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Futility in Key West

Rating: 4.0

I was stretched out on the couch, about to doze off, when I imagined a small figure asleep on a couch identical to mine. "Wake up, little man, wake up," I cried. "The one you're waiting for is rising from the sea, wrapped in spume, and soon will come ashore. Beneath her feet the melancholy garden will turn bright green and the breezes will be light as babies' breath. Wake up, before this creature of the deep is gone and everything goes blank as sleep." How hard I try to wake the little man, how hard he sleeps. And the one who rose from the sea, her moment gone, how hard she has become—how hard those burning eyes, that burning hair.

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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Edward Kofi Louis 04 September 2019

Rising from the sea! ! Thanks for sharing this poem with us.

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Banamala Sen 04 September 2019

Very modern poem indeed! Congratulations!

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Kumarmani Mahakul 04 September 2019

" Wake up, little man, wake up, " I cried. " The one you're waiting for is rising from the sea, wrapped in spume, and soon will come ashore.....outstanding conceptualization. Beautiful poem.

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