I water my garden
I tend to Wander and Lust
And between Wild and Sweet is no place to be
The rush of the wind over the river dry cuts
Through the garden mine
And compels the dust to whisper
Whisper, I know you,
Little Noise White
It whittles my garden
Down to the snow-white bones
And lies, like every flake of snow in my garden
Unique and terrible each
Unique little white lies
Over my garden
One after another unlike the others
Ill-fitting coats in the high, high heat
Ill-fitting the other
One after another
Fallen to the ground too late for roots
The hard-won shoots shoot
They shoot the sky
They cast little shadows behind
My garden, I
The wind blows
And the seeds are carried away
They grow in fields strange
Where others tend to the wolves and I
Like the black sheep stray
Drawn by the clouds,
The hard-won shoots shoot
They shoot the sky
And cast little shadows behind
Little stormcrow leave
Your place is no place to be
My garden, I
Water every day
The water is rising
And the seeds are floating away
They drown in rivers strange
Where others swim in the water and I
In the deep end laid
The end of the line
Shoots the sky and falls
Too late for roots
My garden, I
Grow every day
The sky is falling
And the shoots are tumbling away
They die in meadows strange
Where the grass grows inside and I
Like the black widow play
Too late for roots I shoot the sky
And I cry
- A. H. Sewell ©2015
You can pick up a copy of my eBook "City Sticks - A Collection of 50 Poems" from Smashwords at the link listed below. Come stop by my blog or friend/follow me on Facebook, too! (Links listed below.)
Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
To escape sin, I built a glass box around me.
Though sin like water started leaking through the cracks upon me.
Soon the water would consume me.
Forced hand prints scattered inside the glass by me.
Trying to break free of what I built around me.
No one is near to see or help me.
No one to call, to assist or guide me.
Tears accreting to the water wasn't helping me.
The water is slowly getting deeper around me.
The strength is fading away within me.
Please, someone save me!
Oh God, please forgive me!
Thinking I had all the answers to build this glass box around me.
Sin, yet and still captured me.
I need you now Lord please strengthen me.
Eyes closed beneath the water crying out for him to save me.
His voice appears, "Come as you are to me.
You made a decision to consult with yourself without me.
For I am the only way the truth and the light; not you but me.
All the tools you need are provided by me.
I will bring down this glass box only for your life to be with me.
For I make no mistakes because I am me.
I will send you back to be a living witness for me and only me."
Hydrogen to Helium
A fusion formed by gravity
A carbon-based delirium
Molecularly infinite energy
An ancient discipline known as alchemy
We’re consciousness - the explosion - amorous
We dream of gold from lead and mercury
Fueled reaction in copper with phosphorus
A universal age of prosperity
Bismuth bath. Deficient of iron and zinc
Astronautic laugh – last shine of hope
Nuclear decay –enlightened way – elemental - instinct
Scientific – logical clay – gaseous isotope.
The fluoride, we drink?
Humanity on the pivotal brink
The edge, a precipice.
Lanthanides and actinides
Metals and mysteries.
Shrink down to atomic scale
Our intellect – an accelerated history
A holographic projection
A gravitational trajectory
Precious pavonine pearl
Our planet, our world.
A place all our elements may inhabit
Terrestrially unique. Diverse and intelligent
The push of inertia
The pull of gravity
The spin of an atom
The spin of our galaxy.
(written for the periodic table of elements poetry contest) 12-12-14
I could smell and sense
the showers coming in the air
with an approaching storm.
I inhale this
light little scent of heaven.
The rain will never dampen my spirits.
No umbrella for me tonight.
But, I don't mind,
I'll walk in the rain.
I savor this
sweet little taste of heaven.
The flavor is cool and refreshing,
with a purity
that is almost indescribable.
It is cleansing to my soul,
I can feel it
washing away my cares,
and making it okay to smile, again.
I experience this
gentle little caress of heaven.
When it soaks through
my jacket and my jeans.
