more poetry #4

okay this is really like i’m 13 or 14 years old but hey…*shrugs* i’m not a master of letters by any means and you already know i’m a sap. (do these constant apologies get tiring?? hmm…perhaps i’ll buck up and stop)

click “keep reading” or title above to read #4 please



Is everything ruined in the icebergs?

Must I hide all day to stay happy?

Do you young wishes that outgrow my arms

hook my brain strong to the wrong chains and teeth?


Take off, proud birds, in the darkest direction

loving anything not built for me.

We migrate so far for so little

when nature bends coordinates in knots.


Flying over, over, same open water–

Where is my island, my island?

The hands in my chest are sure of the spot,

pushed me there with a folded roar–


Here is my island, my island?

It’s outline drawn when I was born

The moment I saw it I knew I’d found

All I wanted.


It was sitting, large, across the sea

And I could feel it thinking, like me

Writing its thoughts in a bright blinking book.


I landed my hands on its knees and asked

“How are you?” my island, my magnet’s home,

“Darling” it said, and clicked the book shut,

“You wouldn’t want to know!”




One response to “more poetry #4

  1. no apologies necessary

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