~Moon & Sea~
Hey boy won't you open that door?
Let's sing and walk by the shore
Come and spread out your eyes
Block looking for reasons, and whys?
The cosmos are more than a space to explore
Don't hide when I need.... Plus more.
Finish playing a master in disguise!
Lets find the perfect sunrise, sunset surprise.
Put your arms around me
Allow your moon to reflect off my sea
Too much time has passed you by
Come outside with and view the horizon up high
I've got my eyes set upon you
There's no need to feel blue
Hey boy comes, climb up this tree!
I'm going to show you all the things you can't touch, you can't see.
Lets fit the luxury and beauty of this world into our play.
Don't say them words that will set me free to walk away.
Take this kiss and see how it feel deep within your heart.
Close your eyes in my garden, and draw with the fragrance of art
I want to take you into that space, astronomy love.
Making it easy to float with the clouds way up above.
Glide away from the blame of gravity and self destruct.
Bounce of the dust of hurt when you fall and get cut.
Boy, let's hold in this perfect air together.
Leave the cold end of someone else's weather.
Follow me beyond the distance of chemistry.
I will expose your moon and explain the physics of my sea.
Give it another chance and you will see!
Your moon, is skin deep, needing water from me.
Turn on the tune in your heart, and listen to me.
In every sunrise, the moon entwines with the sea.
Fog settles on the tombstones. In the dark, an eerie blue,
the graveyard is a misty ocean Raven passes through.
She stops. The solitary site is grim, devoid of sound.
Her long black gown, a ruffled slip, is satin sweeping ground.
Her sable locks lie smooth and straight across her graceful back.
Stark contrast is her alabaster skin to hair pitch-black.
This woman - with a beauty that forever captivates -
now stands, a pistol in her hand, and there steadfastly waits.
Since told the man that she adores (who left some time ago)
lies buried here, the woman’s come, for Raven has to know!
She can’t believe that he could be here in this place of doom.
He’d left for war before they’d barely been a bride and groom.
As Raven looks out on the sea of mist, her eyes have teared
because those birds that bear her name have suddenly appeared.
A sign it has to be, she thinks. The ravens drawing near
are circling above one stone. Her heart is seized with fear.
Now Raven walks to where the birds are circling above.
She pales. . . The stone she’s reading bears the name of her true love.
The fog, a sea engulfing all, has swallowed Raven too.
Gun raised, she drops down to his grave; she knows what she must do.
First posted 1/15/2011
Now revised for the Contest of Giorgio A.V: Structured Forms -Iambic Verse:
Recite and Analyze a fictional event - 32 lines max. Top Gun poetry.
This is done with rhyming couplets using Iambic Heptameter
One summer day, enraptured by the Goddess Sea,
King Sun shone down with all his might; most splendidly
he moved the Goddess, for she rippled laughingly
a shimmering reply to Sun in azure sky,
and while reflecting that same hue where King Sun dwelt,
her turquoise ripples lengthened, for the goddess felt
herself now rising up with joy. Wave after wave
was leaping, frothing. . . as King Sun more strongly gave
his final rays to her. Then he descended low
that he might kiss the lovely Sea on earth below -
to kiss her soon before the last day’s shadows fell,
and so he touched her where she’d let her body swell.
With yellow gold, his final glow, he bathed her face,
but when the night arrived with sable colored lace
to drape the goddess, Sun had vanished from all sight;
below Sea’s depth he’d sunk - to love her through the night.
For Suz's "Let's Be Open" poetry contest and now for
PD's Anything Goes Contest
I dream of the past and days on the high seas
With no one to answer to and no one to please
Yearning for the freedom that I once knew
With the sails set and a sea of blue
Dream of the islands and her beautiful eyes
For the taste of her lips my heart still cries
Once a pirate who sailed with the wind
Now only memories that I rescind
I look at the past in the afterglow
Wondering where does an old pirate go
Time has carved deeply the lines on my face
Settling down feels so out of place
Longing to return to that tropical lagoon
Where I once held her beneath a Caribbean moon
Young brash and arrogant, I sailed away
Never said good bye, I still see her each day
My heart beats a tune that has me undone
Until the day I sail toward that tropical sun
Thinking back and missing her so
Wondering where does an old pirate go.
