Adrift Poem by Helen Wilson
Adrift
Adrift,
Sea tossed and salted,
Wind whipped and stranded on a bed of self doubt.
Festooned with crispy nerve weed
Floating in the hot oil of confusion and
Garnished with a sprinkling of pain.
The sorry outcome of an engine stalled,
Neglected and clogged with the grime of what-ifs.
Cogs worn down by raw emotion
No longer lubricated by action.
Growing older, idle
While others surf shoreward on breakers.
Unprepared for the freak wave of salvation,
The moment passed
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4/30/2024 11:59:18 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Helen, I am not sure what you were going for there, though I enjoyed it! I would like to toss an interesting interpretation at you, if I may ... An old sea - bird is caught in an oil spill, and cannot get out... as perhaps she once was able! As she watches the young ones ... her wave will never come! She knows it too! Thus, adrift ... O.K., Helen - - - please explain! I liked that version better than the one where she was plucked and deep - fried in hot oil, and served up on a bed of lettuce! Now you know what can happen if you don't state things clearly! - - - because, I suspect that I was wrong on both counts! ... and instinctively feel that YOU think that you should hit me with something heavy... many, many times!