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Narrative Sea Poems | Narrative Poems About Sea

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Details | Narrative | |

Ghost Ship Omen

Scientists say it’s just a mirage,
but sailors claim the ghost ship floats
in air, with stormy seas below.
Again he tries to round Cape Hope.

Captain van der Decken angered God
one savage 18th Century night.
Vowed he’d sail till “Judgment Day,”
to cross the Table Bay, he’d fight.

The Flying Dutchman disappeared
sank deep in foggy, wind-swept sea,
but the captain’s doomed to walk the deck
each night in perpetuity.

King George the Fifth, the Prince of Wales
are two who saw the Dutchman.
Although these royal heirs survived,
most meet death -- the captain’s omen.

His curse prevails in Wagner’s Opera
and Washington Irving’s story;
crews tremble, ghost ship emerges
Dutchman floats in frightening glory.

So many sailors and their ships
still meet demise on starless nights,
when demons steer the Dutchman
and a vengeful God reads last rites.

Till this day the Flying Dutchman
looms threatening on a ravaged sea.
For Judgment Day the captain waits,
luring crews to their destiny.


*Entry for the Story Poem contest.


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The Devil's Tide

I looked up at a silver moon 
Peering through a cloud of misty gloom 
As we sailed across the Atlantic Sea 
That fateful night in June 
 
And as I stood upon the bow 
A furrow crossed my troubled brow 
When I saw a dying star fall from the sky 
As the wind out of the north 
Began to cry 
 
'Twas then with fearful heart 
I came at last to realize 
That we were sailing 
On a wave of ill-tidings 
Known as 'The Devil's Tide' 
 
For no omen of the sea 
Brought more fear than thee 
A fallen star -  a silver moon 
Together in the month of June 
If legend true would surely bring us doom 
 
So with no trace of land in sight 
We sailed onward through the night
I -  the Captain 'Louie Lou' 
With my faithful crew 
Aboard the 3 mast schooner 'Angel - of the Blue' 
On canvas wings we flew 
Upon the wailing wind that blew 
 
Then suddenly a hush of malaise 
Crushed the summer night
Filling all the crew with dreadful fright 
As all the stars in heaven lost their light 
And the silver moon dipped completely out of sight 
Leaving us to drift without guidance 
To our unknown plight 
 
An eerie sound began to roll out of the west 
Growing louder and louder as we held our breath 
Until it was upon us and the ship began rise 
As we looked in horror into the Devil's eye 
As the Angel of the Blue began to fly 
Up the Devil's breast she climbed 20 fathoms high 
 
One by one the Angel's wings were torn away 
As she fought to save us from the Devil's rage 
Screams of horror falling from her timber sides 
As the crew fell into the Devil's tide 
 
And I -  tethered to the helm -  watched them die 
As we climbed even higher into the Devil's eye 
And as the Angel's body creaked and cracked
We finally scaled the crest and rode upon the Devil's back
Just before I fainted and my world went black 
 
I woke up in the morning high on a mountain side 
Never knowing just how I had survived 
knowing only that my Angel and my crew had died 
 
~~~ 
 
Many years have come and gone since then 
And I am forever haunted by each and every one of them 
My faithful crew and my mighty 'Angel of the Blue' 
 
I see their faces in my dreams 
As I awaken to their screams 
Wishing, too -  that I had died 
But someone had to live 
To tell the tale of the 'Devil's Tide'.

~~~~~~~~

Author:  Elaine George
Entry for contest:  Legends
Awarded:  First Place





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King and Queen for a Day

We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in 
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to 
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds 
away, over the hill.

Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on 
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we 
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our  way to the 
rocky mantle below .

There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling 
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’, 
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.  

We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun, 
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and  listen to the sound of the 
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift 
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on 
the ‘Fundy Bay’.



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The USS Indianapolis

It was in July of 1945 
  And the USS Indianapolis
Had a crew of nearly 12 hundred alive
  But a Japanese sub fired and did not miss
 
American sailors had completed their job
  Delivering parts for the first atomic bomb
Some sank with the ship, others in the sea did bob
  No food, few lifeboats, ocean deceptively calm

Surprise attack, no distress signal had been sent
  It was four days later those floating were spotted
The survival rate was just 25 percent
  With hundreds of sailors’ bodies the sea was dotted
 
In the movie “Jaws” as Captain Quint had related,
  “The sharks came cruisin'. So we formed into tight groups.”
Six men per hour were killed while for help they waited
  All were lost but 316 Navy troops

Some victims died of exposure or starvation
  But far more were killed by the sharks that had attacked
These men lost their lives in service to our nation
  But bomb parts delivered had a deadlier impact

One of the last ships that was sunk in World War II
  The Indianapolis had turned the war’s tide
With a mission carried out by a courageous crew
  Victory was soon celebrated by allies worldwide



This is an entry for the History Poems contest


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A WANDERING SHIP

Dark thoughts emerging from a lifeless spirit,
a wandering ship sinking into the remotest depths;
denying itself reality and its sense of comfort...
and was ever there a lighthouse to disperse its darkness?


A captain stirring his erring ship,amid furious waves,
for an imminent and fierce war,
not noticing the making of its destiny...
fighting unnecessary battles of ambiguity,
hoping that luck would bring it safely ashore;
even a small island was hidden from his gaze!


An unwise listener would not take advice from anybody,
he didn't reject it embracing his own vulnerability;
a good decision that didn't imply a cost...
would he ever been discouraged or lost? 


For uncountable years, this eager sea-man,
resisted and spoiled many pleasures for victory...
freezing time to avoid another tragedy 
with a perception so sharp to defy anyone's will!    
And did he deserve the harshest judgment 
from others, who were pleased with their fate?  


Loneliness was chosen by him
for unequivocal reasons and he craved it 
like the bitterest, strongest wine
to make him strong and invincible...
nothing swayed him from his pride
to obtain that impossible goal!


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The Mermaid and the Moon

She climbed the liquid staircase
Just to gaze at gleaming stars;
All she wanted was a wee one
To light up her fair boudoir.

A thousand times she spied them
Flash across the midnight sky;
She strained so high to catch one,
But the mermaid could not fly.

Exhausted with hard striving,
She lay back against the sea,
Rocking on the waves, gently, 
As she rested peacefully.

The moon, climbing his set arc,
Saw her glist'ning on the foam;
At first sight so madly loved 
Her, longing to take her home.

To lightly comb her flowing
Hair, he sent a small moonbeam,
Who tangled in her tresses
And woke her from her dream.

With a flash, her glitt'ring tail
Slapped the water and she fled,
Sliding down in the ocean,
Hiding in her pearl lined bed.

The moon, absent one moonbeam,
Wanders heaven, round and round,
Surveying seas and oceans,
Praying his mermaid is found.

Sometimes in the deep, dark pool
He sees a shining light start
Beneath the frothing billows,
And he clutches for his heart.

Forever in his orbit...
She, forever in the waves,
Her hair with his beam glowing,
All of love he ever gave.

May 31, 2014


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I Tasted Summer

I tasted summer…
It sure tasted good
I was dying for a sip
Of my iced coffee CHINO
Only in Cyprus…
My drug of choice
Crushed ice with sweetened coffee
OH....YES!
In the evenings
succulent watermelon treats
Eating it all with relish
Even the seeds
what greed!

I tasted summer…
In that first dive into the pool
How cool!
Immersed in liquid delight
Open eyes
I touched the bottom of the pool
Two dolphins painted there
Let me have my way...
I did a handstand
Legs pointed straight up into the air
The water running down my legs
Straight up....I held on

Weightless
Weightless
In my element
My hair flowing around me
As I did my strokes
Diving in and out of the water
A fish…
That's how I got described
by the one who watched,
"Your so agile"

Such exuberance
I thought…OH…this is better...
Better that a sensual high
There was I
Gliding in and out
Water above, below, all around
Carrying me
Splashing around me
loving me
Playing...playing with my hair
Saturating my soul
With giddiness

Muted sound
Below the surface
I swim underwater
The width of the pool
I thrust up for air
Water slides off my body
The sun kisses me
Applauding the feat
I taste summer
It sure tastes good

Salty scent in my hair
My body slathered in sunscreen
Sand clinging to me
The beach
My sensing feasting
On every single thing...
My eyes delighted

A small September crowd
Enjoys the breeze
that creates the waves
I wade into the water
Intake of breath
I squeal
It's refreshingly cold
The water laps at my legs
crawling further and further up
Making me gasp
Finally....
I submerge
I laugh

I dive into the waves
One by one
I play...
I push myself high
My face to the shore
They pound on my back
I take a deep breath and let them roll over me
Enjoying the roughness
That "out of control" feeling
This is greater than me

And then
I lie back
I float
Blue above
White puffs: baby angel breath clouds
I let the sun ravish
The water carries me
I forget everything
My mind blank like the blue sky
There is nothing but the NOW
NOW
And there am I
Tasting summer
Salty and sweet
September treat
And happy
Oh, so, happy, am, I!

Eileen Manassian


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BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood


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La Belle et La Bête (Beauty and the Beast)

The sweet neck of her life came adorned with dazzling jewels of the ages;
jewels imbued with holy virtues, long before she was born.
She rose, alone, Venus veiled above a sparkling sea,
her love light flashing wherever she gazed.

As she spun her cosmic spiral, a tiger, hungry with anger and bitterness,
tore at the veil, hoping to claim victory—fire and passion.
Each time she dipped her head, trying to free herself from the ships of ancient
torments that lay anchored at her throat, the tiger roared for more,
devouring jewel upon jewel—fire upon fire, passion upon passion.