My shoes splash
in the rain
with every step that I take.
I can hear it
tap dancing on the rooftops,
with invisible feet.
reflect on the wet pavement,
in pools of gold and silver.
The neon signs blink,
red and yellow,
blue and green.
Like drips of paint,
it puddles on the street.
to where there was none before,
only a flood of gray.
Now there is a palette
of fragrances to absorb.
Creating almost a rainbow
in the nighttime.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
November 11th, 2013
For Nette Onclaud's contest - "Fragrance Of Rain"
curiously peering over a cloud
Angelica stepped a bit too far
wings fluttered and disappeared
stolen by jealous demons below
angel flying too close to the ground
leaving the harmony of heaven
sensing a need to save a ravaged planet
landing gracefully on soft soil
Angelica hears the bulldozers
weapons of environmental destruction
sauntering through Earth’s rainforests
curiosity beckons as water reflects her image
her lost wings still reflect in the pond
seen as ripples from her pink, silk gown
orchid floral tiara crowns her long auburn hair
even water lilies envy her beauty
captivated by this pool lit with filtered sun
immersed in an image of herself
in God’s light all angels appear the same
bright beams to welcome new souls
fly again she will
bubbles of hope spring forth
Earthbound for but a brief time
cherished cherub sent as nature’s guardian
halo of comfort surrounds
Angelica leans forth to feel the coolness
sparkling water caresses warm lips
her kiss renews Earth’s freshness
other angels transparent in sunlight
bestow a new set of wings
mission accomplished, they escort her home
once again she revels in heaven’s light
For the “Reflection” contest, sponsored by Constance La France ~ a Rambling Poet ~
By Carolyn Devonshire
I walk on water. . .
I feel the coolness of the
Rolling waves splash
Beneath my feet.
I watch the sun sprinkle
Diamonds across the sea.
I float above the clouds
And feel the radiant warmth
Of the sun bless my body.
I feel the power of the wind
Caress or twist and break
Anything into submission.
I rise above the towering Alps—
Snow capped and pristine.
I enjoy a fragile flower sharing
The faint scent of heaven.
I know the Sequoias, ever growing.
I blend with verdant pastures and
Serene rolling hills in misty rain.
I know the secrets of the
Deep dark abyss.
I sense the moon’s tenderness
And share in her emotions.
I flow with the clever rivers
Seeking new exciting paths.
I form a rainbow in waterfalls.
I am free to be the wind, the earth,
The sea, when all you see is me.
© 2010 Connie Marcum Wong
I am only inferring I am one with nature in this poem.
Place my mind into a boat
doused with kerosene.
Create a lantern on the water:
light the boat a-flame
and push it out to sea.
Then my heart will be more free.
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Enchantments cursed beast of purity’s beauty
Trapped within the foam and spray, touching
Almost the land then in sorrow’s undertow
Driven back is this mystical herd of wild
Poseidon’s sacred water horses, surfing
Within the frothy s riptide of mermaid tears,
Clashing their silvery horse shoes, against the
Rocky edges of the under currents tidal surge
These titans of the fathoms deepest depths.
Lightening immortals shimmering, bathing
Translucent beneath the hued blue waves,
The last unicorns beg for release, to run
Freedom trails once more, to feel the
Mountains breezes of liberation flowing
Through their milk white manes again.
But silence is the reply from their capturer,
Unmoved is his trident of power, sitting on
His ivory thrown Poseidon watches these
Wonders of myth, and relishes in their
Spectacular beauty, vowing never to
Set them free, thee belong to me, my
Sacred water steeds of the bluest deep.
Within the seashells hear them weep,
These creatures of the mystical realm,
Crying out, release us please, can thrust,
Not hear us.
Out of the water, to feel mother earth
Beneath our silver hooves, we give our
Horns of crystal power, or the shimmering
Shine that beguiles our under sea father.
Out of the water, we’d roam in the wilderness
Wild, roll amongst the sandy duns of the desert,
Climb the mountain tops heights, and breath
The sweet air of freedom within our lungs.
