I miss my ocean

Sand. Dirty sand and soil.
Dust in my mouth and coating this skin.
A film of sweat covers me.
Sticky heat and restless.
I miss my sea, the ocean that bore me.
Tranquil and deep like the pools in my mind.
To drift and meander across its aqua stretches.
Calms the blood that torrents through me.
I miss my sea, my ocean.
At times stormy, but full of life.
Threatening to pull me down to the ocean floor.
Where I can be alone, and able to heal.
The arid heat and air of this desert itches my eyes.
Scratches at the very thought of going on another day.
The salty air calls me back.
A maelstrom of reasons directing my compass.
To ride over waves and rise with Atlantis.
Reaching a trident back up to god.
So I shall make my way, and crawl back into the sea.
One which always welcomes and cherishes me.
Washing everything clean, and cooling my soul.
I miss my ocean.
I miss my sea.

8 thoughts on “I miss my ocean

      • There are times I sit and just write something out but many times I get down the basic idea and then work it out in a few days or even weeks. Geez, I’ve got a few that I’ve been sitting on for months. I pull them up occasionally, tinker. I’m a bit of a perfectionist. There are times I finish it and come back to post and throw it away because I just don’t like what I’ve written enough. I keep trying though. I’m hoping one day I’ll look at my work and think… yeah, I like that. But this poem. I absolutely adore it.

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      • It’s good you have a process. I find it interesting how people create their own magic. Always keep what you write, tinker and rework if needed. Even if just for you, it’s good to get something down on paper/screen. Re-writes can help save a collection of words, making a cake from random ingredients. And mister Dickens wasn’t a stranger to rewriting: http://images.archant.co.uk/polopoly_fs/1.5420229.1520242126!/image/image.jpg_gen/derivatives/landscape_630/image.jpg.
        But like your own stuff, enjoy it’s birth into the world. Be your own, and loudest, cheerleader!

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  1. I love these lines.

    “I miss my sea, the ocean that bore me.
    Tranquil and deep like the pools in my mind.
    To drift and meander across its aqua stretches.
    Calms the blood that torrents through me.”

    Like

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