I am the fishing boats
When the long night comes
Empty of their catch
Anchored and tied
Listless without heading
Quiet but for a slow, tired rubbing
I am the wide canal
Early at morn
Shrouded in her mists
Fiercely raging or deathly still
Imprisoned in stone
Patrolled by knotty pines and oaks
I am the northeast wind
Singing in icy gales
Headstrong and blind
A siren's cry to a sailor long off the ocean
The one a warm heart
Wishes only to feel no more
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I don't do well writing
I don't do well writing reviews, but I know "I like this one" is trite and doesn't really say much...so I'll attempt to be more succinct.
It has a good rythm, which catches my attention. It's short metered, but I don't mind that. It works well. It isn't overly-descriptive, it isn't complex in the wording and it isn't heavy or condescending. All in all it's a poem I would like to read over and over, each time finding a new discovery in the words. Nicely done.
Melanie Joy
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