Don't scroll, search for it here...

Conjolted Poetry

Conjolted Poetry

Tuesday, 7 January 2014

Off the coast and back.

Off the coast and back.

Sometimes I think I can't write,
so I hold onto my words,
throw them in a trunk,
and drive away to the coast.

When I park,
I always look around the lot,
to check if anyone is chasing me for my lot.
When the coast is clear,
I open the boot and start sailing off to sea
to catch a few more words.

Ayeh the words come slow,
They tell me my paddle-
is not pushing us far enough,
So I head back to the car,
shut my boot, drive away.
to look for a boat service centre.

When I get one,
I open my boot again,
then let my mind be tinkered.
After adding an engine to my boat,
I drive back the sail far away,
away from the coast.
This time I am moving at great speed.

I bump into sharks,
jump over waves,
run my fingers over water,
feel a chill from the cold rush,  
as water sprinkles up my arm-
it's an amazing feeling.

When I can,
I let people hop onto my boat,
so we can share the rush.
At our peak,
I cut the engine,
let the water hold us in its calm premise,
and as the sun's reflection lingers over the water,
Our skins goose-bump all over from the cold chill,
I lay back and stare in the clouds.
and write out what they picture.

This time round they look like dolphins,
gliding through the clouds,
sending a sonar to God,
telling him I seek words
to put me back into my gourd,
for I have been forced to think,
that my boat is over flooded
and can not move any further.

So he blesses me,
then my words and I,
float away in tandem,
me behind my leader,
and a few other mandem.
We all catch a good wave,
as we listen to waves clashing in clave,
then make our way back to bay.

No comments:

Post a Comment