There was a man who lived on the sea
Who had a dying wife
Each day he would serenade her
And warm her heart each night
She got sicker and sicker
But little did he know
Since the smile that shone out of her
Dazzled the darkest boats
So the man went to the port
And met a young lady
They had their way on the beach
While the wife lay in pain
The man returned and told his wife
He felt confused by his actions
But the wife simply passed away
Her soul abandoned her in seconds
Looking down she watched them
No longer who they were
Saddened by this tragedy
Both beyond repair
She looked across the bed frame
And up towards the night
There was his soul opposite
His eyes blue like the sky
No words came out of their mouths
But so much was shared
Without their bodies
Only love was heard
It filled the sky like an explosion
It warmed the earth for days
They wondered as they floated back
Could they survive this phase
They slowly returned to atoms
Into denseness they were cramped
She opened her eyes as he held her hand
And for life they did thank.
Category: Trance
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There is a little moth
Dancing on the window
Tiny little wings
Fluttering to flamenco
Turning on it’s own
Stamping round the holes
I think this moth’s a schizophrenic
It’s playing both the roles -
The inhale like the ocean waves gliding like satin across the shore
Her exhale a reminder of the rhythm
The earth, the moon and the mighty sun
The joys found within this prison
The plants that cool her blistering skin
The water that quenches her thirst
The tears that run down her happy face
When she’s reminded of what she loves most
The thoughts she has as she watches the world
Her cognitive intelligent brain
Far superior than her neighbours cat
Or the man sleeping on the train
The precious sleep she enjoys 7 hours a night
The woman that lies beside her
Watching the rise and fall of her chest
The doctors say it’s terminal inside her
How quickly everything fades away
The children, the family what-have-you.
Faced with a tumbling cliff
To the ocean where we found you. -
There’s a penguin on my head
How’d it get there?
It’s telling me to take it for a ride
I’ve ask him politely
To remove himself but spritely
He pulls my hair and tells me then to stride
I’m not your horse penguin!
I don’t think so!
I’m getting quite frustrated at this game
The penguin looks right at me
His eyes fixed entrap me
And in a trance I canter across the plane
Sin Agua Poetry Blog 