Out of the water, for just one single day,
We sacrifice all that we are, or were in
Mysticism mystical realm, just to be free!
Hooves of aquatic thunder these white steeds
Of wonder, slamming against the coral reef
As hail storms rage, set us free their voices
Softly speak through the seashells littering
The sandy beach.
Smooth as ebony silk, black aquatic waves the melting
Essence of liquid evil, stirring this lake placid of our
Eternal nightmares, deadened space in the fathoms
Deep, beneath the dreaming realm for which we sleep.
Translucent tears, left dripping in our unconscious mind,
Trick, trickling, encroaching, drowning us within the
Fear factor, heaving, and tugging at the reality of
Humanities thin realism.
Raw is this blackened well, of emotional plunging,
A pit bottomless, in suctions raw force of power.
Thy soul trying to cling against the porcelain sides,
Yet sliced by the roughed edge of illusions delirium.
Sheer glasses elliptical memorization, hypnotizing
The lucid mind, smacking hands blister at the panes,
Begging for this bad dream to end.
But your voices scream remain nothing except
Echoes refrains, that are lost amongst the complete
Darkness surrounding thee, in this murky abysses
Wake up, wake up, this is not real or is it,
The torn spiritualist grasps at faiths buoy, but
Instead sinks farther below the currents swift
Under currents, then light slits through the dark,
As lightening slashes at the blackest night, and
The dreamer shivers beneath his covers warmth.
Laying within his twisted sheets of sweat,
He wonders if any of it was real at all!
But whom can tell what lucks under the black
Waters of our nightmares, dare you to go swimming,
Into the rivers of the unconscious to find out, and survive.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
The thing about today is that:
It will be different than any other day
Many different factors will share in the reasons
That today will be completely original
The people we encounter can play a huge role
In the way that our day plays out
We have no control over how these people may act
No control over what they may say or do
We can however control the way we allow it to affect us
I have met and been friends with
About every type of person that there is
From healers to killers I have met them all
Shared meals and how we feel;the pressure of it all
I used to allow outside influences
Like these people
To play a role in how my day would go
Then one day I realized that if you remove the water from the falls
All that you have left is a cliff
And of course a hole at the bottom
All the breathtaking beauty of the waterfall is gone
All because some fool decided to build a dam to divert the water
The River had no choice in how its day would go
It had no choice in allowing an outside force
To change its course
Of where it would end today
We have a choice, no matter what anyone does
We can stay on course and maintain the original beauty of our day
As long as we always remember
That this day belongs to us
The only thing that can change that is God, for it is his gift to us all
Clearly I am I.
Carrier of EARTHS NECTAR.
Truth turns a TRANSPARENT BLUE.
WATER BEARER I AM.
AQUARIUS AM I.
HONESTLY NO SCHEMES ALLOWED
I AM I, CLEARLY I AM
AQUARIUS I TAKE A SOLEMN BOW
AQUARIUS TO AQUARIUS
Those Were Golden Days of Splendor
Rushing clear water splattered over the rocks
melding into a huge spraying white foam
The sounds made sent heavenly tastes to my ears
the sight pierced my heart with love's stab
Stab that melds heart to a gentle Soul
a sweet pain born again and again so happily
Fast running stream in my mind's eye endures
stamps images with a clear splash of life
Just a swift stream from my youthful forays
days spent exploring Nature, the world anew
Memories time stamped , precious cargo aboard
faces of family waiting home for my return
Rushing water, a life in a bubbling brook
A memory, a love , a mental picture I took!
Robert J. Lindley, 08-26-2014
note: Looking back at the greatest time of my life.
I was ten years old, rambling the fields and woods
like a roaming gypsy on the prowl. My father was still alive,
my mother young and in good health and best of all my
baby brother was two years old, destined to live 12 more years.
A happy family of 11 children and two parents. Life was good!
