Yesterday I was writing poetry
Tonight I have written some essays.
It is almost midnight, so I shall share the poem I wrote last night:
My ship gently drifting,
on the calmest of oceans.
The breeze only caressing
the lightest shades of blue.
Deep below is the world,
and deep above are the others.
Slipping into the richest shades of blue.
Myself, the softest diamond light.
The saline sea supports me,
and unseen currents drift lazily.
Within the middle distance,
there is hope.
A laughter-filled island palace,
with the clatter of platter that
mixes the chatter.
I’m so hungry.
My mouth begins to water
as the smells wash over my boat.
My elaborate fantasy,
Edging forward, metre by metre.
With a heaving sigh,
my raft hits the shore.
My satellite watches from afar
as I take my first steps on paradise.
My feet sink into the whitest sand,
shakily, I walk to the palace,
following a path, sheltered by palm trees.
In anticipation, I knock at the door.
Perhaps weeks pass,
I eat, drink and sleep.
In paradise I am content.
The sky is obscured by a storm.
As the rain begins to pour,
my illusion washes away.
My satellite unable to project a hologram,
my island left deserted.
Months of feasting on the lonely coconut tree,
sheltering under its thinning leaves,
sleeping on the course blackened sand.
My fantasy, a lie.