Abandoning the Sea

23

My last poem broke through
Harbors, like lost ships, journeys
Ready for the scrap yard
Junk sales, that’s where I found my love
The rusted submarines of

So much idealistic passion
Like spilled cargo, that never
Reached its final destination, listless
After years of searching the wrong
Seas, continents too prosperous

Broken contracts, memory white
With the regret and guilt of loss
The kind of romantic sailors that assure you –
The Sea can make you go crazy
Ready to rejoin the world, without skills

My last poem is ready to sell-out
And be a different kind of martyr
I try not to count the ships, as dreams
Or the people I lost along the way
But that way of life ruined all prospects

Art, were the ruthless waves
Where I sacrificed and risked everything
And lost, my last poem was an admission
Of the darling pupils of my muse
That I will never see again, least of all in verse.

6 thoughts on “Abandoning the Sea

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