Knowing First-Hand
The swell of foam,
A gust of wind so strong,
Your eyes so grey and cold,
They challenge to be tamed,
They warn that you are bold.
Yet every ship that sailed there,
Turned back or worse destroyed,
The waves so huge and fearsome,
Your eyes beckon them on.
You want the fear and destruction,
You want the attention and sadness,
Like the sea you confuse and swirl on.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Knowing First-Hand, which
was posted on Sep 25, 2011 by
Lachness-Monster.
This is a solo poem.
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This poem is filed under:
Abstract, Blank Verse, Ode
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