I could be the ocean
and that idea frightens me,
but if I think more openly,
I can begin to agree
that I could be the sea.
Troubled waters won't set my mind free
and I can feel a storm building inside of me,
while I try to sleep
so maybe,
I am the ocean
and maybe this is just a hyperbole
or an extended metaphor,
but can I win this war
If I'm falling through a trap door
that I can so clearly see?
Not me.
Maybe the idea of honesty is easier than an actual truth,
because my lies imply I'm in disguise
from my own soul...
Have I lost all self-control?
I cannot be the Ocean.
The Ocean works as one;
It's connected to the land
And reflects the midnight sun.
It's chaos and serenity;
a balance I'd like to own,
but because I work alone,
that desire is merely an undertone.
-m.
-
Author:
- M.M.K. (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2017 09:02
- Comment from author about the poem: This poem was a challenge and the only rule given to me was "about me". It was a topic and I didn't exactly follow it as I probably should have, but I felt that I came to terms with a fear of mine (so at least something came out of it). A fear I didn't even realized existed. You see, I have written so many poems and thoughts down comparing people to the ocean and it wasn't ever in much of a praising sense, but that was what I gravitated towards. If I were to put myself in a poem, I compared myself to a tree or a forest. Always. I feel spiritually connected to that lively world and I have always been attracted to the idea that once I'm dead and if I'm buried, my body can decay and be recycled back into the universe. I can grow with the trees and plants and give my nutrients and matter to this world I left behind and even if I were to be cremated, I have requested I would have my ashes released into nature. I prefer knowing I'll be reunited with my world rather than knowing I'll be sitting on a shelf, collecting dust being a stomach turning reminder that I once lived. I don't want that. I want to be free, even in death, but who knows. You can't plan an ideal death and your afterlife. That future is to be determined and forever pondered until your expiration. Death is not something I fantasize about, but it gives me peace of mind knowing I could be a part of nature after I die. That's all. Enough of background. As for this specific poem and that fear I mentioned, I suppose I've viewed the ocean as a terrifying place of the unknown. You can see how far it stretches, but to think of all that could be living in those waters, going about their lives until someone/thing decides to disturb their waters... I wonder how they feel about foreigners and intruders. I can't know this, but it's terrifying. The Ocean holds so much life and so many secrets and maybe so does the land upon our earth, but to be able to see much of the land and to not, of the ocean, is another reason why I'm so terrified. You can't be familiar with another world if you're an outsider. Literally. The Ocean is connected to our land, it's what aids in Division of it, but we are all still one. I could go on forever... feedback is welcome!
- Category: Nature
- Views: 59
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Comments2
Lovely work
Thank you very much
I could easily be buried at sea. Many of the old movies depicted such when a passenger of shipmate died, I could be bear scat for a mother with a cub. The ocean is so vast and powerful. It would be like being a God. The seas are calmer, not as scary. This is a great metaphor for the turmoil within, aware of the murderous rage that could be unleashed or the stability of the land. Between is the sea. Nicely done.
I'm glad that you saw something within my words and I believe that, inturn, both scenarios that you mentioned could happen. They are happening, right now. It's insane.
Also, I find your perception quite interesting, "This is a great metaphor for the turmoil within, aware of the murderous rage that could be unleashed or the stability of the land. Between is the sea."
After reading your comment, I found I was better able to understand what I was trying to voice and at first, I didn't go in with intention of this poem being so metaphorical nor when I finished, did I intend for it be true, but after rereading it and rereading your comment, I can see more to unintentional words. It's fascinating and I thank you for that, Augustus.
Such a generous reply. Thanks.
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