I am a aspiring poet pursuing a degree in English. I am twenty-one years old and I have been writing since I was in grade school. I have written multiple pieces and to me poetry is a short hand version of the thoughts that race through my mind. I create images with my poems and tell stories that have developed in either my life or my mind. I love to write short stories as well. I write poems everyday and it is one of my passions. I tend to write poems of the narrative variation along with others. I write for myself and for those who have told me to pursue this passion of mine. The poem that I have selected to be a sample is one that I hold dear to my heart as it is of my home and where I lived for a short period of time. I read constantly and love to write as I stated above but I also love to swim and travel, which shows through my work. I want to post a poem a week in hopes that one day, it may be noticed. I hope you all enjoy my work.
Newport, Rhode Island Crisp air cuts through my skin, like paper to skin the warmth of the sun heats the metal of the railing below my hand, holding steady to the rough current below. Ropes of green curl below the surface, peeking through the waves, currents whip past the haul, my soul opens to the depths as I look out. Past the cobbled staircase surrounding the light house, and drifting across the horizon as a warmth of, crimson and apricot, lights up the sky, just moments before a cool breeze suffocates it. Lights begin to ring out along the shore, dancing along the waves, sounds of laughter ricochet off the whitecaps, depths of the unknown rests below the fiberglass. Haunting the dreams of some but calms my racing mind, miles and miles of rocky sand covers the horizon, sweeping motions create new pebbles and sea glass, of cerulean blue and lime green washing up on the shore. From my perch at the bow I see this, I feel the breeze against my cheek, the cold sweeping the tears away, ones that a brought about by the chilling air. Atop the waves I sit, perched on my family’s boat, looking out to the lighthouse just above the surface, I live for the sea and its comfort, and I do not ever wish to leave. It is here that salt fills my nose and smothers the city stench I run from, along the shore I feel safe, I can breathe and see what I am meant to see, as God has wished me too.
All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.
Newport, Rhode Island (03/02/2018)
Trust Is A Fickle Thing (03/02/2018)
Lies, Lies, and More Lies (03/02/2018)
Blog link: https://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/ktroberts
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