An anchored boat sits
empty and bereft
in the silent darkness of a moonless night.
Yet his reflection sails and rides
the obsidian waters of a barely undulating sea.
Steel wires bend and fold
The mast breakdances
Furled sails lose their meaning
and fly without stretching.
The image, untamed, breathes,
uncovers the dreams, the soul,
of that lonely hull
moored to the pier
like a tethered wild horse
who remembers freedom.
Omg this is so badass
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I’m laughing! Thank you. Badass, hey? 🙂
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It totally was. Can’t tell you why exactly. I was just reading along and a feeling started building, and when it was finally put into words, that’s the word that came out 🙂
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Love the tethered wild horse analogy, Em. Perfect.
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Thanks John. Walking around the marina at night has a certain melancholy in the winter, when so few people are around. Boats and horses run like the wind and with it, so it just flowed.
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A word painting filled with pungent metaphors… amazing
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I can see you wiggle your nose going “whoaa!”.
Thanks Marcus. 🙂
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Loved the poem, Emm. Just a note…, boats are always female. An old sailor told me that.
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Glad you liked it Paul.
You are right of course; but I think that if I had remembered that, I probably wouldn’t have dreamed the poem. The boat made me think of mustangs running wild… and spirited stallions. A mare… well, it’s just not the same, is it?
My excuse? A boat is masculine in French, ergo… I never saw the problem.
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Fitting picture for a nice poem
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Thank you Noel. I love that red boat!
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Wonderful
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Thank you so much.
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