She lay, alone, her carotid adornment shortened by the tiger’s every move,
her virtues struck down until she was left grasping at a choker
‘round her throat, her life soon to end.

Then, in the billowing clouds of her torment, she saw Diana rising from the sea.
She stood on an iridescent ivory shell, her arrow poised to strike.
The tiger raged, but could not pierce the clouds.
A red fury filled with fire and passion shot from its hell-born eyes;
its massive jaws spewed hot saliva that set the sea on fire.

The sea itself cried out, “Golden Diana, make your arrow swift and sure;
the world in Venus is quickly fading.
Strike now, the tiger, and restore all aright!”

Even while the prayer was being uttered,
Diana’s aim proved its power as the arrow found the tiger’s heart.

In a flash, Venus was restored,
her long strand of jewels aglow,
the tiger at her side.
Together they stood in a deep, iridescent ivory shell
and made their way out to sea
with a wind that was sure and true.

All was set aright.  All was free
as they sailed into the rising moon,
her Venus jewels lighting the way.



Written in contemplation of Dream Caused by the Flight of a Bee around a
Pomegranate, One Second before Awakening, by Salvador Dali. (1944)


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Lobster fishing

                     Lobster Fishing

It was still dark when I arrived at five o’clock
I commenced the day by going to the wrong dock
I was a little concerned that I may be late
When I arrived they were still loading bait.

The boat started up with a thunderous sound
You must stay the channel so you don’t run a ground
Next you head into the safety of the bay
Everyone’s quiet with not much to say.

As we turn the corner the sun divides the sky and sea
A blend of orange, purple and blue explode in front of me
The sea starts to pick up and the boat gets tossed
A peace grows within all else is lost…

You pull the traps up in what’s called a set
You winch them on board to see what you get
My job was to restock the bait
It seemed kind of an ironic fate.

It was pretty hard work yet so much fun
Me, the boat, the sky and the sun
We had a pretty good catch and turned to go back
The auto pilot planned our course of attack

On the way in you wash down the boat
It cleaned up quite well with water and soap.
As I view around me as it was time to go
The sea put on its own picture show.

When we returned to the river the tide had come in
All of the lobsters had been placed into bins 
The boat was too tall to fit under the bridge
Like smooth sailing and then hitting a ridge.

We had to unload the boat so the catch wouldn’t be lost
Our pride and a little work was all that it cost
When we had finished it was time to rest
Having comfort in knowing we did our best.

We cleaned up and had dinner to end the day
This is my lobster tale of today
Everyone found humor in what I had to say
Then we said goodbye and went on our way.

When I got home I fell fast asleep
I dreamed of a bottom far too deep
It was a long day and I needed to rest
The lobster became someone else’s dinner guest.


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Waves of Change

Waves of Change Changes in life descriptionalized In comparison to waves of the ocean Our bodies are made mostly of water A body of water with flowing emotions Now an ocean will flow peacefully Until there is a bit of turbulence Disrupting from a smooth flow With the up and down currents As we walk onto a new path A different kind of feeling steps in New ventures can be scary in thought Of what is left behind when we begin An air of difference can bring on a spin To a funnel effect as does a water spout Sometimes when in the spin motion cycle We are shaded by clouds and cannot see out When actually caught within the spin We do not see the change is there Our sense of direction is lost We become totally unaware If you are the one caught Within that fast paced spin You will not be able to see The shape you are really in That’s the time we need someone To give us a tap on the shoulder It’s not a matter of who knows more Or which one of the other is older You’ll need a friend like Dory was Saying to just keep swimming the sea To never give up your hopes and dreams As changes in life really just happen to be Florence McMillian (Flo)


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LISA'S IVORY MUSIC BOX

Many Christmas stories are told every year,
and many songs are sung with pure cheer;
do I have a good story, at least one, I can tell,
or a simple song I can hum and spread good will?


When Lisa's grandmother passed away unexpectedly...
by her dying bed she kept an ivory music box,
and to her lovely granddaughter she gave it
to saying," Take care of it, and smile when you think of me!"


The day after granny died, she went down the dark cellar
to hide the ivory music box in an old dresser's drawer,
and once in a while she would open it and play it and listen to it sadly;
the pretty angel swirled...and Silent Night played as Lisa touched it tenderly.


It was almost Christmas Day and the pine tree wasn't decorated yet,
she rushed outside carrying a red basket with ornaments in it;
how could she had forgotten to adorn it with bulbs and garlands?
" Oh gosh, I feel like the Grinch!"  she displeasingly uttered to herself. 


There was no snow predicted for that evening and the illuminated town
was lacking Nature's magical snowflakes to make it festive and vibrant;
five minutes to midnight the choir from the nearest church gathered outside,
and waited for a miracle...silence...tranquility...every heart felt so alone.


But Lisa with an indomitable spirit ordered them to sing, 
and they began singing looking up the clearest, starriest sky;
everyone seemed sad and some of them wanted to cry,
but before sadness set in...snowflakes began falling.


Lisa knew that it was the miracle she had been waiting for,
but something was missing from the snowy scenery...
she remembered her ivory music box she had put away,
and running, with awe in her bright eyes, she opened the cellar's door...


Clutched in her caring, careful hands, she carried the ivory music box,
laid it gently underneath the twinkling, scented Christmas Tree;
Lisa kissed it tenderly...until the golden angel started to swirl at midnight,
as that divine music filled the nippy air...making all cheeks so peachy.        


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Sailing relentless sea

T'was the month of July 
should've been sailing upon calm sea, 
brightest sunshine 
blue sky so clear.
 
For days and days, it rained and rained 
As if the sky's afallin' away, 
Bounced wildly about on wall like waves
T'was death we came to face.
 
Tied ourselves with ropes around our waist
To not to sea be blown and swallowed away 
The only thing for us all to do, was pray
Then mates and the capt'n their voices did raise.

Began singing aloud sailor's songs of old
Drowning out their dread in the sea's assault 
Sudden shower of sunbeams began to pour right out 
Of the opening heavens by gushes of wind, parting clouds. 

Hope returned about the crew
They knew the sea would be subdued
Looking through his spyglass out to sea
The capt'n saw our destination appear.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 05.16.11

 


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Pontoon

Relaxing sea ride with skies of blue.
Gentle waves rock our bodies like a porch swing.
Family laughing and soaking up the sunshine.

Further along waters start to get choppy
Waves grow bigger than a garden wall
Green emerald waters broke our bow
This nearly ended a land lubbin crew
Straight to the bottom the pontoons did dive
I heard a shrill scream of terror escape
When my ankles submerged to a watery doom
I ran to the stern to get more height
Drowning was not the goal nor our plight
The pontoons began to arise like a bubble but
Our motor stalled from the severe incline.
I know now fuel don't run straight up at a ninety degree turn
We had to be at the mercy of the sea while our engine
Decided whether to trust us or not
After several harrowing moments the engine reved
We made our escape from natures deathly fury.


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Requiem for the Wolf of the North

As the days turned to night we would find ourselves pondering our futures
The sky was red in the west as the sun set upon our dreams
We would drop the sails and let her drift
The current our only salvation
Take us where you will and damn the rest
For we had nowhere to be and no one to see
Sometimes we would drift for days and lollygag about the decks
Swimming in the sea or fishing for tuna
Ah what a fight if we managed to hook one
The men would soon become restless and we would once again be under way
Heading north into the teeth of a storm
And pushing her as hard as we could
The work seemed to keep the men hard and clean
And gave them a reason to live 
Tales to tell when we reached port
But we never did
We would take what we needed from the sea
And drink rainwater to quench our thirst
And if the rations became low we would pirate what was needed
Nothing like a good fight to get the juices flowing and feel alive again
The wolf of the north was always at our call
Port of duty: anywhere but here


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Shrine of Love

Shrine of Love

I , the first-timer, am greeted at the gates of this shrine
By the roar of the seas and a  bower of tangled vines
With a two-in-one miracle rising in its middle
A  neem  tree  entwined  by a banyan in a huddle.

I  step inside the little space of  the temple  hallowed
To the sight of the wide seas, but a hundred feet below
And  walk to the railings to get a better view of things
To find,  on  the rocky ground  I stand , waves banging.

So close to the  seas but safe at a hundred feet’s height
The land extends as a wall to the viewers delight
Spangled on its sides with blooms and the top with trees. 
No sands and beach but dotted in places with fans of scree.

Take the thirteen ritualistic rounds around the deity
Wondering  all the while why it has got to be thirteen 
Prayers  for family done and  set, for home ,to  push off 
Mobile rings to bring from across the seas my friend’s  LOVE..

It was as if the  exotic  setting  got a new focus
With the caller holding line  I  pray  for  the two of us
While  I turned a  human  two-in-one like the twin-trees 
My friend on the phone heard  the temple drums with glee.


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A New Year Reflection

Partys for couples new lovers and just friends.
Music to fill the night the streets of New york 
breath life to old flames keeping even jaded souls warm.

The lonley gather round the TV.
sharing a glimpse at something we all yern to have.
And from the up high the streets seem magic tonight.

the soudtrack of the night will echo
into are hungover minds with a painful yet happy reminder 
of last nights celebration.

Late night lovers will smile and go there awkward ways.
So many acts in so many different plays.
creeping back to are corners in lastnights suit and tie.
Tight little black dress kiss worn lips 
acting happier than two kids ragged in need of a shave
you with hair in a mess.

