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Wandering, Not Lost

He just slipped away no one noticed his leaving as he drifted rudderless, ambivalent, mocked by the windless sails of tattered memory. He would return sit idly anchored to a moment his voyages vague longings, failing sunsets erasing cold horizons. His empty sailboat strains against old tides, aches to feel the rise of salted crests, celebrate each creaky brine stained board. To sail ……..into his emptiness ………….alone. ©12/4/2021 Pick A title Vol 27 Poetry Contest

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

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Date: 1/1/2022 11:46:00 AM
Heartiest congratulations on your win in my contest, John:-) Such a fabulous poem!
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Date: 12/31/2021 10:03:00 PM
Great Narration .Congratulations!
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Date: 12/6/2021 3:53:00 PM
This wanderer's sadness is too painful to bear. Powerful penning, John.
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Date: 12/5/2021 4:54:00 AM
Thanks Lin, for stopping to read and comment and playing in the metaphor...and is tinged with "The Old Man and the Sea".
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Date: 12/4/2021 8:06:00 AM
John, your lines created the image of an older man, sitting on the shore, looking longingly at his sailboat. It's tied to a pier, and through your personification, longs to be gliding over waves of the sea. The two belong together, sort of like post Hemingway's 'Old Man and the Sea.' "...mocked by the windless sails of tattered memory." Great line!
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John lawless
Date: 12/5/2021 4:56:00 AM
OOPS...posted my response as a comment.....