Ocean Me
The ocean breeze never shuts up.
Currents, rough currents.
Washing up on that horrible shore when there’s better places.
This beach ball.
It’s like my disability.
Gets messy from sand, and tapped lightly into the air.
Except, such a beach ball gets put away eventually.
Deflated.
Defeated from being a beach ball at the end of the day.
The ocean breeze is sandy failure.
Whooshing sounds of people splashing.
My disability.
Gets passed around like a little shovel used for sandcastles.
Gets left behind on the shore as the shore shifts.
The breeze never stops.
The shoreline is changing.
I’m proud of the tangled seaweed.
That feels like something.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.