And for friends that gather to relive not so real 
past glory.
The pages are left to the writter.
To add to lastnights not so original story.

As the barflys gather to battle another unsober day.
I watch this first new day anew.
Take a sip from my flask and thank the lord 
for one more year with you.

And tonight I say to you all raise that glass.
kiss that stranger you know so well.
Laugh love and live.
And thank whomever ya choose weve made it through another
year to tell.


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Adrift

I flounder alone
in the sea of dismay
floating on swells that lift my being
but not my soul

though walls of water that have no doors
my ship of dreams
slowly sinks under the blanket of evening
I sleep yet am awake

fingers of a vile wind
tear its silken sails
and send ribbons
across a dark sea like frenzied seagulls

through the long night
away from the nightmare
I float into a golden ocean
where red hibiscus fall from azure skies

and gentle hands of Posiden
pull me onto white sands
where Apollo shines eternally
in this forgotten jewel of the Pacific


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The Sea

I am walking down the beach
Asking  the sea what does it want to say to me
While I am watching these presents of celestial beauty
It seems to me that a pale blue sky
With vast white clouds holds something of my own in it
But tide is bringing waste back on the sand
 I am imagining that the sea is boiling and bleeding
And I see man`s misery and
Can`t condone his wickedness 
My dream of finding peace in nature is shattered
Being beside the sea is impossible
Musing  is unbearable
The mirror is broken


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Mr. Crab and Mr. Anemone

(A hermit crab has just realized that he can barely fit into his shell and the only other 
creature in earshot to hear his cries is a sea anemone who lives on the hermit crab's shell and has been the hermit crab's close friend for many years.)

Lament dear shell! For we stayed in the sun too long and you have shrunk!
How shall I survive with out you to protect me and house me from the sea?

   Shrunk!?!  A sea-shell?  How is it that a shell could shrink, I ask you Mr. Crab?
   How could something hard grow small?  Maybe something that is soft grew large?

Mr. Anemone, what exactly do you mean?  Something that is soft???
My shell is hard and my claws are harder.  I can crack coconuts and coquinas alike.

   No doubt, Mr. Crab, your claws are hard indeed, as hard as the shell on your head.
   But what about your tail?  Could it be that your tail has grown too big for your house?

Mr. Anemone, don’t be foolish.  I am as fit as a fish and sleek as a snake.
I highly doubt that my tail could be at fault, to be honest; I’m a bit insulted you would say so.

   Dear Mr. Crab, my intent is not to insult but to illuminate OUR current predicament.
   The shell on which I sit and in which you live is no longer big enough for YOUR tail -- are 
you listening?

Oh, excuse me Mr. Anemone, this blue-green algae is wonderful today.
Would you care for a snack?  It really is quite delicious and you are looking a bit thin.

   Mr. Crab, case and point!  You have already eaten breakfast twice today, this is your third.
   I believe we have narrowed in on the reason your shell has “shrunk”.  Are you paying 
attention!?!

Mmmmm, delicious algae; its so sweet when its fresh.  Oh yes, I heard you.
The sun has shrunk my shell and we must now say goodbye to our old home.

   Mr. Crab, a moment ago you were crying about the lack of room and potential eviction 
from our home,
   Now you munch away, ever expanding your tail and threatening our protection and even 
our lives!

(something floats down from the surface and comes to rest on the sand a few feet from Mr. 
Crab and Mr. Anemone)

Hello, what’s this Mr. Anemone?  Round opening, hard outer surface and very shiny,
And writing on the side, hmmm, “bud-weis-er”.  Budweiser!  Sounds like a great name for a 
new home.

   Yes indeed Mr. Crab.  When all hope seems lost and the end seems near, Mother Sea 
provides.
   And it would seem she has provided something big enough even for YOUR tail.


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Flotsam and Jetsam

The sea was calm on that fateful day
The crew keen and eager to get on their way
The cargo was loaded, all men were on board
The captain at the helm was standing tall

They raised the anchor with a mighty cry
And bade farewell with a heartfelt sigh
Leaving their loved ones with a fond embrace
Not yet knowing the perils they faced

They raced through the waters with rapid speed
The sails billowing out as the captain took heed
Of the clouds building up looking heavy and mean
Would they make it to safety and land unseen

But the seas became heavier, their faces were ashen
When the captain gave the order with gusto and passion
“Toss the cargo to the sea, we need to make light
Or we’ll not make it through the long, dark night”

They threw the cargo over the side
With speed and haste and nowhere to hide
But still they were sinking with no hope in sight
Of land, or man, or a guiding light

And in the still of the morning when all was calm
While the waves rolled in under the coconut palm
All that was found on the distant shore
Was flotsam and jetsam from a ship no more


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My Father Gone These Forty Years

My father gone these forty years,
my mother gone twenty, I remember...
the acrid smell of tobacco
on my mother’s rough fingers,
as she sat, silently,
in a predawn Texas coastal town,
my head in her lap, the short-wave
radio crackling with static.
She strained to hear the chatter of
shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico,
yelling out to each other
in Cajun patois French,
Mexican Spanish, accented English;
she stroked my nine-year-old hair,
her middle-aged body aching,
hungry, worried, sleepless,
far from her roots, stranded
in this strange, dry,
totally foreign place.
Her imaginings of my father’s
struggles with the sea
and its weathers filled her mind,
and she knew, all the while, that
even if he were safe, earning money,
he (and she) would fail
and we would still suffer
the poverty of the hopeless
and desperate doomed
whose minor, occasional comforts
were only, onshore, the cold beers
and noisy camaraderie of the others
like him, like her,
like us.


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Three ships

As I walked near the sea one day
out of a summer sky 
came three sailing ships
with billowed sails
so silently on high they floated in the
quietness of that June afternoon
not a sound did they make
as onto a gentle bed of ocean
they did alight
greeting the white caps
that danced in their presence as a
trembling blue sea wrapped its arms 
around their heaving hulls that sailed off
into a western sky - listing gently, they sighed
on a watery voyage towards a unknown horizon
and cupping my hands
to my brow I watched as they became
specks in the distance 
engulfed by a fiery sunset
of a disappearing day..


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Great God Neptune

As the great God Neptune rises from the sea
he wears the Statue of Liberty as his crown 
for all to see 

he can make the earth shake the waters boil and the winds to blow 
 everyone must understand that the earth is his kingdom
it is a living thing it deserves and needs your care your blessing
your respect and most of all your love to exist for all eturnity

Neptunes message is simple to understand, to bring peace, freedom
and a clean earth from sea to shining sea 
for you and me





 



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Limassol Twilight

It was a warm summer night
In a glowing neon dream
When I walked under palms
By the ultra-violet sea

Where Soft light rained down
Gently spread upon the beach
Hazy sky and oceans blurred
Aqua, orange, purples, pink

In the atmospheric twilight
I strolled the endless avenue
Mixing with the bar lights
Entranced by the sea view

Reflecting on the waters 
Were flickering yellow strokes
Where freight ships turned to fairylights
Like a painting on the Rhone

Along the lamplit concourse
Ambient and watercolour washed
A stream of strollers poured
Soaking up the dusk

And With the flow of a ghostly breeze
I brushed by lovers and loners  
Slender exotic joggers
And the Sunset bathing homeless

To this day it burns inside
My first night in Limassol
Industrial Miami
She left colours in my eyes


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A PIRATE'S STORY

We used to rent a very old house
for our summer vacations, it was built
in the early fifteen hundred by criminals
who roamed the Atlantic Ocean for gold and diamonds:
roof, windows and doors reminded us
of a dark house that pirates frequented
in the Caribbeans...one could imagine 
how many treasure chests were there with one 
of them watching over them most of the day;
and had he gotten drunk, they'd have dumped him
into the Ocean! Those pirates were merciless:
life meant nothing to them as they pillaged and killed.
There was no air conditioner,
and we left the windows open,
so we could sleep comfortingly, but here and there
weird sounds were heard turning into a human voice,
" Child, wake up and come with me...
I'll tell you a pirate's story you haven't read yet,
the one that actually happened when I was your age."
His red face had marks that only swords could have carved;
his pointy nose as dirty as a kid playing with mud,
his teeth rotten and yellow with a horrible stench.
" No! " I screamed, but my scream no one could hear
as he pulled me off my bed and dragged me outside.
" Why are you afraid of me, child? I mean no harm!"
And as he said those words, I looked back and worried
about my family inside that unlit, haunted house...
with a subdued sob, I agreed to go with him and hear
the story he couldn't tell anyone, thinking he was mad.




Written by Andrew Crisci
for Gail Doyle's contest,
" Stranded Or A Ghost Story Of Your Choice
Any Horror Movie "


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Near Death Experience

Back when I was twelve, my dad built me a dabchick
I had great fun learning how to sail it getting many dunking's
Us kids used to sail around the harbour and race to the spit.

One day after racing back and forth several times,
the wind started to pick up and the others headed ashore.
But I carried on, this  was way too fun as I sped about.

The squall grew stronger and I turned turtle several times
up righting my boat I foolishly carried on until as I up ended her
I was hit on the head, dazed I sat on the up turned hull.

Unable in the squall's strength to get her up right
I clung to the centre board and watched the harbour wall get closer
too dazed to realise the danger I was in I just sat there waiting.

Lucky for me the yacht club notified the life boat and it came out,
rescued in the nick of time they took me aboard and dried me off.  
They towed my dabchick still turned turtle back to the yacht club.

My parents Dad especially were furious and I was grounded for
the rest of the summer while dad repaired my dabchick.
My humiliation was complete when the local paper covered my rescue.

