You called me extraordinary;
my little, sheltered soul
in my shack by the sea,
eating seaweed.
I was so surprised,
I cried
just a little;
I admired you so.
To strip away self-doubt
to the bare rawness that remains,
lighten the load;
seeds I have sowed
& never thought that they would grow.
Like that coffee cup
emptied of grains,
but flowering anyway,
you turned on me your gaze;
afraid to look away.
To define is a line
that’s paper thin.
Sometimes we walk it straight,
sometimes we will waver.
How strange to meet you at the line;
touching distance,
muse becomes man.
You give me your strong hand,
your voice
& magnify my mild mind,
as though I deserve it:
the name
you gave
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Author:
rebmasters (
Offline) - Published: August 9th, 2021 03:47
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 25
- User favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek.
Offline)
Comments1
'To define is a line
that’s paper thin.
Sometimes we walk it straight,
sometimes we will waver.
How strange to meet you at the line'..
whether in mere fictionalised inspiration
or reality's, experienced gratitude
whomever planted: within you
such words, imbued with sincerity
of that realised potential, of-self
deserves
all immense accolades, however
short lived or lasting, their presence in your life;
for they've inspired a dedication and testimony
of poetic reverence
that few of us would dare dream, aspire - to...!
(such a graceful tribute and dedication
and a delectably poetic read
thank you! dear poet)
Thank you my dear. I do owe a lot to my wonderful, wild & beautiful muse. & also to your encouragement too - what a beautiful comment to treasure, remember and re-read in darker times. Thank you ❤
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