Washboards and Ripples

washboard clouds

The Med fashions ripples of sand
As the wind blows musings in cloudy ridges

Washboard clouds and sand
Scrubbing thoughts rolling them over
Looking for a path to let it go
to retain the clean pure and true
to create a world where Puff lives forever
drinks tea with fairies
and gives away the beauty stick.

My words are frozen
Held back in tight silos
At times so quiet
the soul becomes silent
Or worse comatose.

Words behind bars grip
shadows of thoughts and feelings
Afraid to let them go.
If they should escape
What chaos could follow?

If words become things
What will then flood the heart?
Will it smile sing or cry?
Will it soar or curl up then petrify?
Will it wish to stop beating?

The Med draws washboards on the sand
High winds blow her thoughts in cloudy ridges

words behind bars

About emmylgant

Cloud watcher and dreamer sometimes wise, often foolish, but I am what I am.
This entry was posted in Life, Pandora's box, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

14 Responses to Washboards and Ripples

  1. john zande says:

    Puff, as in Puff the Magic Dragon? Love. Love. Love!


  2. arjaybe says:

    As the sea shapes the sand, so the sky shapes the clouds. What shapes you, em? Words? Feelings?



  3. Randstein says:

    I am so glad to see you back again, Em, and with a beautiful poem. The magic never leaves you. I feel very much the struggle to release those words I fill my own silos with. And as in your poem, once released they bring all those things your write about. But such is life, no?


    • emmylgant says:

      Sometimes it’s just hard to give a permanence to fleeting thoughts with words. Because, as you know, once spoken or written, they take on a life of their own.
      Thank you for waiting D. and feeling the magic.
      And a gentle touch for Wee WN. I am sure he knows Puff. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • Randstein says:

        Yes, a life of their own and in the wrong minds, my words have come back as a stiletto aimed at my heart. Sometimes, they are more beautiful left alone to mimic silence and the solitude it brings. WN loved the song about Puff when he was a mere hatchling. I think it was that song where he learned to Snoopy dance. 🙂


  4. Sometimes AnElephant struggles to find the superlatives required, peu importe quelle langue.
    La magie est toujours magique.
    Et toi, tu es au dessus de tous les autres poetes.


    • emmylgant says:

      Tu comprends bien mes histoires.
      Ta confiance en moi m’élève et me rassure quand j’ai peur d’échouer.
      Tu me fais chaud au cœur. Merci.


  5. PapaBear says:

    Emm, this one didn’t need pictures. It stands on its own merit. What you’ve done here is pure magic. By the way, it’s nice to see you out here again. 🙂


  6. alarmingman says:

    The mirroring of the washboard in the sand and the clouds – wow


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