Fall tumbles relentlessly on our door steps
young winter birds inducing provoking sounds scamper in trees
Watching winter crawling slowly under our feet.
The night rain wet the ground with sadness
washing away the environmental stench
purging the atmosphere of its infectious dew
And I could absorb fresh air in my lungs again.
I fell into a deep sleep shortly after nine but woke up
by my next door neighbor bustling activities.
Nice showers clean fresh air is the perfect night to
be drenched with sleep but instead I was on my knees.
An unknown burden overshadowed me, disturbing my spirit
raising my curiosity, causing me to ponder over unknown mysteries
unexplainable matters that doesn't concern me, yet they troubled me.
I soaked myself in prayer seeking for a plausible answer
And after praying I fell asleep again; a sleep that
I thought would be peaceful but here I am again
on an unannounced journey to the Far East.
I mysteriously found myself on a university campus in the Far East,
no paint, no color, everywhere was deserted, no one was around
except for dry leaves spreading out on the troubled ground
and dull trees astoundingly lingering in the autumn breeze.
I walked propitiously through the front door along a bare corridor
in search of a toilet to ease my body pressure.
A desolated corridor whose hope seemed to be diminished with the passing of time
a million feet must have trodden upon it, feet in search of freedom ,
feet looking for peace, proud feet, dirty feet, bloody feet, stubborn feet.
Feet looking for revenge and feet marching to the destiny of doom.
I moved anxiously from door to door but every door that I opened I saw
Asian toilet embedded deeply in the ground and clean water flooding all around.
I opened another door and found a western bath filled with clean water
I kept walking along the corridor but all the Asian toilets were flood with water.
At the end of the corridor I found one that was completely dry but there was no toilet inside except for PVC pipe fittings planted firmly in the ground.
I tread along the opposite side of the hallway still searching for a toilet
but only rooms whose doors were removed and leaning helplessly
in front of them occupy the other side of the stricken corridor.
I anxiously left the building and a slim young man in his early twenties
wearing shaded glasses ran behind a reception area outside the campus ground
and pretended as if he was at work, but that was only a deception.
As I walked passed him he tried to reached out to me
He complained about someone who has treated him badly
and pointed to a friend who was instrumental in turning his life around.
A sizable crowd gather around him as he illustrates his painful story.
He and his friend took me to the other side of the campus where
a larger crowd of young people had gathered for a wedding
some were sitting under large beach umbrellas
While others congregate in groups all over the campus grounds.
I walked upon a platform where the wedding ceremony
was about to take place but daylight suddenly exploded in my face.
©2014 Christine Phillips
Atacama, Eden of winds,
flower of abandoned rocks and of sapleter,
homestead of flamingoes and geysers,
and above all ,
below an azure sky,
mountains are carrying on their tops
ice of the past.
Old villages tell us their stories,
Toconce, Toconao, Chiu-Chiu,
carry in their canons
water from deep below
let flowers and vegetables grow.
Chiu-Chiu, oasis of the desert,
a green spot,
surrounded by fragments of history
with the colour of orange, red and brown,
embedded in fragile foam of salt and hope,
the history of the Atacama.
Still alive in their churches.
Fragments of an ancient culture
reflecting on the surface of Río Loa.
Like ants – far away,
dispersed in vibrant light
some Vicuñas are looking
for tranquility and forage.
The geysers of El Tatio
send their hot water into the cold and pure air.
How pacient the Atacama is with us,
slaves of modern times
with the desire for paradise
with the dual face of history and hope.
Salar de Atacama, show me your
cracked and wounded face,
your wrinkles of solitude.
Far in the distance the chain of volcanoes,
with towering Lincancabur,
and its shouldered knapsack of crystals and ice,
holding its splendour towards the sky
with the colours of lapis lazuli and light agate.
Toconao, the ruins of Quitor greet you,
dormant since ages
they narrate the history of the Inca,
of their last refuge and their last battle with
Pedro de Valdivia,
who came with his men
to break the bravery of Inca soldiers
with thunder and destruction.
