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having reached the breaking point
i can go on no more
it's as if i'm on the shore
staring into crashing whitecaps

should i plunge in,
or turn my back to the sea?
there's only so much time
one soul can grieve

one foot in the water
i can neither turn back
nor turn around
the beach is silent,
nary a sound

-frozen-
until time has decreed
to be swept away
with the incoming tide
©2004-2009 ~phoenixtx
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Submitted: January 25, 2004
File Size: 584 bytes
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Resolution: 352×288
Comments: 6
Favourites & Collections: 3 [who?]

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as depression washes over, suicidal temptation becomes great
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Comments


I love the connection made here between the sea and the emotions. I think this is one of your best works I've read.

--
==========
trends arise and descend
true beauty never ends
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member of ~dark-writing ~alug *daac adopted by: *earthfaerie
Great poem. I like the metaphor of the ocean. You did a good job of conveying the emotion. I could only hope one wouldn't give into that temptation no matter how great.

--
"Live like you'll never die, love like you've never been hurt, dance like no one is watching."

~Vivita
Believe me this IS a first for me :)

adding a poem as a favourite...who woulda thought it :)

.....hmm the reason? this poem gave me goose gimples ...nuff said

-gets up to close the window-
When writing a poem about grief, if there isn't any grief in it it has a tendancy to lose some focus. "There's only so much time, one soul can grieve" could be a good line if it's emerging into another way of thinking. Otherwise, there is an ever present danger of descending into adolescent angst, all pain and no reasons.

The sea is a very difficult thing to write about. Anything you may feel will inevitably seem diminished before the immensity of the ocean. The sea is constant yet ever changing, it has the capacity to wash anything...in time.

"nary a sound" that sets my teeth on edge. 'Nary' urrgghhh. Sorry, that's horrible. ;-)

I like the way you introduced immobility in the face the waves: "-frozen- , until time has decreed, to be swept away, with the incoming tide" the last stanza is by far the best. Here is the kernel of a remarkable poem.

Great potential in this, great potential.

--
"…No, you’re drinking’s not up to journalism and neither, probably, is your writing. Stick to criticism mate, you don’t have to be able to drink or write."

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