Washed-up Mind: two poems reflecting on mind separation

 Washed-up 1
That washed-up image of a girl I see,
I knew her once, or was it she knew me?
She touches her cheek as I touch mine,
mouths the words I speak; takes a while
to recognise now gazing back through unmoving eyes
proving my mind’s winding away as lathered foam
in deluged pools whorls ocean’s jetsam
in diminishing spools.
Washed-up 2
A young girl asks my name,
I tell her it’s the same it’s always been,
and who is she, she asks, and what’s the date;
I throw the questions back like runty fish -
I know a trick or two, I know the ropes,
I could end up by drowning here
sucked under with her questions;
my ebb moon-pulled between the high-tides of my mind,
a boat at anchor
slowly keeled on the lengthening shore.

Being creative is the mainstay of my life, and poetry, prose, and photography is where I express my deepest emotions. I also enjoy the challenge of design and create jewellery, fabric bags, and garments and home items in yarn. Diagnosed with ASD at the age of 68 after fifty years in and out of the mental health system, I now aim to explore and share my experiences over these years. Apart from blogs and short articles I'll share my life in my verse and images.

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