Islands

Uncategorized

_MG_5229

I hear them flock
To my wet sands;
In packs of many
Or disarrayed bands.
Some arrive waving wings to the wind’s roars,
Others come floating on the dancing oars.
I have heard from the tides, what it would be like;
To have life on my untouched terrain, taking a hike.
Every first light I hear a million singing their songs,
By every setting sun only a handful stay along.
The ones holding on are nothing but stray,
Finding their solace in my comforting hay.
Since the beginning of time islands like me have longed for love,
Sometimes to my shores, even empty boats are enough…

Deven A.

This blog consists of the detailed prose and poetic collections from the imprinted memories of the obsessive knack to live the hell out of life. I, Deven A. am a Filmmaker, Poet and Photographer who puts forth the data gathered by my sense organs and my mind, in whatever decorative manner of words I can thread together. Travelling is a way of living for me and the words published on this site are only fragments of the profound feelings felt, lessons learnt, and life lived on the road. The Bearded Highway-Man aims to capture and present the true spirit of travel, poetry and life in its crudest and purest form…
Previous
Half
Next
Sapphire and Salt

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *