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The Simple Life of a Drifting Wood

What am I to you But a piece of drifting wood, Lifeless and devoid of any direction For while it is , it has always been of me And as it flows i am dragged along with it What is peace to me? Having no objections Or no purpose of intention I am being dragged to unknown regions Sunk to varying depths of currents Twisted and resisted Adorned in gashes Flayed and enslaved by all those that are elements What am i to you But a piece of drifting wood Drenched and weighted down, Existing to be refuse Despised not to be burnt, As my should purpose Where I am going is Unknown to me Just a piece of drifting wood Being baked in torrent storms Scarred by inflicting Bleeding through tears What am I to you? Drifting wood? Refuse?

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Reason A. Poteet

Date: 3/7/2018 5:43:00 AM

You depict very well the fatalist mindset of so many youth today. How do we get around it? Even driftwood has its uses in decorative yardwork, even inside many more affluent homes. My cry to my nearly teenage grandson, you are worth much in the big picture of life; you just need to find out where your niche lies. My second treat of the day from your pen, Sizwe, I like your style.

Sizwe Hlabisa
Date: 3/7/2018 2:25:00 PM

Hi reason... Thank you so much for the positive words. I think u got wat i was trying to convey. I want people to think deeply, which I believe is the point of poetry. Much appreciated

Maureen Mcgreavy

Date: 10/27/2017 9:18:00 AM

Fantastic metaphor! Incredible pen. xomo!

Sizwe Hlabisa
Date: 10/27/2017 9:45:00 AM

Thank you Maureen. Much appreciated