poetry for thought

title: boat man

I want to be like him,
The man who steers the boat,
So sure where to turn,
Where to find the dolphins.
I want to be like him,
So fit, so strong,
To make the ocean
His empire.
I want to be like him,
With a home,
With a family who waits
For his return.
I want to be like him,
A fisherman, a strong man,
Like a force of nature,
Charging into the faith of life.
I want to be like him,
Sure, real, practical,
Working hard,
With an aim.
I want to be like him,
Smiling through his pain,
The pain in his shoulder
From the years of steering.
I want to be like him,
Who knows nothing
Of physiotherapy
And painkillers.
I want to be like him,
With just one family,
One aim,
One life.
I want to be like him,
With one love,
And maybe some to follow,
One heart.
I want to be like him,
Who's first love is the ocean,
And second the world around,
And his smile takes over.
I want to be like him,
Calm, loving, caring
To the ocean around him,
Lusting its rage.
I want to be like him,
Lusting the ocean's wrath,
Its desire, its hate and love,
Its calm before the storm.
I want to be like him,
Him one with her,
Her, the ocean,
Tame to him.
I want to be like him,
Taming and calming,
Raging and soaring,
All at once.
I want to be like him,
Him one with her,
Her, the ocean,
Obeying him.
I want to be like him,
Lusting, needing her,
Her, the ocean,
Lusting, needing him.

sunday scribblings: trust

Title: rewind

the piano plays,
our hands touch.
the ocean softens,
the symphony of sounds is beautiful.
our fingers seep through the sand,
our toes step into the sea.
our lips touch,
its magic.
our hands touch,
rough with sand morsels.
we kiss, can't stop now,
my anklets sing.
the cool water is upto our knees now,
too far from the sand.
we fall, free fall into the water,
our hands still together, our lips too.
underwater, a little deeper,
our hands still together, our lips too.
we sway with the water,
our hands still together, our lips too.
our feet tangled around each other,
our hands still together, our lips too.

i let go, i stop,
that's enough.
i stand up, with water almost to my neck,
i pull closer to the ear, our fingers touch.
"i don't trust you," i say,
i walk away.
sand at my feet,
water trickles down my neck.
our hands still together, our lips too,
but its just a dream, and the piano plays on.

--Prompted by: http://sundayscribblings.blogspot.com/2009/02/151-trust.html