I learnt that day to respect the sea and treat it with caution.
My story could have ended so differently. Yet I remained a dare devil
and went through two very bad car clashes with barely a scratch.

Now at last much wiser I take things much more steadily
and rarely take such risks after all I am not invincible.
Just someone who pushed her luck right to the edge.

written 11/02/2014

contest: Near Death or Near Life Experience 


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MY TREASURE BENEATH THE TIDES

The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind, 
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence!  

And still the sea offers them its promise,
a distant shore untouched by man...
by his greedy ways and incompassion,
causing the extinction of many species;
my reflection is based on fact :
we can't survive without them!

The stylish wild birds engage,
as if striken by a sudden rage,
in their frantic, daily dance over the marina,
as I listen the melancholic lyrics of  " Nessun Dorma "...  
the exquisite area of Puccini,
which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli!
   
 At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline,
the brass lampposts light up with reluctance...
to shy away the presence of any ghost; 
I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides,
hoping someone will find it  and remember my work... 
long after my thoughts will be no longer alive! 


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Church On Virgina Hill

All grown up now
Since that night we made our childhood vow,

I visited that beach along Virginia hill,
I walked it for miles; even saw that old wind mill,

The ocean roared like a tiger that had spotted its prey,
Yet I continued on my merry way,

Some would wonder why I would come here on such a dreary day,
But those where the times we went out and loved to play,

Remember the fall of 1992?
We discovered that deserted church and nobody knew,

We walked for hours and you saw past the rocks,
A broken-down building shaped like a box,

The stain glass windows were the only things beautiful left on it to see,
The doors were busted down from a fallen oak tree,

The cross still stood strong way on the top,
The steeple looked as if at any minute it was going to drop,

We ran away from home just for the night,
Their at the churches footsteps you held me tight,

It began to rain, I’ll never forget,
You took your shirt off so I would not get wet,

We were only thirteen what did we know about love,
But the night was our own and we fit together like a glove,

Both from broken homes, both had shattered dreams,
But for a moment we were King and Queen,

We made a promise never to forget,
The love we shared since the day we met,

You kissed me for the very first time.
I swear I heard the angels chime,

That winter your mother moved away,
Your mom left so fast my heart was in disarray,

She was in a state of trauma from your dad cheating,
I was in a state of trauma that you were leaving,

Now as I walk, years later, back into this place,
I can still hear your laughter, I can still see your face,

Trying to be my absolute hero,
Even if your bank accont was at zero,

It’s funny how time will always go,
But a place can keep memories of long ago,

I can still smell the pouring rain,
The night you froze all my little girl pain,

Now as I sit and look out at the raging sea,
It feels as though you never left me.

By: Sabina Nicole
Contest: Church
Written: 9/23/11



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The Sea

Waiting silently by the phone was all he had.

Grasping the bottle he drank greedily.

The waiting was all he had at the moment.

He roared,"arrrrrgh!"And the sound comforted him.

He dialed his son to wish him Happy Holiday.

The son had no father but he waited too.

Like a cast away he scanned the bottle searching for a note.

The two went back to the waiting and it helped.

It was something to do to kill time and it was honest.

The sea was deep and danger waited there too.

So all three gathered together in silence.

The father sent memories on the ferry to the son.

"Arrrrrgh," helped and it comforted the man.

He was in the navy so he loved the sea and the sea returned it.

The father watched and scanned the waves with hope.

And the gulls screaming words that only gulls understand.

What will become of me after the message is delivered?

Will I ever cross and grasping the bottle.


I loved you and The Sea.


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SILENT FLIGHT

What lies beneath a sea of numb
Where ships of heart were taken down
Sunk to the bottom with the one
I hated and I meant to drown

For in its hull it carried pain
Instead of what its purpose was
And thus I had immense disdain
Because it never carried love

So yes, I set it in my sights
Then fired all I had and more
Carpet-bombing through the night
To sink it to the ocean floor

And when it finally disappeared
I flew away and did not know
The others ships were likewise pierced
Doomed just as well to slip below

They sank at random, one by one
The ships of pride and hope and fear
Of aspiration, sad and fun
The ship of peace, the ship of tears

The ship of drive, the ship of will
No ship was spared, the plight went on
They fell, and fell, and fell, and fell
Until at last all ships were gone

So now in silent flight I go
No signals come as were before
No guidance from the sea below
No hope of landing…anymore

…Jeff Bresee


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TITANIC VISION - This was my fourth poem written in April 1998 - Rhyming

The great one glides to her ultimate destiny

Soon to etch in time an infamous legacy

All souls aboard not knowing their fate

An iceberg ahead,

just lying in wait

This huge ship of iron,

cutting so easily through a wave

About to send so many to a watery grave

Dozens of safe crossings by it Captain so proud

Confidence buoyed by calm seas,

and nary a cloud

Little children run and play on her gigantic deck

The Lord knowing for some,

their parent's last trek

Young lovers,

completely oblivious of the future

Set plans for America,

and offspring they'll nurture

Yet this massive ocean,

Earth's giver of life

Can be so unforgiving,

making widows of many a wife

The rich and the poor,

standing shoulder to shoulder

Going down with Titanic,

never to grow older

As loved ones in life boats,                    

hear those horrible cries

They are doomed to relive them,                  

for the rest of their lives

Copyright © 2014 Robert William Gruhn - All Rights Reserved

"A poem to me is the essence of any thought,
Being built from its foundation into tower scraping sky.
It can fly like no other bird to places never seen,
Even spaceships can only dream of taking its place."

© 2014 Robert William Gruhn


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The Sea Blue Eyes I

Once in a while I meet a person whose eyes tell their story
The story is like the sky reflection on the seas of glory
The eyes are all the wonder of the world
It sees the future, past, and present
The eyes give us knowledge of the world and reflection
The reflection of sadness and weakness of each creature
The wonder of each individual being has a present
To the world who has lots of false images
To arise the moment of that one glance
To follow the heart in romance
Just the reflection that gather in your eyes of blue
What a man and a woman should view
Life is such a pain without stopping to see each eyes
Its like roses you have to enjoy each passion in side
When that moment collides with mind and heart
Nothing in your soul can keep your love apart
Join in the fun look in every eyes of a person beside
With passion and romance I bet you, you would cry
The luster of all the things to come
A bounty of life long needs to be given by just the wonders of the eyes
The blue seas reflects the different depths of our feelings
And it should become revealing
Come to your senses with ravaging hormones of lust
The sea can take you and even the reflection in the eyes of the person
The beauty is not held by one it is held by everyone
Such looks with fear for no relief
Is almost a dreadful part in our human nature
Beware of what can happen when emotions are held
Held to the core of an individual
No such thing is kindness when you find yourself in the Sea Blue Eyes
Calling in your soul by just looking
With ignorance you play around with such futile emotion
Gush away the fear and do not go insane with life so dear
The grasp of the titans comes to reveal
The evil within your heart is so obscenely noticed
You want the sea and you want those eyes to look at you with wishes
The rage in the heart are waves that cannot stop 
It pushes and pushes with no regret
The heart falters and there is only one thing in your mind
The idea of one soul to be with is the ocean 
The rifts that is trying to break to end the wants of desire
Cannot be trusted in a human lier
The beauty of man is destruction 
The beauty of women are commands
The eyes of each does not matter in the sea
Because all emotion and desire is given to those who are true
Command of a person is just one thing 
The desire to destroy is another
The Sea Blue Eyes will see no bother cause it bares it all
Even the utmost desire
To be continue.


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Night of the Ghost Knight...

Tender Rose! watch tonight
I reach thee there, in a wondrous flight
Sighs, storms not any more
as wanton winds soften the roar.
Tearing apart the paths I 'll be
trotting triumph through the untamed sea
hold unto thy dreams for a while
as riding I come charging the vile.
Queen of hearts, my charming bride!
shining I near over the tide
Danger, Death my old delight
truest promise tonight, must see the light.
Dogs, savages of the dark
Come an' they shall be ripped apart
Guides me truly...heavenly a spark
never let Fear rule thy heart.
The moment I kiss this castle enchanted
my silver armor in crimson painted
four or forty heads...I need not know
though fiery monsters shall be lying low
Moonlit sword shall drink the sun
the fire of my breast shall make them burn
Fear not faerie queen then, my faerie dove!
witnesses every move...the angel of love.
Softly like rain...fall into my arms
O' Heavens! Thy countless ethereal charms!
I shall fly thee...through kind the flashes of the moonbeams
away from tempests...to mid summer's night's dreams.!
Unpin the braid...we'll sail in the wind
hoofs won't touch the hard roads blind
into the sea of love...where no chains can bind
as mortal fear, mundane terrains...we leave behind...


Note-As the sailors enter the Thorde sea...they can hear a faint voice singing. As they 
move further deep into the waters...the wind all of a sudden hums low an' the voice grows 
distinct. A clear ringing voice...pain or ecstasy, they cannot make out. It sings of a deathly 
night...of a Knight an' his beloved...the rescue an' an almost successful escape. That 
night..as the two approach the sea...the knight finds his ship...set ablaze by some 
treacherous spirit...gone unbeaten. At this moment of great fix...ten arrows strike the knight 
from the back...poison tipped. The beloved princess is speechless in ecstasy...an' she 
knows nothing of this immediate dreadful strike. As a knight ...never falls or fails...he looks 
above, at the gleaming heaven in earnest pray...an' with his beloved holding him close; he 
storms into the sea with the horse. The waves this moonlit night...remind you the tale once 
more....as in above...


