'To each his own': sighed the lonely sailor
As his mates battled the fiercest oceans;
'To be left behind may not be a curse',
And so struggles his heart with emotions.
He journeys into the town alleys
Hoping to forget his misfortunes,
Camaraderie betrayed, bereft of love,
The cobbled stones seem like dunes.
Alone in the crowd, he looks for semblance,
This desert defeats the battle with thirst;
Toying with the idea of never quenching
The Sailor dons the clouds of Hearse.
His feet fail, his knee resides,
Unto the ground he does not recognize.
Miles away from house and home,
He drifts sweetly and closes his eyes.
1 comment:
Huh! Is this your masterpiece??
Wanna know what real poetry is? Look at what I've got:
I rhyme, does not imply - to all losers it does not apply.
How goes thee, pray tell - hope the day went all so well.
The rhyme never ends, I must profess - I think I’m going in deep regress.
To the time when every word seemed like a tune - and to all derision I seemed immune.
And your laughter makes my day alive - this is worth every why I strive.
I think it is time to talk like else - the pressure is making me too tense.
Hehehehehe! :)
You are awesome!
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