Thursday, May 17, 2012


Once I was brave, only a little
My heart swelled, my throat pounding,
I couldn't keep from hearing it
In my ears, but the waves crashed
And sprayed my knees, the white caps
Rolled and I let them pull me under.

Each moment the light shines, hitting skin,
Floating down, sinking in; the warmth
Comforts, I let my freckles appear, reluctantly.
Eventually a shadow is cast, a cloud
Comes to call, goose bumps break out;
Hold me, keep me from the cold.

I don't write poetry, unless of course I do.
It might not be good, or pretty, or rhyme,
Poetry is a mood, it's a mindset,
An emotion. The words only matter
If you read them with your heart,
not your eyes, they deceive.


Donna Boucher said...

Poetry is deep.

Anonymous said...

Dear Emma, I loved your poem. Hope you will keep writing poetry. It is sometimes the best way to express what you feel when regular wording just does not work or apply. Keeping you in our prayers. love, nana jep

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