rough current o’er my path
couldn’t pick a way
no choice but sink or swim
life pulled me down
boulders blocked my life
throw them at the sun
sharp like a knife
writing scribbled frowns
not really smooth
a way in front I see
what lies behind
rushes to the sea
walk in a village
water flowing free
writing with a goal
children read & dream
I know poetry is symbolic and cryptic and so many unexplainables. Poetry has been a way for me to move forward (and write) when my path seemed fouled. Use your words no matter how few to set your mind at ease. There is a waterfall of sentences just up ahead.
penned in moon dust 