katesmash

This one is the last poem of the three. This I had to write by hand. I had to type it for you guys, but... yeah.

A tiny violent noise is a yellow happy thing.
Yellow like the sun and just as violent.
Violent in its rays and yellow in its brightness.
The sun.
The dawning of new life.
Regenerator of society
A flame flickers in the distance
And exquisite from of art
The wind make it
Blowing side to side violently like a ship being tossed about on the ocean's waves
Calm seas
Sea gulls
Sun rise and set
The smell of salt
The moist breeze
Glup glup glup as the waves roll into the side of the stern
The sound crashing, deafening
Methodical, constant, beautiful, and maddening are the sounds of a quiet, happy sea
Under the cover of that tiny violent noise

The sea is the harbor
The mother of myths and tragedies
She is a woman
A woman with a temperament
A woman during her cycle, her belly to the soft glow of the moon
Rejected moon
Not violent
Not happy
Not yellow
But somber and sweet as it sings
The sea and the moon
Frequent lovers as the sea wants nothing to do with the suns harsh ways
His arrogance
His pride
His violence
Do not pick the sun
The sun like all others that have come before him
Obnoxious and stubborn
The moon is a better suitor
The moon, the moon, this moon
Its half, full and joking smile