Dinghy

I rowed the man back to his beach
In the darkness did I glide
The stillness of the night did teach
Yet I still want to run and hide.

The man lived by himself most times
And this we saw in how he spoke
But out upon the people’s edge
It’s hard to hide the words that broke.

Looking back after he left
I saw the lone light beckoning
And all about the sweet still night
Was reverence for this one sure thing.

The oars hit down upon the wet
And lit the water magically
A mystic light that spoke and yet
It’s hard to let the magic be.

I let the fire in my soul
Die down very low
Yet even in the cold still night
The embers still will glow.

Advertisements

A Question to the readers…

I was thinking about getting a group of poets together and having someone pick a topic for all of us to write a poem about. I would then post all the poems on this blog. I think it might be interesting. Now if you are a writer but have not written much poetry (or any) this does not mean that you should not consider it. If anyone is interested leave a comment below.

You Are Mine

When it’s good
You often see
Things you’d hoped
You’d always be.

When it’s bad
You hear a sound
And fears grow real
All around.

When the light
Hits your face
You can’t find
The slightest trace.

Looking up
And looking down
You take the smile
And not the frown.

And how we do it
Every time
When it hits us,
“You are mine.”

With The Pigs

My Exhaustion is of a kind
That tarries in the soul
And leaves the body in a state
Let my joy be so as well.

My Depression is of a weight
That takes a man down low
And down below the stormy sea
Your dying is quite calm.

My cold failures are of a class
That colour every thing
No light comes through another lense
Let my peace be so as well.

Dreaming of the home
The one I’ve never known
Let the bad turn into good
And lead me there to rest.