It's been a few week's since my last post because of various things that have been going on, but here's a poem I wrote today along with some photos I took on my recent weekend away in Flamborough on the east coast.
Wish.
Waves of water and white foam
wash up on white rocks,
wandering to white cliffs.
Wind wailing and whooshing.
Weeping, I wonder
whether I would be well here.
I would, I know.
It is idyllic
under indigo night sky,
illuminated by infinite stars.
Ideal for I.
Isolation from individuals' icy stares.
Suburbs are stifling, suffocating,
squashing my every breath,
silencing my every sigh.
Sadness. Solitude of a searing sort.
Smiles so insincere. Selfish souls
scattered on every single street.
Happiness hides in hopes of a home,
a harmonious habitat far from here.
No harm or harshness, human-made,
can hurt me or hold me
in horrible, hostile lands.
My happy heart, wholly in my hands.
© V. H. Stone
