Growing Up
Saying Goodbye

Disappointment

I am but a sailor on the rough tides upon us.
My ship nothing but driftwood on the beast that we call the present.
My cremates just as fearful as I.

The rumors told me docks were closed until the storm passed,
but there might be some cleanup.
Our scurry to the other lands
was most definitely canceled, and so were my mates.

Worrying is the least of our worries
Death shall come.
I knew those docks won't open for us
The dockers only know to close
because they were told

The dirty dockers only listen to high up stuck ups, who can't keep their mouth shut.
I didn't leave my family to pass this way.
Instead of a flower bed, all I get is the dread of a watery grave.
"Oh, we will let you in," they say, with their grins as big as their lies they spout from their disgusting face.

 

I know it is to protect others.

 

But really?

Are you kidding?

Yes, I'm dead to the storm brewing ahead, but what about those souls who work every day, and will die to the freezing cold water then?

 

What will they say?

Comments

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Nick Brady

It's nice that you choose to extend your poem instead of just a three line haiku. The extra length really adds another dimension of what you can discuss and leave with the reader, and you used that to its full extent here. It was also interesting to see your interjected thoughts at the end, breaking with the style but in a way that doesn't detract from the piece.

Fitz...

Holy schmoly, this is simply an awesome poem! Thanks!

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