POEM: Seagull Sausages.

Sometimes I think

I’m the only one

On this beach

Without a dog.

Not a metaphor, just a dog.

I could say

I walk this beach alone

But it’s not a metaphor

Just a choice.

Sometimes I am lonely

But it’s not the beach’s fault.

The tide goes in and out

Without me.

The sands sift through time

Without me.

The rocks along the marsh

Erode

Without me.

The marsh itself

Has its own ecosystem

Its own wildlife

It all moves along swiftly

Without me.

So what am I to all of them?

What am I,

In my solitude,

To the flock of birds

Above me, flying south?

What am I,

In my solitude,

To the crabs

That scuttle across the beach?

What am I,

In my solitude

To the dogs with their people,

Chasing tennis balls,

Getting exercise,

While I sit

In the shade of the rocks

With my notebook and pen?

What am I,

In my solitude,

To the Isles

I can make out

In the distance?

I went to one of those Isles once.

It was a group trip–

The last one with

My high school classmates.

I stayed behind and slept

While they went to breakfast

And ate seagull sausages.

I saw some of them

At a reunion not too long ago

(At a beach, but a different one).

They’re all getting older.

I’m not

Is that why I’m

Still spinning my wheels,

Because I’m afraid

Of getting older?

What am I,

As I grow old,

To the beach around me?

This beach is much

Older than I am.

Time here

Doesn’t move along

But goes in and out

With the tides.

I feel comfortable here

Alone.

I don’t need a dog.

When I go back

To the human world

Then I can worry about

Such things.

—–

Then something distracted me as I got to that point in the poem. It wasn’t just that my train of thought was broken. The distraction involved somebody walking by me in a manner that not only drew my attention but related to that last four lines. I looked back at the poem and realized that I did in fact have a good end there. I was then going to write a new blog post for the day. I then realized that even thought the poem wasn’t exactly the same word count that I usually do it took the same length of time and had more of an emotive quality to it (at least in terms of making it) than one of my usual blog posts. I won’t normally throw these explanations on the end of every poem as I want them to speak for themselves. I just wanted to add a note that I know this poem is a first draft. That’s probably all I’m going to add here. I just got back into writing poetry; we’ll see how I feel about publishing later drafts here.

I’m still in the mindset that I won’t really “make it” with a poem if it isn’t in a print publication. I know that’s wrong nowadays but it’s a feeling that’s hard to let go….

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