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As I stand with my feet in the ocean,
and look at the setting sun,
I think of how many me's,
have stood in how many seas,
but always stared at the same one.

A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me,
at various times of my being.
A new version of me every single time;
the same star I'm always seeing.

It fills me with curious wonder,
for the places that I may go;
And the life that has yet to happen,
and the things I have yet to know.

Jess

Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

To Dance Beneath the Pine

In a storm I glimpse my soul Searching for lost branches Fallen to the wind Decomposing with time. Michelle  
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Tang Yellows and Sung Blues

Beneath the dome of autumnal beech amber hues and jasper green tang-yellow leaves. The sung blue-grey sky and speckled shade on the tender crisp-lined track. Egyptian buff-brown Vigorous and stout trunks Lengthening skyward. Stephanie
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After Ozymandias

I met this itinerant in a van He says, “two huge cables dangle from cliffs In Dunwich, on the slant, with a casing round There’s printing on it where the shingle shifts And drags at the retreating sandy ground A bold script part-survives through rust, in blue A knowing, falsely modest, lower case Proclaims a proud legend for all to view Who crunch along the edge of Doggerland It tells me that the national grid renew… the rest corrodes into the shingle strand And that’s it. I’d have liked a cup of tea But the café is long gone beneath the waves” A gull skims the surface of the grey sea. Rod Smith
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Orwell Mud

Sticky ditches Wading friend Stream bend. Sun lit fields Winter sun Walking fun. Riff of branches Tree silhouettes Breaking a sweat. Down the Orwell Stuck in the mud Squelch and thud. Muddy but free to foodhall for tea. Hannah  
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Forever Searching

Search the walls Scan the corridors Express the highs Scribble the lows Writing explores The state of my mind.   Judith  
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Jungle Walk, Henstead Exotic Garden, Suffolk.

Broad-leaved trees, spreading palms, fingers outstretched, shield me from the sun’s heat. Beneath a green umbrella’s shade, the perfect spot on a blistering summer’s day, so cool, serene. Round, fluted lily pads rest flat on inky waters where golden fish glide, finding refuge in silence. A tiny oasis, place of shelter enfolding, embracing me within its safe circumference. Julia Duke
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Lace-like Shadows

Dancing with lace-like shadows of forgotten worlds, the tortoiseshell creeps slowly, the last energies to lie upon the rough bark. With folded wings, Madame butterfly is no more til Spring. Charlotte
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Green Swatches

My body will forget My thoughts will be Scattered Amongst Winter's Gloom. Amongst Nature’s Seasoned robes I walk and restore My broken thoughts. With widening strides I turn to the botanical essence Leaving traces of desire. To swatches of green I turn my attentiveness To refresh tomorrow’s thoughts. Jim  
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Post Traumatic Stress

Your steps alert yet furtive, Your actions so subdued, The walls you'd built around yourself, No others heard or viewed. Your senses sharp and heightened, Reacting to small cues, Kept memories lingering in your head No others heard your news. Self protection served its purpose, Of course, and that made sense, But little did you know that, It was all in the past tense. Relief it was short lived, in fact, The price that was to pay Was that years had passed before your eyes With not living in today. So walls built strong like concrete, Impermeable to most, Restricted you so badly, With the past a haunting ghost. Those dreams seemed like reality, Like you were still right there, The terror you experienced then again, Unjust and unfair. In later years you found a way, A chance to start again, Each gentle step to live once more, Crawling gently from your den. Putting back the chaos, That ran amok inside your head, Gave you strength to start to live, And deal with all the dread. Then pea...
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Who Is Saving The World?

The recycler, bicycler, bio-masser and solar paneller, the sustainable developer, the charity worker, the medics (sans frontieres?), fundraisers and carers, givers and listeners, growers of organics, designers of biodegradables. Genetic engineers? Surgeons and researchers, forgivers and forgetters, Billy the bug hunter, Immy the mathematician, Troy the paratriathelete, Wendy the wigwam maker. The ones who go last, the ones who smile, the ones who don’t want to argue about it, the ones who give up their seat, the ones who calm a storm, the ones who cook up a feast, the ones who sing praises, the ones who shine, Auntie Gwen and Malala…… ….and I drink water from a glass bottle. Sue Foster Image by Fernando via Unsplash .
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