There is stillness in this chilly night
How peaceful is a planet that glimmers white
Where frost and moonlight weave a silver glaze
And sillhouetted trees are black as ink
Where the only sign of life are whiffs of breath
Let me stand and drink upon the sky,
Then rest my eyes upon the glory of the world
Upon these strange and unfamiliar hills
I sense a night's aurora soothe my soul
Winter has buried our world in alabaster white
Familiar landmarks wear a cloak of new disguise
Yet still the same are scattered thorny lights
Splattered wildly in the blackness of a sky
Winter has polished up the stars against the dark
Brilliant, new, until their points are thistle sharp
How peaceful is a planet so glimmering white
To stand in voiceless wonder and gaze
Do not speak, the crystal world would shatter
Too fragile to bear the weight of words
Look into my eyes
Follow me into a world of ecstasy
There and only there
Will you find the peace to unwind
Beautiful brown eyes not blue
Shady lids, stunning ocean view
Embracing every word
Hear the wind whispers your name
Come with me
Drown with me
Into the abyss of loving rain
Embrace this moment as I draw you in with words
Release you with the warmth -------I was there
I Share--I take
I LOVE--I HATE
Into my arms
I am the charm
Around your neck
Around your wrist
Listen to the voice from my beating heart
The freedom of touch
The freedom of speech.
Like the wind
I'll find my way
Into your heart
Arouse the cheerful energy
Of your insecurity and pen
Follow me into the sea
There we will fall into the deep
Build sand castles
Around dreams of reality
Slip into my aura light
Set to the rhythm of the oceanic night
Now, listen to the breeze
It's called out your name
It's only a matter of time----------------
You'll find yourself calling out...... mine
Dedicated to all my loving friends & fans :-)
Memories of the North Sea
sift in like sand kernels
on a fast, frigid tide -
events that transpired outside
the confines of rhyme,
instead, unfolding exactly
as they were meant to.
I had never before seen
so many shades of gray.
This monochromatic splendor
within an absence of sunshine
that was perfectly fitting,
instead of being bleak and bleary.
The smell of salt and seaweed
awoke deep within me
something dormant and eternal -
a surging desire to flush
from out of my blood
with an inverted force of pride.
Salty blood and water
coming together in a communion
of distant relations and movements.
A flash of bright red
digging in the sand beside me.
My child is wearing the only
vibrant colour to be seen for many kilometres.
The colour matches
her enthusiasm and energy,
as she moves from one spot to the next
like a dancing flame.
My own fire burns in my eyes.
I had unconsciously dressed
in the same colours of the sky and sea,
blending into the scenery
as a chameleon --
an illusion thicker than clouds,
an illusion of stone
for me to melt and reinvent
at the spinning speed of thought.
I look over at my daughter
who is wearing a wide smile of wonder,
for she has not ever seen the ocean before.
She can see the chameleon
walking alongside her in the frothy surf.
Together, we collect shiny stones and shells,
our pants rolled-up to the knee
as we wade through waves.
I wonder if people onshore
can only see a solitary dash of red out here,
or if the chameleon is more
noticeable than I had thought,
while we watch sea-birds
cover the steep cliffs
in a blanket of black and white feathers.
~(2012 North Sea Remix)~
Tossed upon blank beaches
like men without souls,
shell fragments littering the sand.
Each broken shell once could sing
lyrics lilting of glories past,
tales spun in Dresden colors,
soft, shimmering memories -
blissful days beneath shining seas.
In broken men who walk the earth,
vignettes I view . . .
shattered beauty every one.
August 3, 2014
Is that a word,
Or the foundation of all mountains of speeches?
Is love a whisper or an ejaculation?
A prayer, or a plea?
Why is it that love crescendos off the tongue
Like caramel in symphony?
Why does it melt me,
As if by heaven God made me an iceberg,
To later fall in the heat of destiny like my enemies?
Is it woman,
Is it the softness of your hand,
Or the coarse scratch against a rocky sand?
You say you love me so simply, genuinely
What is it my mind cannot comprehend,
As my eyes zoom in to your wanting lips,
The almost anticipated sound saintly slips
A fraction to my experience,
And a lifetime left of its dark and intimate peaks. . .
In these mountains of words,
How does one sleep?
How shall we rest willingly in the dangerous unknown,
With you and I alone?
I love you too..
How can I not when all of its footprints lead back to you?
Love is as simple as the word yearning on your mouth
As deep as the dark, undiscovered creatures of the sea
Though, most of all,
As far as I dare feel and see,
As simple as it sounds,
And God must well agree,
Love is you and me
Hand in hand
Sandy beach with beautiful sunset
What could be more romantic than
when the sun is glowing red and orange
melts into the sea somewhere
And two who are in love and goes hand in hand
A small box
On his knees in the wet sand beach
Will you be mine
She blushes as the sunset
Smiles her lovely smile
Yes, I would
The sun melts into the sea somewhere
But for a couple in love, the night is still young
A-L Andresen :)
("mix poem" )
I swam inside the Mediterranean Sea.
In what would be my Glory Days, off Valencia’s coast,
I dipped my foot in freezing water;
withdrew it; then dipped it in again.
(I’d always had my own will even then,
just didn’t realize how strong it was).
Disappointingly, my one day to enjoy the sea was cold.
I still cannot recall if others from my group
ventured out there with me and stayed for long
although I remember a few of them were shivering
riding on the bus to go back home.
Oh, it was so very long ago!
Nor can I recollect the suit I wore
(I do know I was plump then;
"Gordita” the men called out to me).
The season - was it early spring or still the winter?
And what specific color claimed the sea that day
along my beloved Iberia’s splendid shore?
Of that afternoon, I remember only this:
Aimlessly I let my body float first in one direction,
then another; keeping my eyes always on land,
my body numb, accustomed to the freeze.
No one was around me; I drifted, sometimes nearly straying. . .
just I - all alone -
letting my whole self go. . . for maybe 40 minutes.
It was something I felt that I just had to do
so that years later, standing here today
(“Gordita” frozen deep inside me)
I can say that I swam in that mighty, ancient sea.
How did a decent lady like me end up here, anyway?
The only girl aboard a ship of unsavory men.
The last thing I remember was sipping a glass of wine in a tavern.
Then, when I awoke, I was at sea,
on a vessel, and surrounded by pirates.
Shanghai'd, I think they call it.
For what purpose, I do not even want to think about.
However, I found that out rather quickly.
Then, I learned something else.
A sharp cutlass and a loaded pistol are a girl's best friend.
I am hardly the damsel in distress, for I can take care of myself.
There is one thing on board this ship
that I do not mind thinking about.
The captain, or so he calls himself.
My gaze often finds him, though his never finds me.
Only when he is giving me orders.
I have been entrusted with the helm of this vessel.
While he stares off into the waters of the Caribbean Sea.
Perhaps, planning our next heading.
The seas are strangely calm at the end of this day.
The sun is half way sunken below the horizon,
making the usual aqua-blue waters glow a golden-orange.
I stare into the dark eyes of my pirate captain,
they reflect the sunset, and shine like the gold of a doubloon.
His eyes are a lost treasure that I hope will find me.
I would trade all of the hidden treasures in the seven seas,
just for one look of those eyes.
Rubies, rare pearls, sapphires,
even gold cannot entice me more.
I leave the ship's wheel to make my way
down the wooden steps to the empty deck.
And, I ask him if he has our next route mapped out.
The captain leans against the ship's rails,
looking down as if contemplating.
He slowly turns his head,
and looks up at me with those enchanting eyes.
Then, he gives me that mischievous half-smile....
Silent in its violence, the sun
lays its ancient fire hand on the heat-scoured
concrete of the promenade,
the boxy seafront chalets tilting and creaking at angles,
the scorched, salt-stiffened gardens,
sand dunes, the screaming blue sea.
It is so difficult to accept a loss, a deprivation.
Innocence flaps its winding sheet behind me,
its mummy cloth of myth.
As from an isolated moon I see
the first cold breaker rush to engulf me:
an underwater undulance,
undercurrents of menace, of malice.
The sand-strewn strand stretches into infinity,
shimmering with the visions, the voices, the echoes,
the faceless departments of government and society.
I watch the insouciant people around me,
they possess a flatness, like blank paper.
They hump and lug plastic picnic paraphernalia,
ridiculously, all beach grime and blistered backs,
reduced to a red cindery glow.
Ice creams, scooped from the freezers
in trinkety seashore shops,
are clutched in sunburned hands.
They are spreading striped sunbathing mats,
snide and smiling slyly.
Is it a mirage, a delusion,
plucked from the desert-dry air?
The air snags in my throat: the flat summer stench
of warm wood, sun lotion, billowing cotton -
blank but expansive; the creaking, the flapping.
A strange wind howls and banters in my ear.
And the train shrieks through its station -
the station of my brain -
a riddled red abyss, poker-hot.
The sun is sinking:
a disc of fire, a blood clot.
Water floods the ridgy shallows,
eddying into treacherous pits.
The black gun muzzle of my mouth
flays the oxygen from the air.
My nerves a hive of wires suffering
the scarlet atrocities.
Pokers put out my eyes.
Squeezed by the forceps of agony
I see nothing, nothing
but a mirage of wavering dunes closing in
and the sea splintering; a multitude of glass glittering.
Rose-veined, you opened the heart vein in me
as I crested each white wave of grief.
Nipple-rosy, you suckled sadness like mother milk;
miraculous, whorled in warm salt waters -
small sea-curled shell, rocked by my body's waves.
When sea-voiced songs swirled into the pearled
shell of your ear did you hear
my breeze blown words, wave-whispered?
Small, balled conch of cute, ocean floating
but clam-clamped to the placental shore,
tethered by a soft seaweed sway.
Little love limpet, lodged forever
beneath my heart's carapace -
a memory mollusc
clinging to my dry driftwood days.
for 'Leaf, Feather, Shell or Flake' contest
Cocooned in orange plush, obscenely safe,
in false cinematic twilight,
light leaping out of nowhere,
dizzying the frozen yet titillated onlooker.
The popcorn-crunching crowd have eaten myth.
your seaweed ropes -
drowned umbilicals -
attach you to the seabed's vast placenta.
Your rusticles drape you like a sleeping shroud.
The knife-edge of your bow; the knife plunged into mud.
A spherical light fixture sprouts a sea pen,
snaky-fingered: a poignant Medusa.
A high-button shoe rests close by.
White ocean crockery, ghost porcelain -
appurtenances of a sunken pelagian people.
Your silt bed, more than two miles below,
private even now,
refuses to yield its virgin treasure still.
A valedictory message, torn from a pocket calendar,
forced into a cold clasping hand -
a desperate flutter of paper.
Strobe, a marine rapist, raking the ocean floor;
invasion of the depths below.
Your one-way virgin voyage, inescapable.
The night was a still pool of indigo.
The berg glided silently by,
lethal as a shark's fin, with terrible finality.
The pinprick stars - flowers of light -
averted their eyes respectfully.
The crunch of snow under trudging feet
A breath of white, a darkened sky
Eyes near closed from sting of cold
She dreams of summer days
With each small step, that leaves it's mark
Upon the white
In dreamy state, where daydreams play
From cold, away from chill, from ice upon the hills..
Her thoughts, they bide, for summer days,
and dreams that take the cold away
She finds herself so far away, a place
Where weeping willows brush her face
Bending 'neath the branches low
While walking on a garden's path
Grass gently sways, green as glass
So timid blows the warming breeze,
It fetches shining hair with ease
The wisps of gold which fly astray,
Like meadow flowers, in yellow maize
A melody of larks that sing
An amber sun, a basking glow, that ambles by
To warm a face so pale from winter's sunless sky
Until once more the breath of chill upon a cheek
And snowflake on her lash
Startles cold, like morning ash, returning eyes to winter's cry
A cold north wind that catches scarf
A thief that snatches warmth away, and thus her dream
And now awake, she sighs, ...to find it still,... the winter day
Yet distantly, there lies in wait, a springtime place, a promised fate
A path beneath the willow tree, where sun peeks through the velvet haze
Where flowers bloom and meadows grow, and larks sing lovely lullabies
The earth will wake, new walks to take.. and be, not a dream...
But a day to praise
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Submitted for Constance's "A Walk to Remember" contest....
...like two pieces of wood,
adrift and worn through time,
passing like ships in the night,
each on a different path
but destined to meet,
somewhere in time.
...like the sky, wet kissing the ocean
with winded breath, lusting
over the crest's of calmer seas
as it fills itself with the moon
in the high-tide romance
of un-chartered depths,
awaiting to connect the stars
fill the void's of night,
and awake, refreshed
to the rise of the sun's blush
together in destiny.
Many distant sea shores
Watch me silently
As I am drifting through the sea
There is no fear of drowning
Uncertainty shakes me though
To find the shore of happiness
That's the thought I hold
When this journey ends?
The wait feels in vain
Drowning is the easiest way
Probably to eternal peace
Pain won't exist and me neither
Drifting through the sea
My body gets sore
And I travel from one Poem to another
Without reaching the sea shore
Thoughts of Two Dimensions
Yesterday, I loved your courtyards
bathed in moonlight's shadows and smiles,
smitten by wavering stars,
lanterns of my youth,
that are reflected as coins,
in the quiet waters of your fountains.
Those are my reminiscences
arabesque creatures of an old chest,
sanctified by the lavender,
and left on the bottom of my wardrobe.
Today, I love your crowded streets,
pebbled alleyways that breathe
with aromas of kitchens,
shouts of children quarreling,
and nagging of older women
behind those awnings and windows of life well known.
Tomorrow, I will love your hot paved squares
that open to the harbors and promising high seas
while cypresses will send regards to far away winds,
and seagulls will sing nostalgia cries
of wandering merchants and sailors.
NOTE: I have placed this Poem as a Video Poem also on
[ This Poem is dedicated to Freedom of Expression
and Tibetan Dharma Guru Shri Dalai Lama to support
his struggle for the cause of Freedom of Expression ]
Take me away but I promise to sing a Song
Take me away from such a place,
Where feelings and emotions,
cannot be freely expressed.
Where new thoughts and ideas are crushed,
By the rod of power and corrupts.
Where mind do not get the opportunity to reveal,
its vast sea of beauty and varying colors.
Where love never flies freely in the sky,
while touching the unexplored lofty heights, and
wings of Poetry are nipped in the buds,
before they bloom and spread their smiles.
Where wind do not flow,
while touching the flowers and buds,
Where the butterflies do not have the freedom,
to show their varying moods and colors.
Where faiths have lost their grandeurs and glow, and
shrines are converted into suffocating barracks.
Where love has lost its magic of moving a heart,
to sing a song and dance on the call of its soul,
Where a vast sea of humans live,
without the freedom of expression.
Take me away from such a land and place,
Where people live in chains under iron curtains.
I promise I will come back to this land one day,
when the breeze will flow freely touching every heart,
When its people will have the freedom to fly on their wings,
I promise I will come back, to such a place one day,
When animals too would move without fear in their hearts, and
birds would be free to fly anywhere in the sky.
When the morning dew would greet the new rising Sun,
By glittering without fear, its silver and golden beams,
When flowers and buds would freely spread,
their alluring wings and fragrance in the air.
When the human mind would be free to explore and express,
its ideas and colors on the canvas of paper.
I promise I will come to such a land one day,
to Sing the song of joy and mirth.
Kanpur India 27th Aug. 2011
Cold and dark, the eyes of the depths
glaring at the stars above.
Few dare descend the steps
which reach down to oblivion’s cove.
Heavy, the desire for truth,
like the chains dragging my body further down
unto fate unknown.
Beyond recompense, lies the ruin
sunken to forbidden ground,
now home only to the strangest of creations
and catacomb to the drowned slaves of history.
Will all memories be as this one day?
Ghosts that haunt the corpses of humanity’s ambition?
Black are the bells that once chimed to announce omen.
Buried are the thoughts that walked my mind.
Broken are the tables where ideas once feasted.
Bound are the hopes, eaten by preying sharks of doubt.
Weighing down, the garments choke the breath of life.
There, where insanity was sane, beneath facade’s streams
lies truth, in the sea of forgotten dreams.
Don't let life pass you by,
Waiting for a better day, a better chance.
Believe in the Good in people,
Never walk in anyone's shadow,
Let the light guide you,
Feel the spirit of the universe
In the golden power of the sunlight,
As it gently caresses you face.
Open your eyes to the beauty around you,
Take your strengh from nature,
It is there for the taking.
It will fill you with power
To share with the ones that need it.
Look for the beauty you posess inside,
This is the Life you waited for.
Trust Life- and you could not wish
Cornering me in the bedroom's corner, you say it doesn't matter
if the lunar clock is striking twenty eight;
we can set ourselves adrift, unpick the anchorage,
the tide turning for our pleasure.
The slide inside smoother, slicker, tonight;
oddly intimate, skin-to-skin, coral depths pulling you in.
The red wave gathers, breaks, slowly spills and seeps,
creeps down my leg; neither of us cares.
We're lost in lunar loving beneath a bloodstained moon.
Our bodies cling and cleave, braced against the heave
of the current, wave upon wave of carnal carmine;
plunging deeper into the red sea,
your urging surging through me,
pulsing forward with the flood of my blood,
wet, now, with the cochineal essence of me.
Scarlet secrets of the sea cave within;
each warm gush brings a fresh flush of lust,
as the red anemone of my womb
tenses to release rivulets of rubies
and my muscles contract redly around you,
swelling to hold you with a hotter grip.
We're maroon-mottled, musky with lust,
as the crimson current churns and swirls around us.
And we're surrendering to it, going with the flow,
our skin streaked with scarlet tidemarks,
slippery with passion's puce pattern,
as the sea sweeps a new sensuality ashore.
You're dizzy-drunk on my body's heady claret,
sweat-silvered and ruby-jewelled, as you slowly withdraw,
leaving a smattering of glistening garnets on the bedroom floor.
A silver path shimmers
Across the sea and leads
To you lovely Luna lady,
Clustered by Cumulus clouds
And embraced by an indigo sky,
From your glowing eye.
Lovers wrapped in moonbeams
Reflected by the sandy shore
Share kisses in silhouette shadows
In the magic of your rising,
In the soft music of the waves,
In the beating of passionate hearts.
© 2014 Connie Marcum Wong
My fingers grasp at the void, empty-handed...
My heart lingers at hollowness, emptied out...
reminiscent when time got wrinkled, worn
when night and day left,
and only nothing remained.
The embers of my burning words
wither into the palest of ashes,
it makes me think of dead skin cells—
they are nothing but dust
sloughed off, then piled up into dusty corners, forgotten.
Minuteness discarded, a lover’s crumbling skeleton.
A noise barrage invades my soul’s silence,
an onslaught of thought and reason—
A wailing, pounding, desert squall that drowns me,
shattering the dam of tranquility.
I plunge back into this abyss of loneliness.
Of course nobody’s there.
They have all been long gone.
And here I am, with only this vast void as my company.
It whispers, it screams
and echoes into my mind,
what they’ve all been saying all along,
that I brought this upon myself.
Maybe I did. Of course I did.
Of course I did. Maybe I did.
Back and forth, back forth it goes...
I seek sanctuary in dreams,
for it is only there that my sea of loneliness
becomes a sea of ecstatic happiness...
I seek sanctuary in dreams,
for it is only there that I am welcome.
Touch me Not! Noli me tangere.
Wake me not...
Silence has blocked your ears.
The shattering of my heart was unperceived,
so I am left alone to take extreme care of these countless shards.
I can’t afford to hurt anymore, as I have done to the others.
With my words. With my long-winding, droning and ever-boring words.
The death-inducing kind of boring.
And only nothing cared to remain.
I am left with no choice but to be one with this nothingness,
flow along its waves, imbibe it and become it. Nix.
Let me evaporate, let me join that cycle of seeming nothingness.
That nothing, that stark quiet before the storm.
Breathe deep into that void.
Hear nothing. See nothing. Say nothing.
Can you feel me now?
As nothing touches you.
*** This was inspired from Catie’s “Nothing Remains”. In choosing this, in no
way am I saying that her poem needs improvement. It is brilliant as it is. I chose this poem of hers because it moved me and spoke to me. Thank you, Catie.
My prints are visible for now as I press the soaked sand
Breathing in the cured sea air
I hear the silent roar of its mighty movement
Disobedient curves imbuing in an aquamarine blue
Rhythmic grains of tamed shells
So violently arranged in a thing of beauty along the beaten shore
One should feel powerless against its perimeter
As the constant ascension changes the beach slowly over time
So to do I feel an ever so mellow shift of mind
The sea is an ever so predictable place
With an unpredictable aim
Every bit true for life
FROZEN SOUVENIRS (( Collaboration * Nette OnClaud ))
by~ NETTE ONLAUD
frozen with pain she woke to find daybreak
slumped on her crumpled bed again, laid back, cast
aside from god knows what, an unbecoming haven.
at least, this time, this bed was hers and hers alone,
dimly broiled by smells of yesterday gone
stale, drooping limbs to vaguely unbecoming souvenirs.
no longer wrestling fires but lighting them,
hope drained from flesh that craved for expired lotion
crush-boned dreams mocked her unbecoming senses.
she backed off tears that asked how this all happened,
plunging into her heart’s junkyard searching for answers
from wounds buried in near burial of an unbecoming night…
by~ POET D.
Gently she is weaving in and out of her own bed near the sea ledge,
faith will be drawn in the sand near the watery shores
broken down heartsick sea walls of loneliness will triumph
yet another frozen sad mood, a shadow that feels like it will last forever,
only to rest upon her own will of over flown solitude lids
her eyes are still like fireflies throughout the ebony in the dark night sky
The lengthy halls carry echoes in which silence the memorized souvenirs
dusk announcing the end of another frozen day;
there she sits in an incubator waiting to hear her name in the wind
A deeper, more intense treasure she found in her own reflections
with an open mind she is in mourn in hopes that these feelings don't last long —
a few hours or maybe a day or two she will bliss it all away
A Collaboration with *NETTE ONCLAUD
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
The Daffodil, peeks at the yellow rays of the Morning Sun
She raises her head :through the withering snow mound : with Dazzling Beauty
The Daffodil , Sings in harmony; Arise for I am : the Spring
The Golden weed, the Dandelion , reflects the yellow Halo Floating in the Sky
Knowing Life is short ,the Dandelion dots the Summer landscape
With Her Halo turning White, She calls the Wind and flies through the rays of the Sun
Goldenrod waits until summer is nigh o’er before waving elegantly
To the Yellow orb, warming her roots, She melodiously Sings Forever be Your Glory
The Goldenrod , humbly Hums Hymns : to the very Eye of a Loving GOD
Yellow Roses speak of the Memories : “watching the grass “Sportsman’s WAVE””
She sees the Glory of Nature : more Beautiful with each Magnificent : Sunrise
Yellow Roses, petals so Silky Soft, holding in “ Remembrance “ a long Lost “ LOVE “
The “ AquaRose “ that Grows, in the deep Caribbean Sea “4 miles North of Aruba”
Screams For the Sun, from her watery Grave, Yet she shines in a sea of “ Sapphire
" Blue "
The Depth of the “Blue sea, the Blue Sky above” Shadow the glow of Sweet
" Sunshine "
Inspired by the Contest : " Flowers " : Sponsored by Francine Roberts
Dedicated To my LOVES : " Barbara Jean " & " Lenore Ellen "
Author's Note : I Hope this is Read the way it was Written
YOUR Liege ALWAYS, LOVE : HGarvey Daniel Esquire
7th Place win
Zwischen dem Morgen und der Nacht
fallen die Sterne in den Pazifischen Ozean.
Die ewige Sonne lässt die Wellen erklingen,
mit dem weichen Schaum leichten Schnees.
Die See singt Lieder des Vergessens,
von versunkenen Bäumen,
von leuchtenden Stränden,
von der Liebe.
Ich bin wie der Wind,
der den frischen und vollen Morgen berührt.
Der Ozean kennt viele Lieder.
Ich will keine verwundeten Wolken im Morgen zurücklassen,
um die Erinnerung nicht zu trüben.
Der Pazifische Ozean hat die Farbe von Azulejos,
den blauen Kacheln eines alten portugiesischen Hauses.
Die Wellen tragen meine Träume,
unvergessen, der Vergangenheit.
Die Möwen bringen mir die Zukunft,
mit frischer, ruhiger Stimme.
In stillen Nächten ertönt die Musik des Meeres,
dann stehen die Sterne auf, um erneut zu scheinen.
Between morning and night
the stars fall into the Pacific Ocean.
The everlasting sun lets the waves sound,
with the soft foam of light snow.
The sea sings songs of oblivion,
of submerged trees,
of luminous beaches,
of the love.
I am like the wind,
which touches the fresh and full morning.
The ocean knows many songs.
I do not want to leave behind wounded clouds in the morning,
not to cloud the memories.
The Pacific Ocean has the color of Azulejos,
the blue tiles of an old Portuguese house.
The waves carry my dreams,
unforgotten, of the past.
Sea gulls will bring me the future,
with a fresh, and quiet voice.
In silent nights the music of the sea resounds,
then stars arise to shine anew.
Entre la mañana y la noche
las estrellas caen hacia el Océano Pacífico.
El sol eterna hace sonor las ondas,
con la suave espuma de ligera nieve.
El mar canta canciones de olvida,
de árboles sumergidos,
de playas luminosas,
del amor .
Yo soy como el viento,
que toca la fresca y llena mañana.
El océano tiene muchas canciones.
Yo no quiero dejar nubes heridos en la mañana
para no empañar la memoria.
El Océano Pacífico es el color de los azulejos,
esos azulejos de una antigua casa portuguesa.
Las olas llevan mis sueños,
inolvidadas, del pasado.
Las gaviotas me traen el futuro,
con voz fresca y calma.
En noches tranquilas suena la música del mar,
y luego las estrellas se levantan para brillar de nuevo.
The moon was a pearl -
a large white brilliant pearl of a moon
precious like the one I adored
as it shone down on us from the sky.
The sky was a sea -
a broad expanse of midnight blue
as deep as the love we made deep in a night
swimming with shimmering myriads of stars.
And the stars were fish -
beautiful shimmering star-fish
as bright as the glow in his eyes -
those eyes that gazed into mine
deep into the night of the beautiful sky -
that broad expanse of midnight blue -
the sea into which we gazed so deeply in love
as the moon met our gaze -
the moon that shone down
on me and my love most precious -
Oh, night of the large, white brilliant moon -
For the Pearl Poetry Contest of Craig Cornish
Seething turbulent waters
Angry billowing waves
Ready to pound and crush
To pull under and punish
To churn and churn
And leave breathless
Gasping, fighting for breath
Angry...where once it was calm
Serene and deep
Oh, so deep
With treasures to be explored
With beauty to be seen
Felt and enjoyed
Now…..the storm is brewing
The waves cresting
Readying themselves to crash down
And exact revenge
For the sea is a force of nature
Not to be tampered with
It can mesmerize
It can allure and excite
Drench and envelope
With liquid euphoria
But it cannot be tamed
It WILL not be tamed
It will tame
Devour and spew out
If not understood
If not appreciated
If not held in awe and respect
It can threaten one's very existence
And if it chooses not to destroy
It is sure to leave the foolish hearted
LOST at SEA
YES, I will leave you
LOST in MY SEA
Of ANGRY PASSION
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Sifting warm sand
through my fingers,
shimmering fine grains
glitter my palm.
filled with life’s memories
of nut brown days
A soft silk breeze
with our dreams
when we danced to the stars.
My heart laced yours
listening to the sea
undulating waves of emotion
as we kissed
on the velvet strand.
I still hear
the rhythm of the ocean.
Waves tumbling in unison,
a sweeping sound
as we lay silently
listening to sand
shifting over stone
to the faint chiming
My first love
a sea salted embrace
on a breast of sand.
in the sand
in glitter on my hand.
She is the fish-maiden of the night,
a temptress that croons to the sky
wading on gills of fondled thoughts,
the bearer of one fine shipmate’s doom
coasting on forbidden passion and trance.
On waters’ edge before the stars pale,
her body swivels before an ensnared time
of charmed maneuver , a hesitant prowl;
till the gentle fondness weeps a lonely desire.
Laying her man on the crib of soft navel
an aching dusk breaks a mermaid's tune ;
his breath gasping against the shore
while she clings to a howling wind,
pleading for rescue into deep cave of moss.
Suzanne Delaney's Mermaids
Constantly she toils
in the darkness of the heaving sea
gathering treasures into her aprons deep;
twice a day she knocks, panting,
at the shoreline’s wide stretching door,
and scatters her abundant gifts
for vagabonds like me to reap.
October 24, 2014