The waterfalls of the hot spings of Puritama
shoot their water into the air with the colours of rainbows,
drawing delicate faces of life
on dry sand and charming stones.
The wind from the mountains carries songs,
flute music, ancient tunes,
stories of salt, gypsum and clay
to the Valle de la Luna,
to let it remain calm and unchanged
with its eyes filled with dust and stones
in the eternal canto of earth.
Atacama, heart of the North,
plant of wind
in the song of history,
you make the day sound
and rock to sleep the nights,
lonely between the arms of the mountains
and the Altiplano.
The Computer Screen Light
Splints off The Fluid in His
Eyes, And Cascades The
Twinkling Against the Wall.
-She Curls up in a ball-
-He Takes up The Fetal position-
The Headset Poses Security
Against the Deafening Sounds
of Reality. The Light Outside,
Fades to A Deep Blue...
- She Cries To Pass The Time -
- He's Done Crying, No Liquid Left -
He Lies Back on his Chair, in
Sheer Agony. Stems Covered
With Leaves Burst From His
Veins. His legs Root to the carpet.
- Sleep Grants her little solace -
- He Hasn't Slept in Over Two Weeks -
Mimicking Womb Protocol, She
Folds. Clutching her Stomach
She Heaves Forward a Lunguful
Of Bark. Shes Changing
- She Smiles across the Water -
- The Water Ripples Following his Response -
Intertwined in Friendship,
They Grow Towards The Sun...
I lay there in the dirty bath water;
unable to raise myself up, like a
dog in quicksand, I wondered if I
should just yelp, or die, as the
grey water ran into my dream
I must have pulled something,
a muscle, a nerve, or a bank heist,
it wasn’t clear
this must be the same as having
a stroke, I thought; not being able
to use one side, a baby, a dog, waiting
And when I eventually rolled myself out,
and the arm came back to life, I vowed
never to bathe again, unless it was with
Blackness moving slowly into light!
becoming one existance
The stars gather like flocks of birds.
See the colors mix and mingle
Creating the perfect shades of colors, the
most beautiful blue and yellow.
Funny how words could form such a savage thing.
These islands come apart
Gods fingers pulling them into various directions
By his very words they are released.
Morning and nights wed, but they are never
essembled as one.
Out of some experiment called love?
To see us form into flesh and blood
And obeying of water slowly, a piece of dirt
Spreading as far as the eyes can see
Its water circled the new dirt, and calm and
sometimes sea's prevail!
Birth of nations!
The beautiful green, red, yellow, orange and
other shades of our humanity, vibrant fields I seek
and found before the eyes of the almighty.
New species arise, what perfection...
The heavens speak of many moods, and speaks
to us to know the time, are signs and marks of seasons.
Our days and years combined to reason. Two emotions.
One to sleep and the other to wake, His return on earth cometh
And will cease the same by partened clouds and running
horseman, out of the clouds into earth.
And then the ocean filled with the wild and tamed
A whisper into their hearts and souls to multiply
and above the sea which holds the sky, movements of
graceful wings sour the clouds freely, and glide beneath
a wise space
Below a newly born star.....
Atlas! the earth has formed to paint these?
and soon our hands which once held silence
and our hearts held peace! this is good
The earth is spinning, the oceans flowing, our blood passing
the woman exist, our beast wondering, the friut so bright!
This is good! Out of the garden. The murder of innosence
Into our ever lasting taste for flesh, obsession and power
Our need for greed and death! The birth of sin!
Atlas! the setting and rising, our beating hearts
and pulse which slows its rythem by the generations
Generations fade.. nearly rythemless life beats as the dying rose
Unorthodox, this water- bearer rules,
an Aquarian god moody yet calm in the
face of persistent winds…his pail of wine
gushing on mouths of February streams,
like an outpour into first night’s cycle
of unpredictable moves, reigning for thirty
days to unfold like a river-in-waiting,
this heir of brazen stars: a cool dip
born from rose-yellow...red, maybe for
hearts to quiver upon Cupid’s aim.
