Washed upon a sandy shore
Tossed asunder by the waves of life
I am left an empty shell
of a person I once was
A spirit eroded by
the surf's constant battering
A passion extinguished
by the relentless waves
Disappointments and setbacks
forced hope to take leave
With that lifeline broken
All that remained withered quickly
Abandoned by life
Now open and bare
The shell now lies empty
A testament to who once lived there
Tossed asunder by the waves of life
I am left an empty shell
of a person I once was
A spirit eroded by
the surf's constant battering
A passion extinguished
by the relentless waves
Disappointments and setbacks
forced hope to take leave
With that lifeline broken
All that remained withered quickly
Abandoned by life
Now open and bare
The shell now lies empty
A testament to who once lived there
10 comments:
Beautiful, but heartbreaking.
I collect shells. You've probably noticed a big bowl under the painting in the foyer. It holds all the shells I truly cherish, including three small ones brought back from Australia by my Marine Biology professor almost 20 years ago. He went during the Christmas holiday to snorkel off the great barrier reef, and I swear to God, he brought back shells for everyone in class. Yes, he was that kind and thoughtful. Ohno's favorite thing in the whole world is stealing shells from that bowl then knocking them around the whole house. He seems particualarly attracted to my favorite Australian shell and I'm forever rescuing it and saying "NO." I think he might be deaf.
Remember the last crystal that was missing because Ohno stole it. Guess where I found it months later? Yup, buried in the shell bowl. What can you do? Laugh!
Baby, I'm so worried about you. You know how I worry. It's wonderful you can use a shell as a metaphor for your current situation, but it represents saddness to you, and to me only joy and beauty. I went out to the foyer and found my favorite Australian shell and have it here with me while I type this. It's gorgeous and so is the shell you have in the photo. And the beach, and the waves. Look how beautiful the ocean is darling. Please take time to go out and do something kind for yourself: a walk, golf, a museum, a baseball game, a really juicy hamburger (you bet your ass I'm gulping for air with that one!), pizza. Just be kind to yourself then look around. I mean, really, really look around. At the people, the architecture, plants, trees and sky. This life is a gift darling. It is.
I love you very much,
Blottie
Wow. Very good poem, Bob.
And a true testament to the fact that somewhere, deep inside that shell, there exists still quite a lovely passion for writing. Beautifully done, Bob...
And that is precisely how I felt this past week.
I'm feeling much better this half of the week.
I don't know what to say. I read it, though.
Go to The Wild Onion. We have a birthday.
Wow. Bob, you should write more poems.
Like Megan, I'm sort of at a loss for words. Sure, it is a beautiful poem, but we all know the underlying meaning and significance to the author. I really don't want to come off as a bitch with this comment, because I worry about you, and my heart aches that you are so lost. But really, what makes your life so much more unbarable for you than my life is for me? I mean, are your struggles really that much harder than my struggles have been? Or than Megan's struggles, or Suzanne's struggles, Or Karen's struggles? I could go down the entire list here. I know that depression hurts, and maybe I am just being callous, but I really don't understand why people are unable to look at life and see the beauty that it holds. Instead of seeing an empty shell, view it as a memory of the ocean waves beating against it to shape it into what it is today. That is what life has done to all of us. Life is like the ocean waves and we are that shell. It beats upon us and errodes part of us away, but, if it didn't do what it does, then we wouldn't be who we are. I know you are hurting because of your friend and his battle, and because of other battles of your own that I don't even know about, but life is not empty. But if you continue to view it that way, then it may become so. We all only have one life to live, Bob. I just don't choose to live mine wallowing in self pity and misery. I hope you don't hate me after this, but this is how I feel. And if friends can't be honest with one another, then they really are not friends.
Good luck in finding a way to fill that empty shell, Bob. And please don't hesitate to ask if you would like for me to help.
hi bob
i've gotta say i'm with cece in wondering why your lfe sucks so much more than everyone elses.
i guess thats why depression is so alienating.
i cant say i get it but i can say i want to see you better. i probably cant help from this side of the world but if i could you would only need to ask
xx
Hi Bob,
What a heartfelt poem.
Surely it can't be all that bad??
Here's a man hug from me to you:
(( ))
Keep your pecker up.
Cheers,
Mark.
sad and beautiful.
hugs.
Just checking on you to make sure you are ok. I'm sending happy thoughts to you.
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