I’ve wanted an image conveying who I am;
I’ve toyed with badgers and psychedelia.

It hit me, though, today, what I am like.

I’m like a seashell.

Passive, on the beach;
Just watching others as they amble by,
But if you hold me up close to your ear,
You might hear the ocean,
The past or the future.

You might hear colors,
Or dream sounds.

Perhaps my real work was in
Making this shell
Into a home;
But you are welcome
To peek in
Or listen in.

Or just walk on by.


(“Seashell” – 3-20-2016)

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

9 thoughts on “Seashell”

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