Oh, his vision is light years ahead of time;
breaking from clasps of tradition,
his maverick streaks defy life's norms
and ignites a Uranus heart to signal
the rise of new dawning…and while he
dives into a crest of independence,
fool he is for needing warmth and affection.
Yet,a blend of hermit's pride and gentleness
dares the element of air to brew a storm,
then romances the lusty sea of love in a flash...
pray tell, how can one define a mystery?
Though I'm Capricorn, this poem is for my
dear brother, my former boss, Sir Tory,
a special guy mate, and close buddy, Arno.
Leonora Galinta's Poem With A Theme,
Zodiac Sign Contest
by nette onclaud 7/09/2014
That I am alive today
Is His grace I should exalt.
That I conceives thoughts
And am able to interprete them
Into words for minds to receive
Is another reason I think
He deserves my praise.
This new episode of my life
Is like a dream.
A dream that
Perhaps I know
Where its starts
But I don't know
Where and when
It will end.
A nation of pieces may not contain
I don't know of later.
Again, there will be water - Soon!
In sleep - the deaf silence
reminded me - last night
a leaf withered...
It reminded me of the vase
In which we were the three of us
Dreaming a dream with dew
Sipping from the month of May...
...and little by little my stem
withered in distress
and my painful leaves
found an excuse in Death...
Again, there will be water - Soon!
With little, gentle handfuls
the Life's cup is filling
with crystals of desire
I dream a hopeful dream
There is the water - plenty
and Oxygen enough...
written at 13, translated now
I should have gone to work today but
your tongue convinced me to come
inside and play with you…to ride our
red rocket ship to the distant planet of
lust where our sensual sins are instantly
forgiven and celebrated amidst mute pleas for
gentle mercy so rightly ignored as a token gesture to
rationality and begging for more is of course
granted by the Court of No Regrets
You alone have always held the secret
key that released the chastised prisoner of
passion locked deep inside of me your taste
buds have caressed every morsel of my
body as if I were an ice cube wrapped
in honey much like the oyster swallowed
whole to tease our ravaged pendulums whose
demand for thirsty water shall be quenched at
the moment our tongues mysteriously turn ice cold
Note Author Disclaimer: to my fellow poets....these are just words
on a piece of paper and an experiment in new
writing styles/expression for me. Topic is not meant to be
abusive or disrespectful to ANY reader. Please note this poem is categorized
by me in the 'Passion' category of PS.
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
I feel the water
all around me
I go further down
to touch the bottom of the pool
on the two painted dolphins
I push my hands down
and my feet break free from the water
shooting up into the air
For a moment
I revel the erectness of my form
My legs above the water
the water trickling down them
I bring them back down
and burst out of the water
head and chest pushing out
Hair...laden with water
spraying a trajectory of liquid crystals behind me
I take in the air
my arms move back and forth
I dip in again
then swim to the far side of the pool
I hold on to the metal hand guards
Put my legs out on the side of the pool
I push myself below the surface
the water, my home
I'm in my element
weightless and happy
the muffled sounds
and dancing lights on the surface
flirt with me
I stay for as long as I can
then I break the surface
Floating on my back
I look at the sky
I feel sublime
chest and tummy tasting the air
where in my mind
I'm beautiful and divine
sultry mistress of the water
he's touching every part of me
I am never as happy as when I'm swimming....the pool lets me be more creative, but I also enjoy swimming in the Mediterranean sea. I've been called a dolphin.... I'm more like another aquatic mammal at present, but even those creatures are graceful and beautiful in the water. Summer is coming....
