The powers of the wind leave my sails,
Sit adrift on waves of lamented entrails.
No fear do I find stalled here in thick mist,
Pale clouds surrounding,consumed I list.
Decay of wrought, leaves little intact.
Clapboards broken, ill fated in fact.
Some storms happen for others benefit,
Some only serve,the greater benevolent.
Perhaps it's penance, for some wrongful deed.
Or misfortunes bite, for wanting to believe.
That fate or creation,has a master plan.
Randomness laughs unrelenting,from where I land.
Life's squalls have battered,beaten me down.
My sailed too tattered, I've run aground.
Crew has deserted, this ships wrecked hull,
just phantom mist dissipating ,that's clearly all.
Author notes
Of a personal nature. Introspect ponderings.No need to comment,unless it holds something for you as well.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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i could'nt help relating to this poem being the weather beaten ship,tattered sails...unable keep afloat...slowly i become submerged...excellent poetry woman
mal
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