I have shoved myself into understanding. I am stinking seaweed slowly drifting Grasping at the undertow Scrambling scraping into the deep Viciously avoiding claws of crabs Awaiting on the shore. The land, it hungers,swallows Claims me for her own While I, detached, float freely... THERE'S SOMETHING ON THE SHORE Froth and foam cake my face Like babies on a spider's back Bubbles popping, the sea is parting Before my frenzied oyster flapping Muddled shapes beneath inviting Ignoring tidal formality THERE'S SOMETHING
Reason for writing:
This poem is a sad rationalization for my shyness around beautiful women--the ocean being a place of security and the shore embodying my fears.
Birth sign: Not entered
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View more poems by Tim Ward, Scorpio.