As I gaze upon the ocean
Blue reflects on the water and in the sky
The horizon only distinguishable by it's hue
Standing upon a bluff on a cliff above the rough
I gaze upon the ocean with all it's power
Pushing waves hour after hour
The rock face gets battered and pounded
In a un-relentless, timeless beat
The water produces an awesome sound
Almost like a methodical beat
The surf rolls in, and rolls back out again
Foam forms around the surrounding stones
Seaweed floats , swaying with the waves
Along the beach are deposits of shells and driftwood
Above the water line sand dunes form
Resembling a landscape like the moon
Moving with the ever blowing winds
As the tides roll out
Little holes form along the beach
Making a haven for the birds to eat
A feeding frenzy does erupt
Cleaning out the sandy floor
Before the waves arrive once more
I stand in breathless quite
Taking in the ocean's mystery depth.
In the musty mountains crevices
covered with overgrown foliage.
Trees hang on the edges
grasping the sheer rock
of these aging towers
that reach for the sky.
The clear pristine waterfalls
flow endlessly, cascading downwards
Into the cool blue pools below.
The water creates a rainbow
within it's downward spiral.
Sparkling water sprays
all that lies in it's path.
As it flows the downhill slopes,
it veers and runs to the canopy
of forest below.
The water along with it's cleansing rain
are nature's refreshment.
Something about water:
Ancient and ageless
The precise quantity since the dawn of creation
(Give or take a few space missions)
Partnered with Sister Sun and Brother Moon
Constantly recycling and returning
Gently raining down upon us
yet rising up in outrage and fury
Flooding the hapless, helpless land
Destroying our false idols
Obliterating our arrogant Towers of Babel
Washing away our filth
Reminding us who is in control...
Something about water:
Quenching my thirst
Pulsing in my veins
Showering me; anointing me
Busting forth and gushing from my eyes
Washing away my sins
Why must I hear
the tempting gurgle
Of the life giving stream
A sound wet with promise
Why must I see
The alluring rush of movement
An enticing flow
Beckoning me to immersion
Why must I but lie here
Dying for want of water?
The sandpaper of my lips
Not even welcoming
A tongue cracked
With not a drop of moisture
to bring relief
To assuage the grief
Or parched dreams
My throat constricts
that fail to produce
My skin dry
Devoid of liquid to cry tears
Why Am I here
Beside this life giving stream
Where is the angel
To lift my weary head
And gently pour this water
On my waiting lips
Again and again
Till I’m somewhat revived
To carry me
into waiting watery wetness
Until I am baptized
In liquid bliss
I’m dying here
Here on the edge
I can almost taste
The stream of your love
Forbidden to drink
Forbidden to taste
Forbidden to touch
Forbidden to love
Forbidden to LIVE
Why must I die?
When the water of life
Eileen Manassian Ghali
In this stormy sea that we call life, you calm the waters.
As I drifted along you cushioned each blow that I received.
In the mist of each storm, your light guided me to shelter.
When I was drowning in iniquity, you bathed me with salvation.
When the water became polluted you cleansed it with your blood.
When I floated out to sea, you anchored me with your love.
At times the currant was so strong, it pulled me underneath.
You wrapped your arm around me and held my head afloat.
Through each trial and tribulation, your waves washed me ashore.
You were my life preserver in a sea of lies and deception.
As you gave me the water of life, My Lord, I gladly give you mine.
Breathe laden islands rise and fall
beneath the steam graced surface of clear water,
capped with rosettes, red-brown, silken, warm,
beaded with water running in rivers
down mountainsides of flesh, puddling,
in the darken depression of navel.
The water rises, about kneecaps
pristine and alabaster in hue.
Angular shoulders hug the far end of the tub.
A slender neck held aloft, crowned with auburn hair
and hazel eyes, changling orbs, of green and gold
an a oval face rivaling Modigliani’s Madonna.
A ruddy glow spreads across high cheekbones.
The rising water submerges all,
but porcelain neck and upturned face,
tendrils, tresses, coil, splay on still water.
Lids droop languidly, lips pout petulantly,
and still the water rises
buoying delicate arms, ending in fingers
...avidly playing.. upon
the pearl white key to desire.