Herban Poetry

Rock the Boat.

The pale brown boat

Floats lazily on the water

I’d like to reach over and

Dip my finger in the coolness.

But I can’t rock the boat.

I sit, with countless other passengers,

A part of a unit.

I row when I’m told, stop when I’m told

And above all else.

I never rock the boat.

Then one day, the sun is beating,

Depleting my resolve

The obvious solution

Sings calmly all around.

I rock the boat.

Not a lot—just a tilt,

As fingers rake water

But this instant relief

Is worth whatever comes.

‘Who rocked the boat?”

All eyes are on me

And my dripping wet hand.

It renders me different;

un-uniform, guilty.

“I rocked the boat.”

“Don’t rock the boat

You’re shaking up waves

That ripple, growing larger

Polluting with change

Stay calm and unified

If you wish to survive

That fall is fatal—

Don’t rock the boat.”

And for a while his words worked

I complied with his wishes

But inside I was holding desperately

To that cool embrace.

Rocktheboat.Rocktheboat.Rocktheboat.

Thoughts so consuming and moving

Infusions of passion

I try to explain it in words,

but in return receive four:

“Don’t. Rock. The. Boat.”

Another sun comes along,

Different but somehow the same,

I raise from my station of complacence

with no regret

Go, Rock the boat.

I inch to the edge and

Take in the hue; Utopia Blue

Then turn, try to talk,

An attempt to teach truth.

“Don’t rock the boat?

But does that ring true?

I’ve seen the waves

Behave in a manner contrary

I’ve felt the touch of destruction

While tasting cool peace

It’s allure has completely rocked me

Just like the boat

But I can not sit still in it’s beauty!

You fear the unknown and

zone in your outlook

I’d rather drown in this

Perfectly chaotic creation

Than float forever

In your sea of mediocrity.”

Did I float?

Did I swim?

It doesn’t matter.

I dived.