fly away

poem (by me): something enigmatic

This is the way,
like dying thunder left to echo all alone,
bereft of flash or rain or aught
but air and dreams and river foam.
Below, the greasy green of dust-strained water creeps along
and whispers back of sea-hopes and bleached skeletons
and memories long gone.

This is the way,
do you understand? When life retreats and beaches you,
like some drownding fish gasping on the shore,
each second precious even as it's lost,
each wave a lingering hope of water once again;
do not despair when you are suddenly bereft
of friend or family or cause. Smell the roses:
though they have thorns, they are, at last check, real,
and, when watered, grow.
I wish I had words even remotely adequate. I always get something real and very moving from your poetry, but rarely can I express what that something is.... Thank you so much for sharing!
Rarely can I express either--which is why this poem focuses entirely on the image of the sea until the last three lines, where we're suddenly and inexplicably talking about roses. I'd say there was a reason for it, but it's just what popped into my head. So, yeah. Articulate, that's me. :P

I'm glad these--um. I'm not sure how to phrase this. Affect you? Mean something to someone other than me? Aren't just gibberish after all? Something along those lines. And thank you for commenting; some days I do wonder whether I'm making any sense at all.
Hey, it's poetry--it doesn't have to make sense! It just needs to be...well, delicious, sort of, to the mind rather than the tongue. And yours is!! So I'm very glad that you write it and share it, and I'm happy to encourage you. ^^