I am a bad commenter, so if you don't read this, that is ok.

Our wet origin

Terrestrial shortcomings
are like ocean winds
cold winter days
with dying polar bears
slowly bouncing the floe,
continuously staring
at fading dominion,
proud and destined
for the pounding of storms.

Winter fallout seizes
old memories
where old men walk
from cove to endless night
with no cover.
The grand con shell
whispers to the forlorn.

Drapes of oily illusion
beckon in dark waves
where fear goes deep.
The salmon glides gently
from its Sargasso
to a river running wild,
to rapids harnessed by man.

Poetry by Bob
Read 1332 times
Written on 2006-12-19 at 04:59

Tags Winter  Ocean  Salmon 

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Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
Beautiful, well worth reading and even bookmarking.

Each time I read it I seem to get more out of it - this is deffinate brain candy as it makes me think deeply. Thank you I have this bookmarked