by
 
 
I am the fishing boats
When the long night comes 
Empty of their catch
Anchored and tied 
Listless without heading 
Quiet but for a slow, tired rubbing 
 
I am the wide canal
Early at morn 
Shrouded in her mists 
Fiercely raging or deathly still
Imprisoned in stone
Patrolled by knotty pines and oaks
 
I am the northeast wind
Singing in icy gales 
Headstrong and blind
A siren's cry to a sailor long off the ocean
The one a warm heart
Wishes only to feel no more 
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Melanie Joy's picture


I don't do well writing reviews, but I know "I like this one" is trite and doesn't really say much...so I'll attempt to be more succinct.

It has a good rythm, which catches my attention.  It's short metered, but I don't mind that. It works well.  It isn't overly-descriptive, it isn't complex in the wording and it isn't heavy or condescending.  All in all it's a poem I would like to read over and over, each time finding a new discovery in the words.  Nicely done.  

Melanie Joy

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