Wading Poems - Poems about Wading

And here I am, jeans rolled up to the knees, barefoot, wading the shallows with arguments tugging at my feet, pulling me out as if answers were waiting beyond where the water lifts into breaking waves, the calm on the end of a rip. The incessant call washes unrest across my feet and seeps into where it tunes itself to the notes of a longing. Plucked by...

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I sometimes feel like I want to die. Some days I wonder why I even try. So many times I feel so alone. Can't seem to even figure out when I'm using a tone. Torn between needing to cry and needing to scream... What happened to what once felt like the kinda love that some only dream? I hear you...

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Tired of the mind stuff. It's hard to be free of all those words that drag behind like a long chain, clinking in the silence. Each weighted step leaves evidence, deep prints beyond the reach of waves and tide. They stay, fossilized in stone, stretched back across time, hanging on to the heel and added to by every taken step. Think of wading out...

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To beautify him further lacks only a gilded spark divine, love eternal unbound. The night was young we stood closely, the moment held, we shared a kiss. His incendiary sunshine smile could melt the polar ice and snowy ground. I wade pining for another touch of your lips, silky and warm, rhapsody’s bliss. The night was young, we stood...

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Last year I got into trouble; It was certain my digits would double! "Eighty-seventh time!" Meant stop, that's the line! Now my clear upper limit's a puddle!...

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Not sure where we stand We must agree on a plan ...

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Farewell, Youthful Days Of Wading In Crystal Clear Streams Farewell, the coming dawn and its soft, golden glow born as infant fawn, a peaceful river in flow or a memory of life beneath crescent moon Refreshing breeze, shade's breath, simmering in hot June. Farewell, that dream, a glory yet to be unfurled Predawn vision of happiness in this sad world or true...

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nine years ago today my sweet sister Karen took her last breath under a Colorado Pine - feels like yesterday... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ every New Year’s Eve i write of you, for your death has given much debris- nine years of wading in your reverie, resolutions of trying to break through all the tides cascading in a rippled sea... o, a rippled sea...

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Silk wading thru wistfully warm sea waters, my dreamy fingers have lingered to potter with ocean surface, sun sparkled glitters. My poetic pieces have gone full twitter in charmed waters of crystal-clear rarity where I felt God's love soothe life's severity. Slowly easing into ocean powered waves, my playful moods have seriously caved from forceful, salt stinging, brutal wave smacks. My body has ached...

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riding gravel roads, windows down finding a favorite shady spot afternoon picnic, wading in the creek Saturday Surprise from my childhood let's go out to eat, fifties style. August 27, 2019 Writing Challenge 3, August 2019 - Five Lines - Sponsor - Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode...

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I am watering my flowers and some bushes. I have a plethora of vegetation here. Next I shall fill up the wading pool with fresh water. Not because there are any children here, but because my husband once saw a thirsty fox on a hot day trying to drink out of an empty wading pool....

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Summer, you are so warm and full of fun no secret children love to wade, swim, play in the cool pond when winter they had none. Days brief the sunshine hurry upon their way. 5/15/2019 A Dream Worth Living A dream worth living for Born in the image of an unspoiled soul Newborn stretches it's small limbs Hungers, cries,...

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133 So moving on I wade through The poetry Waiting for What I will see When I get back out...

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Before I leave from this world A vision of you I yearn to see Intrepidly my heart leads on I possess the door but not the key A swan on this lake of love Loneliness, finally, has reared its head Cold is the lake I am drifting on I search the shallows for warmth instead No comfort to be found for my aching...

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Wading In Coolest Streams Of Subconscious Delights Often I wish my life had been a lost feather, blowing up high within a sea swept moaning gale. Lost but quite content in such furious weather spirit justly weighted upon a cosmic scale. Often this young heart seeks even greater release wading in coolest streams of subconscious delights. Seeking love and joy greater than...

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