Fog settles on the tombstones. In the dark, an eerie blue,
the graveyard is a misty ocean Raven passes through.
She stops. The solitary site is grim, devoid of sound.
Her long black gown, a ruffled slip, is satin sweeping ground.
Her sable locks lie smooth and straight across her graceful back.
Stark contrast is her alabaster skin to hair pitch-black.
This woman - with a beauty that forever captivates -
now stands, a pistol in her hand, and there steadfastly waits.
Since told the man that she adores (who left some time ago)
lies buried here, the woman’s come, for Raven has to know!
She can’t believe that he could be here in this place of doom.
He’d left for war before they’d barely been a bride and groom.
As Raven looks out on the sea of mist, her eyes have teared
because those birds that bear her name have suddenly appeared.
A sign it has to be, she thinks. The ravens drawing near
are circling above one stone. Her heart is seized with fear.
Now Raven walks to where the birds are circling above.
She pales. . . The stone she’s reading bears the name of her true love.
The fog, a sea engulfing all, has swallowed Raven too.
Gun raised, she drops down to his grave; she knows what she must do.
First posted 1/15/2011
Now revised for the Contest of Giorgio A.V: Structured Forms -Iambic Verse:
Recite and Analyze a fictional event - 32 lines max. Top Gun poetry.
This is done with rhyming couplets using Iambic Heptameter
One summer day, enraptured by the Goddess Sea,
King Sun shone down with all his might; most splendidly
he moved the Goddess, for she rippled laughingly
a shimmering reply to Sun in azure sky,
and while reflecting that same hue where King Sun dwelt,
her turquoise ripples lengthened, for the goddess felt
herself now rising up with joy. Wave after wave
was leaping, frothing. . . as King Sun more strongly gave
his final rays to her. Then he descended low
that he might kiss the lovely Sea on earth below -
to kiss her soon before the last day’s shadows fell,
and so he touched her where she’d let her body swell.
With yellow gold, his final glow, he bathed her face,
but when the night arrived with sable colored lace
to drape the goddess, Sun had vanished from all sight;
below Sea’s depth he’d sunk - to love her through the night.
For Suz's "Let's Be Open" poetry contest and now for
PD's Anything Goes Contest
I dream of the past and days on the high seas
With no one to answer to and no one to please
Yearning for the freedom that I once knew
With the sails set and a sea of blue
Dream of the islands and her beautiful eyes
For the taste of her lips my heart still cries
Once a pirate who sailed with the wind
Now only memories that I rescind
I look at the past in the afterglow
Wondering where does an old pirate go
Time has carved deeply the lines on my face
Settling down feels so out of place
Longing to return to that tropical lagoon
Where I once held her beneath a Caribbean moon
Young brash and arrogant, I sailed away
Never said good bye, I still see her each day
My heart beats a tune that has me undone
Until the day I sail toward that tropical sun
Thinking back and missing her so
Wondering where does an old pirate go.
A ship is safe in the harbor,
But that's not what ships are built for.
Because in the sum of our human gleams,
We have created the vessel for our dreams.
Its purpose: to retrieve the alien shore,
To scout, seek, achieve and explore.
A ship is meant to fly and fly,
To seize the horizon and capture the sky.
And the few of us with the intrepidity,
To brave the virulent vortex velocity
We are the wealthiest of men ever to dream
And ever to combat a sea or a stream.
And the harbored ships that fritter away,
Slowly begin to rot and decay.
Never has there been a greater waste of a day,
Than that spent harbored,
Than those of us who stay.
Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope
My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans
Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure
Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir
Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile
Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame
The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees
(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace". I hope that it does not insult
I lay me on the grassy lawn
And watch the stars, they're floating on
While one comes out from round the eaves
Across the sky another leaves
The sky is slowly shifting round
So different stars are always found
The dipper turns just like a clock
Without a sound of tick or tock
It turns about that central star
That guides the sailors from afar
While with it sails Queen Cassie's throne
And all the constellations known
Tonight's a clear and peaceful night
The moon is gone, the stars are bright
I slowly drift to seas of dreams
Alights with pinprick starlit streams
I'm thinking all the charming while
With placid face and hinting smile
That when I wake in early morn
Some different stars will be reborn
The lake is a plate of evening blue
Here where mists of dew sprinkle the view
Under lilting skies the undulating sea
Stretches far beyond infinity
Silent and calm, no hint of green
Smooth as silk with translucent sheen
Rippling blue as far as fingers can see
Yet when the moon’s luminosity
Fondles the surface where the wavelets flow
Twinkling jewels are dew-pearls’ glow
To easels of moonbeams on a crystal sea
How incredibly beautiful this vignette can be...