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Jump

The water feels cool as it laps at our toes
The air almost damp, full of unspoken ghosts
Resisting the urge to brush off the sand
that's peppered your cheek, I sit on my hands

I begged you to jump, seems you never heard
Or maybe you did, just forgotten the words
How can you sleep while you fight what you want
But as you turn to me, you know where you belong

Convinced that you're going to leave as you stand
Until you reach out, pull me up by my hand
At the edge of the water, you ask what do I see
But the reflection still looks the same to me

I focus on the shallow waves, crashing on my toes
The break upon the sand whispers 'Never let me go'
I raise my eyes to find it's you speaking the words
I'd begged for you to jump, it seems that you have heard

Then you say if we go, we go now, together
I can't let this be, I can't let this wither
Are you ready to jump? To give up the fight?
Our hands, they tremble, yet still they unite


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Sonnetina Sequence-THE RIPE ORCHARDS

September has come
and the ripe orchards
abundantly display their delicious fruits:
peaches of delicate rose,
and cherries of deep red!
Teens, with their empty baskets, 
anxiously run to pull them 
off the drooping branches;
and one of them yells,
" I have gotten the first one! " 



What a gleeful celebration for youngsters 
about to return to loved-and-hated school
with their band-new and heavy backpacks;
and they will write about these harvest's moments,
and wait with exciting eyes how their writings
will be scored by their teacher, and if someone 
should cheat, points will be taken away...so kids,
squash your curiosity and kindly behave!
All of them did their best in writing poems without rhyme,   
poems of a harvest with an aroma so fine!



The hot afternoon reddens the faces
of all the experienced fruit-pickers,
and these struggling young ones
can't speed up to their pace!
" Hurry, Jack...let Susan help
you with your over-loaded basket...
everyone has finished picking and gone! "
What a humorous remark that
even makes the sullen and tired sun 
smile...when his duty is coming to a sudden end!
 


Happily they trot out of the orchards, singing nursery' rhymes,
sustaining the heaviest load they have ever felt ,
not to let their baskets drop and give the watchful squirrels 
a chance to snatch some of the tempting fruits away!
And as they look up, dusk makes its appearance to scare them away!
And as if they were chased by unleashed dogs,
some fall, some run for their lives...an useless drama started by fancy!
Much fun they had, but unhappy about the bruises on their knees,
at least, they had one consolation: all the peaches and cherries they could eat!
And they laughed at each other, no one could ever forget about their fright!


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Ristorante Le Tre Sorelle

LE TRE SORELLE 


My favorite spot in Italy, and perhaps anywhere, was Ristorante Le Tre Sorelle 
in Positano. It was at the bottom of at least a hundred stone steps, just on 
the right, and right on the beach. A hundred steps seemed like ten, with 
delights for the senses on every step. Chic bikini shops with tan young clients, 
tiny pastry shops, ice cream vendors, mini-galleries, and lone musicians, all 
bathed in the soft bright sunlight of the Amalfi Coast. 

Le Tre Sorelle had affordable pasta and a priceless view. Between 
checkered tables and cobalt sea marched the ancient beauty of humanity in 
every form and state. 

Over espresso, we created names for people in this parade, to suit our 
fancy. “There is Mr. and Mrs. Cold Obtrusive boring Mr. and Mrs. Kind 
Receptive.”, we might say, or, “There is Mr. Old Fat Rich failing to interest 
Miss poor Young Georgeous.” Sometimes we would separate our unwitting 
victims into “should wear bikini”, “maybe should”, and “never should” 
classes. We made up other rude categories depending on how much wine 
we could afford with the affordable pasta. 

The challenge of youth in Positano was to find a place to sleep for free. 
Step one in this quest was to find a pretty girl who also had a hotel room. Step 
two was to persuade her to share it. Step three was to sleep on the beach. 

But the beach was duly patrolled by the Beach Patrol. So the trick was 
to dance in the last-open disco until everyone, including the Beach Patrol, 
were too tired to care. Then with luck, we could borrow some fisherman’s 
boat cover for the night, until the fisherman went fishing. Still, this meant 
one or two good hours of sleep. 

Besides, at sunrise, we could swim in the sea and chill ourselves awake, just 
long enough for the first espresso of another beautiful day, at Le Tre Sorelle. 

In spite of youthful nonsense, the crushing beauty of Amalfi, both human 
and stone, pressed it’s lovely wisdom deep inside our souls. 


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The Sound of Peace

The sound of peace
Like a waterfall
Whispers in your ear
Like a sea breeze
Lay your head upon my shoulder
And rest
Your time will come when you can sleep
You will hear the sound of peace
Like a waterfall while you sleep
Whispers in your ear
Like a sea breeze
And  when you close your eyes
You will see the light
The light will guide you
To the sound of peace
Like a waterfall
Whispers in your ear
Like a sea breeze
Lay your head upon my shoulder
And rest
Your time will come when you can sleep
And feel eternity
Oh so sweet
g. Goodwin 5/07


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A FIRM FAITH

It was a glorious, hot day soothed by the August's breeze; the town's copper bells
harmoniously chimed in their old, sturdy bell towers
as the band tuned to their festive sound with trumpets, trombones and marching drums. 
The large square resounded with thousands of voices,
a procession of faithful flowed to the Church of Saint Stephen.
I ran upstairs with heavy breath to tell my sister to follow
them, but there on the flloor she layed with upward eyes, kind of lifeless;
and so hepeless not to find anyone, I stepped outside and saw
the saint's pious face and invoked Him for a miracle...suddenly I went back, 
and instantly her face regained color and she began talking. I was convinced
that such a miracle happened because of my firm faith,
and that vision reinforces my belief that saints are the intercessors of God.


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Hello blue skys nice to see you again

Hello blue skys nice to see you again,

I can now see clouds and tiny jet planes.

The sun is high up too high to touch too hot to clutch,

Oh how I wish I could feel that burning, magnificent ball of fire.


Snow, its sad you've gone,

But you had to go,

You had your time, you had your roll,

This was the final destination.


By: Ava Douglass 
Age: 12


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Body Surfer's Twist

Body surfing on the Atlantic Coast A towering wave was headed my way The challenge of which I sure planned to boast Already I was thinking what I might say Caught it far out, rode thirty feet toward shore In four-foot water I rose joyfully My friends on the beach were in an uproar So I took a deep bow so gratefully Just why my friends were going on and on Gave me pause ‘cause it wasn’t my best ride Against me a sleek figure brushed upon Was stunned to say the least, I must confide Had a dolphin chosen to ride with me? ‘Twas then I saw swimmers fleeing the sea Just as the Coast Guard pulled me to safety A shark revealed its hammerhead to me
*Entry for Joe’s “Twisted Minds” contest


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The Sea Blue Eyes II

There she is the false image standing quietly
She is just standing looking at a beautiful flower
She notices her passion of earthy desire
Something is happening she burst into the sun
I look up as her hands grasp my face
Her sea blue eyes gazed at me
Her warm hand and then a bright light blinded me
I went down on my knees and cried
The salty water dropped on to the ground 
I live by the ocean so deep
I do not know how to swim
By the thought of a beautiful look 
That made me shake
With fear in my head I saw those Sea Blue Eyes
I cannot restrain myself she burst into the sun
What is going on is it just the feeling of being left behind
She was a desire and now I have none
Driving nuts and insane what will I do
Believing such a image is a dream
I walk on the sand by the ocean with flowers in my hand
Raising it to the sky and trying my best to lure her
The image came close 
It pulled me into the ocean I was soaked
What a lonely human being I am
I grope the sky with such desire
I look pitiful and look anguished
What horrible feeling I have to pull the beauty that is nature down
The wind blew one day the image once more appeared
A young woman standing beside a flower with deep Sea Blue Eyes
Looked at me a glance of hope and happiness came
I reached for her and all of a sudden I fell into a deep sleep
Months past they had told me that I jump off a cliff 
They explained that the flower patch was by it
I realize heaven and earth cannot be reached with out a sacrifice
With meaningless thoughts I would wonder of to the cliff area
To see the ocean were it meets and ends
I was told a story long ago that the feelings of the ocean can seep into your soul
The trend of this story came shortly after some deaths
I was fooled the lady with the Sea Blue Eyes can manipulate anyone
Ladies and men, she is an illusion of the utmost desire
Blaming everyone human kind knowing they are lyres
The ghostly images that creeps everyone is oneself
Desire falls upon those who are lonely 
Believe of the unnatural becomes science
The Sea Blue Eyes is no lie cause they have been taking souls
Through century they have been taking souls for tolls
I stood once again near the ocean reaching to the sky
Lonely I was ready to disappear 
One day she not the lady of the sea it was the one I knew
I was blessed that day she embrace me 
I then fell into a slumber of bliss and desire
Now I just hear voices and I am paralyze down
A disappointment I was fooled once more by the Sea Blue Eyes 

To be continue.


