Scary Bird

Scary Bird
Bird at Castle Howard - photo by Jeremy Fiest

Monday, August 30, 2010

A Poem -- The Desert

Every now and then I feel the need to write a poem. Why? Maybe because in writing all the scripts and papers I do, something deeper builds up until it needs some form of release - like a giant ball inside my chest that needs plunged out through my face-hole. Sure, I find that in most writing, the writer experiences some level of true self-expression, however, in writing poems I've discovered maybe the absolute truest form of this.

Well, for myself anyway.

Okay, enough introduction. I like writing poems. That's all.

Please, leave comments, and...


The Desert

The terrain here is violent,
faces blank.
I search for water, but the space
devours me.
Stopping to watch a passing ghost
I realize
I know her face but not her name.

Vultures fly over head
and laugh together,
calling my name to come out and play.
They gave up on water
for the promise of meat, which burns them away
like soft paper.

When I was young, I swam
in an ocean.
But as the sun grew, so did the dry land
until raindrops
fled into the heavens, leaving behind
this eternal land.

My comrades encircle me,
pushing me to hunt,
pushing me to
But a single drop of water still remains
on my now drying lips
And I have not forgotten
The beauty of
The ocean.

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