Working Metaphore

Poem By Poet Dragon

Work is like an island in an ocean of time
Landing on this shore felt like paradise
But the island is small and quickly grows boring
I am standing in the water, looking out as I work

Time passes in portions of half an hour
Wave upon wave of life slipping down the tide-line
I am deciding whether to let go and wash away with it
Or hold on and climb the beach again

How many islands are in this ocean?
I gaze out and see a few just waiting for me
Can I swim to them, will they take me?
In the water between them, is there love lurking?

Changes are on the horizon, as a tsunami
Rolling towards this island invisibly, towards me
None of the islands will survive it, I fear
Or maybe only I will be washed away into oblivion

Tick, splash, tick, splash, wave upon wave of half hours
Carrying me just a little further from the dry sand
Behind me, the managers are calling from the trees
I hesitate for a moment, and let the waves wash over me

Only a few more, and I can swim for a while,
I might ride the changes to a far away place if I'm swimming
In the water I can meet another, to drown my regrets of the last
The waves wash over me, and I wait for the tide to swim

Comments about Working Metaphore

There is no comment submitted by members.

Rating Card

5 out of 5
0 total ratings

Other poems of DRAGON

Poet Dragon

'Within you lurks a Poet and a Dragon.'
A phrase which carries ambience and flair.
The words of one are passionate and poison
The other one, psychotic, doesn't care


What was there left of her
after the bad men touched her?
What fragile sense of wonder shattered?

Growing Pains

I thought it hurt to grow up
when my legs became shards of pain
that kept me up all night
crying tears and clinging to mommy

Glasses Half Empty

They are glasses half empty,
and hearts half full,
riding their dreams until their courage fails them,
stopping halfway


Here the chains lie, sleeping only
clinking gently on the ancient stonework
steadily beating away, tink, tink, tink
With each massive breath and flutter of scales

Questions From A Bi-Polar Freak...

Why the rage? Why the burden?
I can dropp it all without a second thought
except to linger and spread word of handsome things