He walked out from shore,
water lapping
at his ankles, and remained
far out to sea,
a speck missed
among the waves.

He still stands:
one small miracle,

No one breaks bread
and thinks of him.

The man knows nothing
but wind and sun,
the spray of water,
raw current
coursing through his veins
in every storm.

A seagull
sometimes perches
on his head.
For dVerse Open Link Night


28 thoughts on “Buoy

  1. This is a great representation of the insignificance of the bouy, how small they are out at sea, lonely a speck, but really they do such an important job. you have made the picture so clear, and simple – great!

  2. nice imagery. mystic too. the buoy keeps its place, does its job, because it is fastened to the ocean’s floor. just like they fastened criminals to crucifixes long ago.

  3. This is an intriguing. poem…..I had to read it twice , but that was great!

    A simple poem that speaks volumes, depending upon the reader..

    I love this line: No one breaks bread, and thinks of him.

    A lonely, sad thought, but it applies to many circumstances.

    Lovely, Matt.

    Lady Nyo

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