Lost at Sea: A Poem by Mike Cole

There was a ship lost at sea

Its destination not meant to be.

So it sailed as waters grew dark

The wind began to howl, and so swam the sharks.

When the storm passed, the horizon was left blue

Lost in the Ocean, there was nothing left that it knew.

A flip of the coin: A poem by Mike Cole

He flipped a coin, wondering where it’d land.

Heads or tails he pondered, mulling the coin in his hand.

Would he flip again should the coin land wrong?

He had done this dance before, he had sung this song.

The coin glinted in the fading sun.

One last flip, before the day was done…

You Never Knew Me: A poem by Mike Cole

You never knew me, nor I you.

Two strangers, passing through.

The wind whispered as we walked,

No words uttered, no words talked.

So strangers we remained, only ever passing.

For in love, nothing is ever truly lasting.


A poem I’m sure many can find themselves acquainted with. Unrequited love. The brief, fleeting thought of acting on attraction, but letting a moment pass. It’s beautiful but ultimately tragic.

With this poem, I tried to capture an idea, a moment. It emphasizes what is unsaid and plays with the idea of saying more, without explicitly stating it.

The lines are coupled, following a simple AABB rhyme scheme. I like to weave tints of tragedy into love poems to make them more human and with the end of the poem, you get a sinking feeling. The flow is thrown slightly off rhythm and lacks much of the excitement of the earlier lines. It is abrupt and signifies that this is truly an end, not a beginning.

In The Meadow: A Haiku by Mike Cole

In the still meadow

A bird sat to sing a song

A tune unheard of.


It is national poetry month. A month of poetry starting with a Haiku. As part of the fun for this month, I thought I’d harken back to when I first started blogging and analyzed poems by famous poets, except this time, the poetry is written by me!

For Haiku’s, I typically start with a simple idea, an image I create in my head. The poetry itself is meant to tell a story since the word count and syllable count is so low. Rhyming becomes much more difficult, so typically I opt out of including it in the poem.

For this poem, it is meant to relax, a simple tale of a bird in a meadow. That is it. It is simply stating where the bird is, what it is doing, and the novelty of the experience. It has a hint that perhaps this is a remote part of the world, where man has rarely set foot or notes the beauty of the song itself.

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