The world is turnin'...
This poem feels like stepping into a mind where wonder, confusion, longing and humour all collide in one trembling breath.
The sun as a “skull” captures that unsettling beauty we feel when the world seems both alive and slightly unhinged.
The volcanic sand reads like the speaker’s own scattered self, as if their thoughts have burst into drifting sparks.
The sea’s wild moods mirror the emotional tides we ride when everything inside us is louder than the world outside.
The musicians appearing like ghosts of memory make the poem feel dreamlike, as if the heart is casting its own film.
When the voice fades “singing of love”, there’s a tenderness that feels painfully recognisable the ache of wanting to be heard.
The clams’ chant ,“Who decides who’s crazy?” becomes a plea for gentleness in a world quick to label what it doesn’t understand.
Joy and devastation sit side by side, fragile as a balloon carrying kisses that never happened.
Leaving the heart by the water feels like a quiet surrender, trusting the sea to hold what the speaker cannot.
Even the fly in the soup becomes a tiny symbol of resilience dancing through absurdity with more confidence than any of us feel.
Thank you for your in-depth analysis of my poem. It’s much appreciated. 🌹
Lovely!
Thank you kindly! 🌹
Yes!
Oh eve this one…this is the one. Great stuff
Thank you kindly. 🌹
Bravo 👏
There was a year of my life when On the Beach was on loop.
I find that very relatable. 🌹
This poem feels like stepping into a mind where wonder, confusion, longing and humour all collide in one trembling breath.
The sun as a “skull” captures that unsettling beauty we feel when the world seems both alive and slightly unhinged.
The volcanic sand reads like the speaker’s own scattered self, as if their thoughts have burst into drifting sparks.
The sea’s wild moods mirror the emotional tides we ride when everything inside us is louder than the world outside.
The musicians appearing like ghosts of memory make the poem feel dreamlike, as if the heart is casting its own film.
When the voice fades “singing of love”, there’s a tenderness that feels painfully recognisable the ache of wanting to be heard.
The clams’ chant ,“Who decides who’s crazy?” becomes a plea for gentleness in a world quick to label what it doesn’t understand.
Joy and devastation sit side by side, fragile as a balloon carrying kisses that never happened.
Leaving the heart by the water feels like a quiet surrender, trusting the sea to hold what the speaker cannot.
Even the fly in the soup becomes a tiny symbol of resilience dancing through absurdity with more confidence than any of us feel.
Thank you for your in-depth analysis of my poem. It’s much appreciated. 🌹
Lovely!
Thank you kindly! 🌹
Yes!
Oh eve this one…this is the one. Great stuff
Thank you kindly. 🌹
Bravo 👏
Thank you kindly. 🌹
There was a year of my life when On the Beach was on loop.
I find that very relatable. 🌹