POETRY BOOK FOUR: Untitled Book in Progress
Oddly Ebbed

Oddly ebbed, the inlet limned by moonlight glints against the rising tide,
While the wind unbound unwinding wound around the windward side;
With a loud astounding rumble thunder blundered under troubled clouds,
Smote, my mind remembered stubborn embers smoldered under colder cinders ‘til I pulled the shroud.

Ouch, I grouched aloud, I’ve touched a proud confounding doubt I’m not allowed to laugh about;
With each raw breached belief, my grief unleashed, my awful sleep too brief, I dream, I try to speak, I shout;
What furied hell, so mean, so vile, cuts through effective, well-protected shells to rile my bitter inner child?
Stop! Please stop! My thoughts defiled, unbridled cries, my tears undried, my mind a trial, too difficult, too pained, too wild.

To what so mindless, witless, unnamed debt,
Do I owe these fitful unsought thoughts I can’t forget?
To drown, to bleed, to suffocate, to reach a dreamless sleep,
Even black of death can’t promise me a calmness I can keep.

So in my boat I pilot ‘round the reef,
Avoiding rocks, the strife, subsurface grief;
No beach to reach, I mapless journey on,
And plot this plat to survey where I’ve gone.

|| My Poetry ||