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The Lobsterman

The Lobsterman

She sits alone, hands gripping her coffee cup
Staring out the window at the mist that shrouds the village,
Watching lazy rivulets of moisture meander down the glass
Where is he she wonders, her imagination fearing the worst

She brightens at the crunching sound of footsteps
Approaching up the cottage walk
The door opens, he's home, filling the room with his presence
He removes his slicks as the oceans scent permeates the kitchen

"You're late, I kept your supper on the burner, sit down and I'll get you a plate"
He drops into a chair, acknowledging her offer with a smile
"The traps were light today" he says, "my catch didn't cover the fuel"
He starts to eat the meal she placed before him, his thoughts lost within himself

"Tommy came home from school today, excited about a field trip" she says,"asked if he 
could go"
"Its gonna cost $20.  I told him I'd talk to you about it"
He looks at her and she can see the pain in his eyes, the stress lines on his face
His eyes red rimmed from too little sleep and too much worry

"I've got to pay my stern-men come Friday, and a payment on the boat is coming due
Might have to let one go til things get better, but a lot less traps I'll be able to pull
Can't make no promises about the field trip, but I'll see what I can do"
He pushes back from the table, says "I'm gonna go take a shower now"

She waits til he comes back to the kitchen and they sit and talk quietly together
Abruptly he says "I'm thinking I may have to sell the boat and take a job in town"
She is startled by his statement, shocked he would consider such a thing
All he knows is lobstering and the sea runs in his veins.  Her heart aches for him

"Why don't you sleep on it" she says. "You're exhausted, You need to rest"
Together they retreat to their bedroom, but sleep eludes them both
She lies there thinking how much she loves him, how hard he works to earn their 
keep
He lies there thinking of tomorrow, wondering how much longer he can survive

She wakes before the dawn, the bed already empty,   
He has departed for the harbor in the dimness of the morn 
She knows the sea will always be his mistress, her siren song seducing him each day
She feels the helplessness and fear surround her, and she prays for a better catch 
today


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Voices Rose Beyond the Sea

A song she carries in black locks,
Her treasure brings their ship to dock.
Transparent to the deafened mute,
To eloquent a note to loot.
Set to mesmerize the men,
Fixed upon this maiden gem.
So caught up in her melody,
Forgot a cast beyond the sea.

A drink to her!
Another round!
To satisfy,
A lustful hound.
So beautiful,
A girl so fair;
Like mermaids,
In a water’s lair.

Tonight they’ll empty Davy’s fears,
And bask in heaven’s light and tears.
To smell the lavender and blooms,
A rare treasure sure to lift the gloom.
To drink and sing their past regrets,
tomorrow’s day brings toil and sweat.
For death awaits in lines and sails,
Their true mistress - the sea-bound trails.

Another drink!
And fare thee well…
A tale of wonder,
Sure to tell.
About this night,
Her song will swell -
Above the open sky,
And dwell.

They sailed from Nova Scotia‘s Pier.
The jealous ocean soon brought fear,
As waves as tall as mighty oaks;
Did crash into their fishing boats.
The mast did crack and slam her deck,
The men all struggled soaking wet.
Then voices rose “Farewell to thee,
Our maiden…” then sunk into the sea.


Details | Narrative | |

The Cliffs(revised)

The Cliffs

High tide brings death to those trapped on the rocky beach.
The steep and sharp cliff harbors beauty and certain destruction,
A history of demise for ship and soul has been told through the legends
Of folk lore, it is said that the waves lull a man into hypnotic serenity.
Peace and safety sweep over a mind and then the cliffs have their game.
The lonesome call of the dolphin and shore birds beckon me...
Return to the cliffs, find your true passion of life; you are safe here.
Come you weary, find your rest and contentment...
The waves spray a fine sea mist into the air; the air seems cleaner and fresher
Than any other place on earth. Sea creatures roam freely, across the sand unafraid of 
my human presence in their domain. Waiting for the chance of a decomposing meal 
offered by the cliffs violent beating on my person. The cliff is the mother of the 
shoreline, protecting her creatures and providing the meals.
The brave play games, tempting the cliffs with their very lives. I will walk away 
today, choosing to respect the cliffs power and the legends lore.


Details | Narrative | |

kidnapped in Space

outer space dreamers
minds are away
walking on worlds
alluring to stay
shuttles have arrived
the sounds are too deaf
blue light stones 
and sea like air
making creature's real scary
and sun's beamed in our hair
some one is near
with robes as there faces
they look with there fingers
and scare us to places
they 're breathing in sounds
and leaving us spaceless
help could be coming
the night light's still on
one's in sight 
no kid's in room
were being carried away
with sea like fingers
a star ranger called boomer
almost in time
looks like their here
too far to go after
still in our Space
our squardships are faster
 looks like duck tape
and drool's like captors
mints and a night light
are clues were coming after


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Children and Snow

Ruddy faced tots
lick ice pellets
off soggy red mittens...


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THE GIGOLO OF VIA VENETO

Everybody knows him as Alessandro,
the handsome gigolo of Via Veneto,
and his lucky charms he sells to many a gorgeous lady,
he approaches them and says,
" Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"
as he struggles with words, she replies,"Oui"
And he continues with a perfect accent, "Je t'ame!"
shocked by the womaniser, the slender French young woman
looks at him and starts to laugh with an entertaining wit;
but the gigolo insists, " Tu es tres belle!"
And the petite mademoiselle exclaims," Merci!"
How can his sexiness win him this French woman?
"Vouz habite a' Paris?" and smiling she nods
 " Oui...a' Paris, a' Belleville..un quartier de Paris!"
and the gigolo continues, " Un bel androit!"
" Beau garcon,, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...
est loin dici? And Alessandro excitedly replied,"
" Ce ne'st pas loin!"... and with a sign laguage,
he pointed to his red Ferrari, ready to steal her away! 


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci

Translation:

Mademoiselle, parle vous Francais?"/ Young lady, do you speak French?

Tu es  tres belle/ You are beautiful

Vouz habite a' Paris?/ Do you live in Paris?

Qui...a' Paris, a' Belleville...un quartier de Paris!/
Here...in Paris, in Belleville...a quarter in Paris!/

Un bel androit!/ A beautiful place

Beau garcon, est-ce que La Fontana di Trevi...est loin dici?/
Pretty boy, where's the Trevi Fountain...is it far?

Ce ne'st pas loin/ not too far


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THE REDWOOD TREES IN MY FOREST

On a dusty and narrow path dwarfed by the enormous
redwood trees, which have conquered all of the soft-blue sky;
I walk and I'm astonished by the tallest of them all! 
Winter has left and the snows begin to melt away, to invite a lovely butterfly
to perch on wildflowers like aspens and mountain daisies swaying at the foothill;
and right beyond them, granite cliffs gloriously shine like those
northern mountains' peaks dabbed with spring snow;
oh, yesterday they were invisible to the blinking eye!



I stroll underneath groves of sequoia and white fir, and see myself really small;
and these giant trees encircling me, will lament how they shiver when they're cold,
and sad when battered by the storm; how they'll strive for lack of space and sunlight,
but wildfires may cause destruction and leave this forest barren and arid! I fix my glance
upward, and I start spinning and whirling in the stylish manner of an experienced dancer,
and they spin along with me, in a soft crescendo, never falling down with an awkward thud!  
I continue walking and admiring the majestic view of a creation, too inspiring and sublime,
which was hidden from these very eyes...to make their discovery more exciting and fun!



Who hasn't seen the redwood trees in my forest? Come along and satisfy your curiousity;
these trees have more stories to tell more than a victorious warrior galloping his horse away;
and for decades, they have seen greedy hands cut them down without regard or mercy...
depleting nature of its internal richness, and when it rains, floods corrode its terrain!
Imagine what the earth will become without any of these, adorning it with a variety of colors;
look closer, some of them are covered with thick lichen, others show a cinnamon, 
hard bark, so protect Nature with your best ability and be rewarded with amazing results!
A forest, which displays its wild and natural beauty, is a treasure like my redwood trees!    

Entered in Constance La France's contest, "A walk to remember" 

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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I'm Just What Your Looking For

since the year of 1952 the city of st paul Minnesota holds
their annual treasure hunt the king and queen of snows
goes out to a city park and hides a medallion worth
10,000 dollars if you are the winner and your carnaville
button is register with the st paul pioneer press
which gives out 12 cryptic clues and this little medallion
could be wrapped in just about anything from diapers to cookies 
and the frigid weather here just may make you want to just
stay by the fireplace and sip on hot coco with family and friends
even lucky finder gets to ride along with the king and queen of snow
in the closing ceremony of it's torchlight parade
also watch out for the vulcans krewe for they like to dethrone the king
and leave you with a black smudges across your sweet cheeks





Tribute To The Winter Carnaville
BURRRRRRRRRRR LOL

Carnaville runs
Jan 21-31 

Also Entry For
Carolyn Devonshire's
Christmas In Your Town Contest


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Rhymed Narrative-CAMELLIAS FOR AMELIA

She is a widow, never wanting to marry again, never defiling her vows, 
her five children have moved to other parts of the United States;
and they seldom visit her, except on the very special season of Christmas,
when she adorns her home with garlands and lights to honor the Child Jesus...



Her name is Amelia, a petite lady from Andalusia,whose passion is writing poems,    
and her Spanish accent is somewhat heavy, but the words are clear and precise;
on long summer's nights she speaks of her native land...meadows covered with camellias, 
and tells tales of Columbus and the Conquistadors with feathered helmets...



She was quite beautiful in her younger days, daises in her dark, lustruos hair, 
and sea-colored eyes that resembled the Mediterranean Sea, which brought her nostalgia;
and she often wore a folklorist costume of stripes of bright orange and yellow like her flag,
and now she's confined to a wheelchair looking sad...who has camellias for Amelia?



This past spring I planted a dozen of camellias plants in the empty and barren lawn,
hoping they would bloom when she would stare at the huge Atlantic Ocean;
and with eyes as sharp as a youngster, Amelia would see her beloved Spain, 
and those lush meadows covered with camellias to bring her bitter-sweet pain. 
   