For Brian Strand's Image Theme Contest/ 2 to 14 Lines
By nette onclaud
The sea churned heavy in the wake of rolling,ripping thunder.
As rain cascaded from the skies the vessel was pulled under.
The winds were shrieking as the sailors ran to clutch the sails.
Into the night could now be heard those far off deathly wails.
Another man went over every time the dark sea burned.
When suddenly there was a light just where the storm had turned.
Within the light is where these beautiful creatures now emerged.
Half woman and half fish they swam right where the waters surged.
The men were frightened yet enthralled by their amazing beauty.
As one by one they lost their heads forgotten was their duty.
The creatures wrapped the men within their long and tangled hair.
And slowly every sailor was drawn into their seaweed lair.
As the storm raged on the creatures took the men below
to their deep home within the tides and this much we do know.
The shipmates never were seen again-they called them lost at sea.
But the creatures say they took the men so they could set them free.
for contest "Fantasy"
Crisp Autumn seeps through the day
Dew balances a fresh cut blade
Tangerine skies seethe God's Grace
Summer's vehment blaze...replaced
Slipping sweetness around my pillow
Cool winds dance with weeping willow
Stars twinkle down through thick dense trees
As spirits dance in fresh Autumn's breeze
Sail most by south, by west the least,
until the moon sets in the east.
There, in a sea the hue of custard,
ye'll see the Ile de Deux Sans Mustard
where locals speak like buccaneers,
calling you ‘me dirrr' and us ‘me dirrrrs'.
Their pirate accent's quite inexorable
though, than ours, their grammar more is flexible.
They appear to verge on being mammalian
a little bit like South Australians
(I'd never in the name of mirth
deride the folks who come from Perth) .
Hard left, first manatee you see,
or right, your choice, you're free as me
(it's nix to do with politics,
a pox on all elected plicks) .
Sail till the sea turns sweetest violet
and there you'll spot the cutest islet
(had we to rhyme with ‘sweetest red',
it'd be a continent instead) .
Here, when poetry is long dismembered,
lies the place of rhyme remembered.
Yes, you have come upon a land
that any poet would think is grand.
Where almost everybody aint
any kind of ffffflamin' saint
but seldom use the worst of curses,
when they converse in freeish verses,
or communicate in playful rhymes,
pretty well whenever they feel like it.
The old Queen is losing her glorious crown
Her glittering diamond tiara is going down
In its prime, it shone golden, now yellowing
See the crimson ball, getting soft, mellowing.
Splashing colors in my sky, huge ball of paint
Once scorching, now calm and pensive as a saint!
As you release the long day deep in the blue sea
A vibrant, livid twilight canvas, create for us to see
Other side of this enchanting horizon, resting you may be
Giving us the shimmering night spread, peace for mine and me!
From his pocket
on the beach she knew so well,
In his eyes the moon
where had he been?
and not alone.........
on his skin an aura
from the sea....
scales of silver...
one two three.........
clutched there in his
the mermaid left him
on dry land.
Nature’s Single Dad’s
THE LEAFY SEA DRAGON
Gracefully swaying without need for speed
Are creatures of beauty, disguised as seaweed.
Up to twelve inches long from tail to snout
These delicate creatures just drift about.
They carry, as they move like galleons in sail,
Silk-like appendages, leafy and pale
On back spines, projecting as masts on a ship
Sailing the oceans, they rise and they dip,
To the rhythm of moon tides; full or neap,
They travel the seas; these Dragons of the Deep.
Through weed-covered reefs and meadows of sea grass
There’s neither a neigh nor a moo as they pass.
They resemble sea horses in flowing silk gowns
Drifting on rhythms, dancing up and then down.
They slow dance through the water just moving around
No fire, no flames from these dragons; not a sound.
The mother will lay two hundred eggs on Dad’s patch
Of soft sponge, where safely they’ll hatch.
The sun flashes golden as she drifts on by,
While in the shadow on his tail, his offspring lie.
This single Dad of the deep tends a new generation,
Of Leafy Sea Dragon eggs; a fascinating creation.
Less than one inch when first hatched from the eggs
As newly formed babies; ready for life without legs.
They drift as if they feed, gaining the silky covered bone
To a length of twelve inches by the time they’re full grown.
The cycles of the moon dictate the rhythms and motion
Of this Leafy Sea Dragon in the great Southern Ocean.
The Leafy Sea Dragon is just one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species.
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
Forth he went upon the sea
grizzled and tough as he could be.
But when the old salt came to shore
he'd look for Jenny Lynn some more.
She was lost from him for years;
he'd shed a bucket of bitter tears.
Dreaming of the day they'd meet
the old man had a heart so sweet.
Someday he would find his daughter.
Till then he'd spend life on the water.
for "Sweet and Salty" contest
Since the 19th century, she stands looking out to sea
A guardian of the sailor, a survivor of tragedy
The Captain lost his pregnant wife and son and five members of his crew
Now she waits just like her sister when a sailor's return is overdue
Her sister stands in Moss since nineteen sixty two
They stand and face each other across the ocean blue
The Dictator, a Norwegian vessel, aground she did run
Nine people died off the shore in eighteen ninety one
The Captain returned to Norway when his healing was done
In Elmwood cemetery he sadly left his wife and son
On thirty seventh street in Virginia Beach the Norwegian Lady Stands
A monument to all who sail and walk on foreign sands
His praises are upon my lips and shall forever be
what He has done for me some will never see.
The breath of life He breathed into me
made me His for all eternity.
Life He created and placed on Earth
some have dragged in the dirt.
The raging sea which gave other the cold chill
He commanded by stating, "Peace Be Still!"
the hungry gathering multitude
He fed with five fish and loaves with loving gratitude.
At the wedding of Canaan He turned water into wine
many drank and thought it was just fine.
He walked upon a deep sea with blue water
which some may have tried thereafter.
To the blind He gave their sight
they praised His name and made things right.
Many rushed to touch His garment
for their actions He rendered unto them an achievement.
Those who were lame and unable to walk
He touched and they stood up and talked.
His words were His bond and awakened many people
today His words are heard from buildings with steeples.
His love brought everlasting life unto many
one may even call it the light of an epiphany.
His grace saved the souls of many going astray
being saved by His grace they knelt down and started to pray.
His loving touch felt like a soothing and healing balm
many upon feeling His soft hand their hearts became calm.
He stood still and commanded, "Lazarus Come Forth!"
those who were present witnessed an awesome rebirth.
On the eyes of a blind man He rubbed clay
he received his sight and praised Him all day.
He was and still is the Savior and Miracle Worker
unto many souls He is forever their Caretaker!
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/8/09
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
The sirens and mermaids
called up from the deep,
untangled mesh nets
blithely held out by sleep.
There the first to emerge
were the sighs and the nods,
they sank then resurfaced
in clear Morphean pods.
I found myself wandering
on a wide stretch of beach.
My mind squeezed like a lemon,
my thoughts fuzzed like a peach.
When the sheet of fog lifted,
I walked through the haze,
what’d been transfixed by the night
now transformed into day.
Bands of green kelp
had encircled my feet.
Sand dollars tossed out
from the wallets of seas.
The tang in the air
by the water and brine,
awoke to my senses
other days hazed by time.
Sunk then in a sinkhole;
my heart now clanged a bell!
I was no longer an oyster
in a barnacled shell.
I kicked off the seaweed,
splashed through the shoreline,
feeling refreshingly freed
from that soul ravaged time.
I knew I’d still wonder
about Calamity Clam.
Had he hid from the onslaught,
become a sea star’s sea ham?
Ouf…no longer my problem,
I was no agent by rights.
Then I stepped on an object
and, out went the lights!
I hopped in frustration
with great hurt I did bow.
I bellowed out pain
like an angry sea cow.
With one mighty scoop
he was constained in my hand.
How to dispose of the despicable?
I felt seared by a brand.
Covertly I gazed
at this nemesis of fear.
Then I gave a smart tug
to his mossy green beard.
The thoughts that I harbored
were not of my decree.
I hurled him out, with three skips,
he sank back into the sea.
I am holding my hands over my eyes,
I want to listen to what sound resides.
I can hear the waves beating on the ground.
The slow rhythm of each wave as it pounds.
The squawk of a bird, I can hear far away.
Soft whispers, as the wind has something to say.
I settle back on the ground to listen.
On the warm ground I purr like a kitten.
The warmth I feel from the sun on my face.
Thoughts are roaming through time and through space.
I have a peace of mind it’s hard to explain.
Like the coolest water from a short summer rain.
My body settles down so softly in this land.
I’m lying upon a bed of petals in the sand.
- For Upon A Bed Of Petals contest
They pollute our waters, the land, the air
They pollute the planet without a care
They kill our friends from down below
As they swim up to say hello
They build weapons to kill each other
They don't respect each race or colour
They try to hunt us in every way
But they cannot find our hideaway
We'll never surface because we fear
We cannot trust the humans here
by Ana Espinola Collins
Water, water everywhere! What a spectacular view!
The Master's Hand steers our course as we sail the ocean blue!
Though the billowing waves may toss our man o' war about,
The Master Pilot will keep us safe, of that I have no doubt!
I like to think that the playful dolphins leaping about our bow,
Were trained by The Master Navigator to guide our course somehow!
We've sailed the ocean blue seven months visiting mysterious ports of call,
Savoring The Master Creator's handiwork from Trinidad to Senegal!
Our rigging has been rent in battle midst furious shot and shell,
But our Master Captain's leadership has led us through so very well!
When standing midnight watch on moonlit nights upon the ocean blue,
I'm comforted knowing that The Master Guardian is watching over you!
My supplication to The Master of the Cosmos who directs all from above,
Is that one joyful day I'll hold you in my arms forever more, my love!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 1 in Francine Roberts' "Blue on blue on blue" Contest - Jul 2011
Holding hands, into our eyes we stare
As we turn to the bleak that awaits us there
Deafening creaks like thunderous roars
Her arching back in ripping soar
Screaming explosions as the waters seep
Tears of many as life ends their keep
Below the cobalt in a coldly drift
Sinking debris in continual shift
Our hands still held amidst disappearing lights
We no longer focus as we enter our blight
Below we drifted, two souls soon to be gone
How many of us end up where we don't belong
GUSHING IN WONDER
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ In morning’s pastoral turquoise bliss
The isle lies warm in sunset's kiss,
On autumn’s gurgle when the sun is low
When meadow flowers seem to glow
Afloat in a sea of cerulean haze,
Setting the cascades for October days
The air is breezy with scent of flowers
Their fragrance pervading wavelets’ hours,
When tides swish with mermaid’s choir
And tulips flaunt their seashore attire
Then sailing in wonder of dew-swept hairs,
Larks ascend into floating prayers in pairs
Sweet scent of waters fills the buoyant air
Serenity ripples on tipping toes everywhere,
Dizzy where heather and blooms unfurl
As gulls twirl where fair blue waves curl
It seems that time stands still a while
For salty perfume now the senses beguile ~
Contest: Francine Roberts’ Flowing Water
Written by: nette onclaud
19 Sept 2011
As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.
And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.
Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.
Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray
© N A Windle 2009
This journey of which you now read, happens to many of us
It's what happened to me, my thoughts through the waves in discuss
It was on a normal day, I was fishing on craggy rocks
When out of the blue it came, this wave and me became locked
Salted eyes and gasping for air, hazed glimpses of where I once stood
My thoughts in flickering capture, the youngest of our family brood
The last catch of land I see, as I'm trawled so far into this blue
My heart emitting signals from their youngest, I, their loving true
Deeper and deeper I'm swallowed, marine life simply abounds
For marvels they definitely are, just like those marvels on common ground
Nearly ten minutes has passed, yet I'm as alert as I would normally be
My eyes now appear to be customised, as I view what's all around me
Dolphins play chasing Tuna, Hammerheads patrol like guards
Species like the Mola Mola, so wonderful, their definitely stars
Momentarily I glimpse through the light, as it diminishes into cobalt blues
The sights that I start to see, are species in identity confuse
Upon a fallen whale, it's carcass in steadily clean
Are hundreds of half meter Hag Fish, of them I wouldn't like to dream
Suddenly a movement catches my eye, a Sixgill Shark swims close to me
Strangely I don't feel nervous at all, beside this marvel of the seas
This flowing through these cobalt blues, is like a feeling I've never known
Was there a desire on this day, for the wave to take me, now shown
This journey of which you now read, happens to many of us
On a beach many hours later I awoke, around the schools I now discuss
When ever you are close to the waters, whether oceans, lakes or seas
Me, well I have no answers, be careful and you won't be me
is never much amusement
for ships at sea
it’s great to see
the ship and crew will get some strength
and be able to go the length
unreps I have worked
unreps are a must
for a sailor’s trust
keeps the navy afloat
much more than a tug boat
The sea holds the sauce of life,
the squiggly-wiggleys of delight.
