They lose the day in expectation of the night, and the night in fear of the dawn.


There was a time
when I stumbled
deep into the blue
sailing through a sea of booze
often aimless
and without a clue.
Then came the time
I lost my mind
in the broadest
of light
I looked for it
all through the night
without a beacon
burning so bright
to show me the way home.
So it was my spirit
I had no choice
but to hone,
before the sun
I could ever be shown.
For it’s the boat
we must rock
hidden in morning’s haze
is where we make
the most waves.
All that is left
between death and my next breath
is an oar carved in lore.
What this story has in store
awaits on yonder shore.
Not over there
Cuddled with the puddle
of you
on the kitchen floor.

Poetic Past v.29 / ca. 2006
-Be Love

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  1. Awesome post. Masterfully written!😊


  2. Beautifully and such deep lines so well composed.


  3. Thank you for the feedback.


  4. Your feedback is a blessing. Thank you so much.


  5. Beautiful!! I wish I could write poetry.


  6. Thank you. Who says you can’t?


  7. I guess in fact I’ve never tried:)


  8. No time like the present.


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