In the quite hours of an early August' morning, Amelia rose to say her prayers,
and with the rosary in her devoted hands, she peaked outside and surprisingly smiled;
a beautiful garden of camellias appearing in front of her joyous eyes... she was so delighted,
but she couldn't go outside and caress them, but thought to herself, " Someone cares! "


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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The Hurricane

The hurricane, so viscous, so violent!
Yes, it must rain.
This force is behind, 
This force beyond!
Yet, finally it came.
The winds, clever and dangerously rough,
Please measure this poll.
Dark clouds consume the heavenly skies, capturing ones soul.
With a love so hard, yet, a love much too cold!
Our world now spins, hopeless and out of control!
You are you and I am me,
Together, our climates capture and debate this Sea.
These winds are too strong, our sky so dark and dim.
Stricken with fear, too afraid to release what is deep within.
The storm is here, so grab onto your soul! 
Yet, beware! This one is fearless and this one we share.
Scream its name and it shall cry its love,
For it be you, far beyond the heavens above!
Hold your strength with a grip so tight,
That storm will surely break, so where’s your fight?
This hurricane can surely hold its own.
Our little world can and will be shown.
Our damage is as our damage does,
Surely this tiny world isn’t our just and only cause!
You hold that thought and forever we shall be,
True love bound and forbidden to set itself free,
Held within you and deep within me,
This love was meant forever, 
One day this you shall see!
This hurricane loves, yet, 
It wills to hate,
The forbidden fruit conquered by its very own fate.
Give your seeds, but stand your ground. 
Forever in this world!
For once we shall not be lost, but found.            

®Registered: Ann Rich 1997                                           


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Satire-AN UNAMOROUS SENTIMENT

Hopper's painted a sober couple
with an unamorous sentiment;
two lovers with faces too distant,
with hands not touching, not feeling...
just being realistic and sensible,
reflecting on a tomorrow that was coming.
 


The exterior colors are of a depressing dark,
and the interior ones are mixed with bright
ones...with an ivory tone consuming their sober faces;
why are they staring into nothingness, sensing sadness?
We can't feel what they feel, or hear what they hear,
but their thoughtfulness is as intense as the evening' whisper. 



Theirs was an era when Elvis was the undisputed king,
and his music was played on an old-fashioned record player;
perhaps his blues were the ones they loved to sing,
but the pretty boy from Tennessee was much younger and happier than they ever were,
not wearing a blue t-shirt, brown slacks and a classic hairdo,
and he rode in his red Chrevolet with a style that was envied by everyone in Hollywood. 



Hopper's theme should have been much livelier than this,
not as morose as his summer's evening melancholic portrait;
and who could judge him for expressing himself in a such way?
Perhaps it was a realistic scene he had experienced with his fiancee,
observe the artist's rendition of the unpleasant mood he was in...
and shouldn't have he painted it with a more intimate and amorous sentiment?


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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RAIN FALLING IN OCTOBER

It's so mild in the quite suburbs
with rain falling in October,
and unable to sleep, I face 
insomnia for certain;
rain, keep on falling and let me hear
that steady, pelting sound on
the closed windows....a melody for
the saddest song should be written.


I must choose the right mood,
a minor scale to match this melancholy,
and a slow tempo growing into a crescendo,
and I could even throw in a scherzo;
and transport it with a C Major to smooth
some sadness out of the melody,
which tomorrow somebody
will hum, or whistle by learning the easy tune.


Hoping this song will be a hit,
thanks to the falling rain 
in October for the sudden inspiration...
when I couldn't think of anything else!
Wishing the rain would stop at six,
so I could see the rising sun across
the eastern sky and listen to the lark
that built his nest under my windowsill.


It's past sunrise, and the shimmering clouds hesitate to leave,
and with nothing to look forward to... I must believe
that the rain falling in October, 
can teach me the game of solitaire;
and pinned against my warm pillow,
I don't have anything to share but sorrow!
Flap your wide wings, friendly lark and repeat my song,
note by note; and without a lead sheet, I can't play it for very long...


Copyright by Andrew Crisci


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Flow of Nature and Reality

Over the horizon I see the sun as bright as always.
I can see the sea were the sun touches it.
The line that divides two worlds you can see clearly.
The suns image of fantasy and beauty relies on imaginations.
The sea water glimmers as the sun skims the light on it.
In the reflection there shows life twinkling just right.
The movement of the sea water flows endlessly.
It brushes against a solid object in the distance.
Large boulders weathered in time were blocking the waves.
Then I realized how unstable our world is compare to nature.


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Crossing of the Red Sea

Moses raised his rod,
As God told Him to do.
The Red Sea suddenly parted
For the children of Israel to walk through.
The great walls of water
Stayed on either side by God’s power,
Until all His people crossed
Then the waters began to lower.

Pharaoh’s army followed them
Into the sea so deep.
So when the waters lowered
Many a widow did weep.
All drowned by God’s power
Not a trace to be found.
The Israelites praised God;
The desert echoed the sound.

The crossing of the Red Sea—
A type of water baptism.
For the chosen of God
Were shown great favoritism.
Saved from the Passover
And then the Red Sea depths,
How could they turn to idols—
God loved them at such lengths?

Maybe we’re no different,
Often take God for granted
Accept His daily miracles
No eternal life coveted.
Remember the Red Sea crossing—
God’s care for His wayward children.
Ask for His forgiveness;
Graciously accept His loving pardon.

Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2008-2011
www.maureenlefanue.com


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Ripples in the Sea

When I see this Moon and gaze deep into the stars,
My mind wanders as I search for where you are.
Looking up, looking down, this enormous Sea is where I can now be found.
Standing alone at the Ocean’s edge and hearing its roar,
My heart pounds and aches for so much more.
Gazing deeper and deeper out into this vast blue Sea,
I can gather myself with this soul that was given to me.
Ripples in the Sea are all that my eyes can see.
One by one they collide with force to touch what was given to me.
Infinity with the depths of this Sea, 
This is what the Moonlit Ocean conveys to the truth inside of me.
Standing alone and afar from the depths of this Sea,
Ripple by ripple captures the every breath that I have inside of me.
Oh how they carry every single thought away from the insides of me!
Reflections of our Moon spread across this glimmering Sea.
Endless and endless ripples!
This vision I know I will forever see!
I hold my breath and carry a true smile, 
Searching for that last ripple to reach its hundredth mile.
Alone I stand at the edge of this Sea, 
The depth of this Ocean covers over me.
I wonder and wonder can I truly hold what was given to me?
So if ever in search for that which you know you believe,
Please remember that I left me standing with the ripples in the Sea.
One by one they collide crashing directly into me.
I stand with a force that was given just for this person that lives inside of me.
Come to me! Please touch what is on the inside of me!
Feel what has been given just for the love of me!
So if ever in doubt for that which you truly know you believe,
Look deeper and deeper out into this incredible huge Sea.
The ripples one by one know you will believe.
They touch, they feel, they hear what is left standing out by the Sea,
And that my friend is the life that God had already chosen for the soul that lives inside of me.
 


Details | Narrative | |

The Cliffs

High tide brings death to those trapped on the rocky beach
The steep and sharp cliff harbors beauty and certain destruction,
A history of demise for ship and soul has been told through the legends
Of folk lore, it is said that the waves lull a man into hypnotic serenity.
Peace and safety sweep over a mind and then the cliffs have their game.
The lonesome call of the dolphin and shore birds beckon me...
Return to the cliffs, find your true passion of life; you are safe here.
Come you weary, find your rest and contentment...
The waves spray a fine sea mist into the air, the air seems cleaner and fresher
than any other place on earth. Sea creatures roam freely, across the sand unafraid of 
my human prescence in their domain. Waiting for the chance of a decomposing meal
offered by the cliffs violent beating on my person. The cliff is the mother of the 
shoreline, protecting her creatures and providing the meals.
The brave play games, tempting the cliffs with their very lives. I will walk away 
today, choosing to respect the cliffs power and the legends lore.


Details | Narrative | |

THE FIRST BLIZZARD

Snow is falling heavily by the minute
from the whitest sky, which yesterday...
had me fooled for a perfect spring day.
Fall, pretty and fluffy snowflakes, fall...
floating and gracefully coming down
on the frozen hollies with empty nests.
The breath-taking snowy spectacle
can make one fantasize and dream...
oh, I'm dreaming by feeling the chill!
Little sparrows searching for shelter,
don't brave the dangerous blizzard...
step inside quickly and keep warm.
Driving in snow and ice is very hazardous,
I'm staying home and listen to the forecast...
it won't get any better as the day progresses.  
How much snow will fall, I cannot predict,
and the weather man is as puzzled as I am...
it would be embarassing to be wrong again.
Sweet, hot chocolate and lemon tea are my choices,
to prevent chills from entering these unwilling bones...
before venturing outside and shovel plenty of snow. 


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


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APRIL DECORATES NATURE

April decorates Nature
with snowy festivity...
to resemble a season so wintry;
will the unwelcome snow head for the shore?

The very disappointed skies gleam unpleasantly,
and the saturated earth weeps in agony;
who commanded the wrath of the tempest...
when winter supposed to be laid to rest?

The snow's showers cover the budding hills
quicker than the gelid rain of winter;
far and away...hope is illusory and brief,
and the questioning mind deflects its early coming!
Does this season have a late beginning,
or is it caused by an unknown factor?