The shells on shore inspire insight
cooks in kitchens steam on summer nights.
Filling pasta pots with rotini,
pan searing bits of pink squids teeni.
Drizzling pink vodka sauce between the swirls
juggling meatballs for little girls!
So, mimic the sea on my saucy plate
“Pass the rotini! I’ve not ate!”
“See how it looks like a Hasid’s curls?”
Just the macaroni for a Jewish girl!
* A tribute to Linda-Maria's verse Stuffed Shells...
Undersea exploration comes to me in my dreams
As a fish in the deep I see only faint sunbeams
Enough light there is to reveal a lost continent
I wonder what led to this golden age’s descent
Colorful fish swim among ruins of a pyramid
A former city’s gilded streets, giant squid now float amid
Huge, submerged statues of gods suddenly catch my eye
Just as a fish-tailed, sweet mermaid happens to swim by
Stroking through the water as sea plants flourish below
Unquenchable curiosity continues to grow
Is this Atlantis? Am I on the Bimini Road?
Buildings here have cryptic writings I cannot decode
Schools of many other fish are surrounding me now
Are they wondering too? Or just seeking plankton chow?
When I awake in my bed, the sheets are soaking wet
And my body is writhing in a chilling night sweat
The sights I had seen provoked deep-founded fears
The North Pole is said to shift every ten thousand years
That time is approaching; may I return to the sea?
Let me dwell in the ocean as landlubbers flee
The earth rises and sinks on a regular basis
Only in the ocean will I find my oasis
*For Gautami’s “In the Deep Sea” contest
MAP OF EUROPE - OBJECTUM SEXUAL *
O coastline with cool expanse of blue Atlantic
Your curves and indentations drive me frantic.
Sometimes thrust out peninsularly;
Sometimes studied docilely and scholarly;
Land stretching from White sea and Iberia
To Black Sea and Siberia.
O Europe, my virgin obsession geographical
Is verging on possession sexual.
Other continents are jealous - Africa is so island-poor, so peninsula-penniless,
And of rivers, capes and bays it has many less:
It would give a pretty penny to have just one Iberia, Jutland, or Scandinavia
To excite its smooth coast and other geographic behavior.
Australians would love islands with romantic names Capri Lesbos Rum Eig Frisian
Or an archipelago-infested sea like the Aegean.
South Americans cry themselves to sleep at night because they lack
Such Nordic coastal features as Trondheim or Skaggerak
Beijing would give all the tea in China because she must
Satisfy her desire for an Italian-shaped peninsula, a bootless lust.
Of course Asia feels no envy, for it has kukri-shaped Kamchatka
And the only large island in the world, Sumatra,
Which rhymes with the best singer in the world, Sinatra.
This Map of Europe is something I just have to possess.
My life is incomplete without its caress.
If I didn’t have it, my world would be a mess.
1 * “Objectum Sexual” is defined on GOOGLE as erotic
love towards an object of any sort.
2 N. B. This poem is purely fiction
Legends abound from society to society
But Norwegians have one that evokes great anxiety
A mythical sea monster of immense proportions
May be fifty-feet long, or its size has some distortions
With enormous tentacles it’s said to have grabbed sailors
Squeezing and consuming the bodies of Nordic whalers
Is the Kraken truly a product of Norwegian lore?
Perhaps its targeted vessels fell to the ocean floor
“Fish tales” are popular in many seas throughout the world
But the Kraken is a squid and many ships it has hurled
Since the concept originated in Norwegian tales
Giant squid sightings are reported wherever man sails
The Kraken is surely a most intriguing sailors’ yarn
But Norwegians take heed of the tall tales that warn
For none wish to test the near-impossible validity
Of a Nordic legend ripe with vivid morbidity
*Written July 18, 2014 for Anne-Lise’s contest
(I will not be able to respond to comments at this time)