Ocean Angel

Fri, 11/06/2015 - 01:35 -- AngelP

Through a set of solar eclipse eyes over the ocean, I see.  

The blue hue enhances every emotion, the tears especially vibrant in their rarity.  

No males have scaled my bunny brown brushed locks to reach the doll poised and ruby colored lips.

That is -none that know my Nike and Beatrice.  

My greatest victory: resiliency, since I have bounced back after losing my brother Nick.

My wit: of course a course in AP Lit making me think metacognitively, on the outskirts of reality where many think about what they must do, but I think about why I’m thinking about what I think, I think I must do to get along.

Perhaps persistence prevents me from tipping under the weight of not only the physical squats, and dips,   but the mental challenges and pressures of risk.

I risk my heart through the missed notes and cracks creasing the once smooth satin of my song.

I risk criticism creating complacency so that my desires to write, speak, and change lives become like bleach in a bathtub -dangerous until diluted.

I risk the noose of nonsense tightening around my throat, telling me nothing exists in the pursuit of talent.  

However, hanging happily above the scars of tried and failed is what killed the cat.

An intangible urgency to know the unknown.

To intensify interest like Icarus flying towards the sun...instead though waging my downfall and gaining the knowledge for which I have come.

I pick up like a push up with forces burdening each arm, one the force of “she’s” and the other the force of “smart.”

Within gender generalities my triumphs seem monumental, though my mothers “take the upper hand” defines my leadership as genetic.

These limbs of mine are not all push and hurt, I do like to take my time

It’s ticking, though, like a backboard of confusion illuminating the illusion that life is calm interrupted by chaos.

A friend once relaid in reference to me “some people never change”  

To counter that, I continually change in ebbs of calm and strive through life’s chaos.

Naturally the ebbs occur on that through which I see- the I am, myself worth, and ocean of me.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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