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

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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?

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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.

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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–

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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.

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It was sitting, large, across the sea

And I could feel it thinking, like me

Writing its thoughts in a bright blinking book.

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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!”

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One response to “more poetry #4

  1. no apologies necessary

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