Woodsy the Performance Poet

I wish you wanted me

in a gentle way
that made sense of shadows
on the days when the rains came.

I wish you wanted me

in a funny way –

funny strange,
like the leaves on sea trees,
growing out
beyond the tide
and dropping their plankton leaves up into sky…

or funny funny,
funny silly,
funny crazy like a barrel,
down a mountain…

down a stream…

I wish that was you
with the sponge in your hand,

saving the washed-away colour of me…

pulling me back from the rain.

I wish I knew you,
who you,
what you were…

and I wish you wanted me,

right here,
right now,
where nothing does…

where nothing exists outside the train

that’s never gonna call at my station again.

I wish you could see the little world I made,
here in a river,
weeping me free…

and I wish…

View original post 35 more words

30 thoughts on “Spongesong

    1. When I can barely stand
      for curling up,
      but the river is bursting through my shoes.

      When I can barely speak
      for wanting to hide,
      but the river is dancing through my eyes.

      Thank you.

      Liked by 2 people

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s