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  • Published: 12 May 2014
  • Updated: 12 May 2014
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the storms of life


1. Storm

The waves pull me this way then that.
Forwards and backwards they toss me.
Like a toy they manoeuvre me mercilessly,
crashing me against the solid, sharp rocks,
then dropping me to sink into the  dark depths.


These tumultuous waves are the motions of life.
The tides of age, beauty, wisdom and experience,
that push and pull, and the ideals of youthful joy,
the exuberance of childhood ebbs slowly away.
The dreams of that era unrealised, unfulfilled.


Like a distant memory the steady solid sand,
the sand that made up the golden shores,
slip further and further from touch and sight.
The golden sands of home and family slip away.
And we are left to stand on our own two feet.


The sky turns from the warm welcoming blue,

of the comforting childhood world you knew,

to an iron grey, edged with hard muted steel,

the chaotic harsh cut throat world of adulthood.

The storm grows slowly at first ever increasing.


The wind begins to howl a mournful melancholic melody.
The waves begin to roar and the sea saps strength.
The once safe boat into which you climbed in a storm
is gone, you need to make a boat of your own now.
It’s so hard to make a boat in these tearing seas

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