Searching for answers,
In the pencil box of Time,
In one infinite Ocean rhyme,
Called Poetry.
Finding only,
Empty shells,
By the Sea
Nothing gained,
Nada,
After so many years,
I can't even cry,
My questionable, tears.
In a way, I am glad that life is as short as it is; for at times, the emptiness is indeed overwhelming
I feel introspection from time to time is always useful. Let us act and think positive without losing hope. Let us not give such thoughts a damn: Finding only / Empty shells / By the Sea
Place your ear against a shell For there is where your answers dwell, oh the ocean is indeed the cradle to all poetry, another outstanding poem my friend
a wonderful and poetic expression of the moment. Soon Sandra, the muse will come and huge shells in which you can hear he sea will come to your feet. If manage to make it quiet in our room, in our heart, in our mind soul, it often suddenly lands on our shoulder. A heartfelt wish for strength and lots of love.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
The pencil box of time! Can you get more poetic than that! I love pencil boxes, pencil bags, pencil sharpeners, colored pencils, and most of all...erasers! Your pencil box is never empty Sandra, your shells will sound once again, and the emptiness will feel full. I love the idea of the infinite ocean rhyme. It's kind of like that when you're sitting out on the beach staring at the vast ocean and listening to the rhythmic waves over and over again. I think the repetitive melancholy moments feel like they will never end when they visit, but then they do....Peace and prolific-ness to you dear sister.