April has smothered winter and hasn't protected
the trees, flowers and plants from frost;
almost everything has perished in its ferocious course,
and the desperate farmer deplores an harvest so scarce!

Inside is so cozy and warm, the gusty wind
is heard through the fireplace that retains the heat
of the crackling logs underneath;
some folks cherish moments like these!

April decorates Nature
quite beautifully and impressively;
brutally or unfairly...
it becomes an inevitable rapture!


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The Night of the Moon

It's the night of the moon
and though it's not in my sight.
The magic will be here soon.
The full moon takes the stage tonight.

I feel as low as the tide. 
The dark clouds set the tone.
Watching waves and sand collide.
I walk the beach all alone.

The clouds are fighting the sun.
They can't keep the bright light behind.
Sunset and beauty become one.
Doubt and hope crowd my mind.

Brilliant hues of orange,pink,and red
contrasting with clouds dark and gray
The sun paints a picture before bed
and then takes the painting away.

Splashing way out there in the sea.
Winking stars playfully laughing out loud.
I wonder,how this can be?
The night wont carry a cloud.

Where have all the clouds gone?
They've been plucked out of the sky.
The battle with the sun was been won.
I question not how, only why?

There's a bright glow in the west.
The curtain goes up for the show.
Dancing lights on the water are next.
Slowly rising the moon seems to grow.

Sometimes it's such a spiritual thing.
When nature reveals what it can truly do.
I can almost hear this moon sing.
So extravagant, it must be alive too.

My memory goes back to a time.
When the moon stole the show like this. 
I was with a girl that was so fine
and remembered that,that night we kissed.

But my memories are what had me down. 
I can't remember too many good.
There was the clouds at sundown
and suddenly I understood.

If I only kept good thoughts in my minds eye
and make all the bad ones just finish.
Maybe then my thoughts wont seem to magnify
what my memory can't seem to diminish.

Out with the bad thoughts in with the new. 
I'll fill my head with good memories only. 
But it seems that there are so few
that my thoughts might just get lonely.

That makes a smile come to my lips
and I wonder, did I just laugh out loud?
I watch enchanted as the moon slips
across the sky without a cloud.

My mood has changed I realize.
I knew I felt that pull.
Now I know hope never dies.
Hope lives in a moon this full.


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Tis The Season

As the children calmly sleep, snow begins to fall on this quiet Christmas eve. 
Mom and dad slowly find there way down the hall to pear in on the children all 
nestled tightly in there beds. Soon after mom and dad would retire to the front 
room 
by the fire. Mom with her book and dad with his paper. They too soon would drift 
of into dream land. They all would dream of Christmases from yesteryear, here 
and now, and the future. Soon the anticipation would soon pass for another 
Christmas has come and gone. But don't you worry it soon will return with all it's 
shimmering lights, love, and laughter. And always remember tis the season.


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The Ill-Fated Lighthouse

Author’s Introduction - A word about Minot’s Ledge Lighthouse: 

The Minot’s Ledge lighthouse, built 1850, lying off the southeastern chop of 
Boston Bay, was the first lighthouse built in the U. S. that was not protected by 
exposure to the fury of ocean storms. It was, then unfinished, in the shape of an 
egg-shell painted red and supported by iron pillars. The first keeper, Isaac 
Dunham, quit after 10 months citing how unsafe the structure was (swaying 2 
feet in each direction in a storm). His fears were well founded, for in April 1851, a 
colossal storm struck the New England coast. The lighthouse was toppled and 
swept away, and the two attendants, Joseph Antoine and Joseph Wilson, were 
killed. 

The following day only a few bent pilings were found on the rock. This tragedy set 
the standard for the construction of more solid structures using granite blocks for 
greater support and a new light was built by June, 1860. 

To this day, legend has it, that in dark and stormy weather, sailors hear a voice 
coming from Minot’s Light crying in Portuguese (the nationality of one of the 
deceased keepers – Joseph Antoine) – “Stay away!” 


The Ill-Fated Lighthouse 

The towering light that threw 
Its friendly beams afar 
Over the foaming waves, 
The sailor’s guiding star, 
Is quench’d – and darkness glooms 
Where late it bless’d his sight, 
As homeward bound he came 
In the dark hour of night. 

The thundering surges swept 
Over the rocky bed, 
From which the lighthouse rear’d 
Aloft its flaming head. 
And lo! They bore away 
In that mad fearful hour, 
The work that man had made – 
The tempest’s rightful dower 

And yet a richer freight 
The heaving billows bore, 
Than wreck of perished Light! 
For tossing to the shore 
The drench’d and lifeless forms 
Of youthful dead there were, 
Two brave and manly hearts 
That sadly perish’d there! 

Farewell ye faithful ones! 
Your memory shall live, 
While feeling hearts remain, 
Pity’s sweet drops to give, 
Or any to recount 
The terrors of that night, 
When the drear sea engulf’d 
The hapless beacon light. 

And you, ye rushing waves! 
Sweep – foaming, sweep along, 
And ever as ye go, 
Lift high your noisy song; 
For thou, remorseless sea! 
Maketh all things thine own! 
Then send aloft your tune, 
And madly thunder on. 


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My Boat


I am building a boat.
Full of dreams.
Glossy wood and caulked seams.
Figure head, sharp bow.
Cutting the waves, like a plough.
Generous beam, shaped like a dream.
Sheer, such beauty never seen.
The hull, like the female form.
Handles any storm.
Billowing white sails overhead.
Across the sky, around my head.
The wind, a driving force.
Keeping me on course.
Deck awash with foam and spray.
Seagulls screaming as they play.
Waves crashing on the shore.
With a mighty roar.
Hear the song of the sea.
It's calling me.

Comments.
I have always had a boat.
And love the sea.
I was in the British Royal Navy.
As  a medic during WWar 2.
And also the Merchant Navy.
Sailed my yacht "Tango"
All over Europe.
This is the first boat I have built.
Made of ply and resin.
A kit from an American boat firm.
Which I can recommend.








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The Pillar

Currents of chaos
Battering battering my fragile ports
Steady flow of tidal constance
Fluid life and yet 
I drown silently
A water sogged pillar
I steady the pier and hold true
Against the undercurrents and crashing waves
Briney depths beckon and call
Shifting drifting sandy murk
Dances at my feet
Upturned, my face to the sun
But that is not my place
Shadowy cool caressing fingers
Urge me downward
For the waves are my lullaby and 
They call me home


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SUMMER IS ENDING QUICKLY

Those sweaty and uncomfotable days
seem to have lost their intensity,
and glancing far into infinity
can be done with more clarity;
storms are much rarer to stike
and fling their lightinings
to warn us or cause some fright,
when we wish to see a rainbow so bright....

Summer is ending quickly,
but the slowly-moving sail-boats 
aren't anchored in the quite harbor:
they're sailing safely
on calm waters,where no ship 
is ever brought down!
I'm reluctant to leave so suddenly,
and not contemplate the sea-bed 
as flourescent as light,
when I passionately write
another poignant poem
 which won't be lost to oblivion...

Some of us seek only leisure,
I seek a relation with creation...
not doubting who made it
and if controversy intervenes, 
I look deeper into persuasion:
there'll be no thought left
unobscured or unexpressed before intuition;
and you should be amazingly glad to hear...
uttered words that are not silenzed like secrets,
if attribution is not there!   

Summer is ending quickly through dismay...
as blazing days discern their shortness,
but the dazzled and flamboyant swams stare
and tranquilly float soutth-wards of the solemn bay;
what I enjoy now,can be retold or relived
through the poems of other poets,
mine are still waiting to be discovered...
to be claimed without much fanfare!
   


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WINDY BAY

For the past three days,a torrid summer 
scorched the windy bay
with an intense heat that
discolored the lustrous,wild grass;  
even my light skin is turning dark,
resembling a blood-hungry gladiator
who fights for one reason only:
to earn freedom or die
in the arena where
people recite no prayer...  

A feeble father and a robust son
pull out of the flowing and glimmering water
the fishing canes wriggling in hazy air; 
this narrow beach adjacent  to a lovely town,
is the safest haven for birds fearing captivity 
and some traveled quite a distance
to find it without resistence or compromise;
my birds aren't found in a confined cage,
because they have never been subjected to rage...
they fly between sky and sea!  

Ruddy,bare-chested men
standing on a roaring yacht,
as the parching heat
from the middle-sky's sun, 
makes sweat flow from their skin's pores;
they ignore the inabriated teens
dancing to a heavy-metal beat 
while they throw pices of meat
to a barking canine 
that has seen nothing
but skeletons of shell-fish,
realizing his desperate wish!   




Details | Narrative | |

WHILE THE POET DREAMS

The golden leaves fall off
the cherry trees groping 
on the steep cliff,
the tall marabous lament...diving
in dark, shallow waters 
their racous cry announce
the arrival of winter on the reef... 
while the poet dreams!

The lost kite has flown off
a kid's hand that waves to its friend,
shrikes wait on pines' brenches
for their prey to impal on thorns;
wagtails stand on rocks
being watchful and trustless of them,
living in danger is not staying alive...
while the poet dreams!

The jumping mouse scurrs
from scrub to scrub crushing their leaves, 
as daylight haunts his footsteps;
food is scarce by the waterfront,
so he scampers back to the underground,
to return when everything turns dark
and finds no one endagering his search...
while the poets dreams!  

The blind,white-haired man is led
by a retriever that's so attentive,  
as he guides him to an empty bench;  
he can't see or perceive a fall's sunset:
like other cheerful eyes bedazzled by light...
while the poet dreams!