeline has been stripped away,
I strayed, following other fleeting schemes,
Now, the commanding tide cannot be swayed.
A rustic wreck, resting amidst the reeds,
Their whispers of wind-song impose their needs.
There's no escape from their piercing lance,
The tall and crisp blades of green,
Undulating in an enchanting dance,
Breezes causing tassels to gently lean.
Though swans find beauty amidst the reeds,
For a wistful coward, bitterness breeds.
A shallow dinghy left behind,
In the solitude of a remote marsh,
Where my once vibrant paint has faded, unrefined.
My only solace lies in the promise of the next high tide,
When I'll ride upon the brackish water's glide.
I surrender to the aimless drift, dictated by fate,
Feeling the wind and waves upon the bay,
On rhythmic swells, I find serenity,
Through the misty grays, nothing to survey.
On pale ripples, gentle and free,
Yearning for a destination out at sea.
In that distant place where the sun resides,
Across the waters of a westward sunset,
The ambiance of cirrus clouds spins and glides,
Brushing colors upon each crest.
There, I long to immerse myself in bold shades,
In the melting solar marigold's cascades.
Yet, I must release these wishful dreams,
For my lifeline has been stripped away,
I strayed, following other fleeting schemes,
Now, the commanding tide cannot be swayed.
A rustic wreck, resting amidst the reeds,
Their whispers of wind-song impose their needs.
There's no escape from their piercing lance,
The tall and crisp blades of green,
Undulating in an enchanting dance,
Breezes causing tassels to gently lean.
Though swans find beauty amidst the reeds,
For a wistful coward, bitterness breeds.
Published 1st Apr 2024
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1
reading list entries 0
comments 1
reads 172
Commenting Preference:
The author is looking for friendly feedback.
1st Apr 2024 00:28am
seems like you are talking about two different people here within this poem... the lonely bitter one and the optimistic one finding green love among the reeds...