As the never world awaits me,
The lord darkness, his cloak now draped.
Haunting images that appear in dreams,
Invade the subconscious, till again I wake
Complative thoughts well before the dawn,
I walk the morning shore,
How many have stood on these same sands,
Reflecting the echoes of those no more.
And still the waves they pound the shore,
Relentless in their quest,
As they crash on the rocks with deafly roar,
White tipped and foaming zest.
Dawn breaks with gilded cotton clouds,
Waiting like courtiers to their king.
Gathering round the sovereign sun,
Bestowing his warmth on everything.
Would that life compare to the shore,
All worries get washed away.
Cares thrown to the four winds,
As on my knees I pray
© N A Windle 2009
A ship is safe in the harbor,
But that's not what ships are built for.
Because in the sum of our human gleams,
We have created the vessel for our dreams.
Its purpose: to retrieve the alien shore,
To scout, seek, achieve and explore.
A ship is meant to fly and fly,
To seize the horizon and capture the sky.
And the few of us with the intrepidity,
To brave the virulent vortex velocity
We are the wealthiest of men ever to dream
And ever to combat a sea or a stream.
And the harbored ships that fritter away,
Slowly begin to rot and decay.
Never has there been a greater waste of a day,
Than that spent harbored,
Than those of us who stay.
Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope
My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans
Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure
Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir
Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile
Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame
The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees
(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace". I hope that it does not insult
I lay me on the grassy lawn
And watch the stars, they're floating on
While one comes out from round the eaves
Across the sky another leaves
The sky is slowly shifting round
So different stars are always found
The dipper turns just like a clock
Without a sound of tick or tock
It turns about that central star
That guides the sailors from afar
While with it sails Queen Cassie's throne
And all the constellations known
Tonight's a clear and peaceful night
The moon is gone, the stars are bright
I slowly drift to seas of dreams
Alights with pinprick starlit streams
I'm thinking all the charming while
With placid face and hinting smile
That when I wake in early morn
Some different stars will be reborn
The pendulum motions to and fro,
From the clock upon the wall.
As the second ebb like grains of sand,
For one by one they fall.
Through the window of the dim lit room,
For outside, lies a world of grey,
For thoughts now turn to yester year,
That seems so far away.
With freckle on skin and golden hair,
Topped with lace like bonnet fair.
Upon a face a smile of glee,
As little feet splash in the sea.
A bucket clenched in fingers tight,
With spade to match its colors bright.
In awe and wonder of many things,
Through eyes so young that new life brings.
N Windle. MMXI.
The lake is a plate of evening blue
Here where mists of dew sprinkle the view
Under lilting skies the undulating sea
Stretches far beyond infinity
Silent and calm, no hint of green
Smooth as silk with translucent sheen
Rippling blue as far as fingers can see
Yet when the moon’s luminosity
Fondles the surface where the wavelets flow
Twinkling jewels are dew-pearls’ glow
To easels of moonbeams on a crystal sea
How incredibly beautiful this vignette can be...
For Brian Strand's Image Theme Contest/ 2 to 14 Lines
By nette onclaud
Two impish girls by a ridge of the sea
frolicked with wavelets lapping merrily
as pink buckets swayed, in each little hand
where clusters of moistened grains polished the sand
bedecking castles on bright August skies;
mermaids we dressed in ferns waiting to dry.
Patty and I guarded the moats from the bad trolls
with candles on gates as swooshing tides cajoled;
a vignette we held in deep friendship’s mind
when crests besieged our kingdom, how unkind
as we fought the tides with shovels dug around,
our legs standing firm to parry the roaring mound.
But on our twelfth year, she caught a fever;
Patty grew hazy, our beach empty right where
all sandcastles dissolved from red to gray
and no more turrets to chisel away .
Now, summers without pails are a memory
of two impish girls, on ridge of the sea.
Memories of The Sea: Isaiah Zerbst’s Contest
Water droplets become liquid pearls, delicately balanced on milky white petals
Crowning gems sparkling jewels mist under lashes gleam
The beautiful white yellow sunlight all visible wavelengths of light refraction
Fluttering a rainbow promise under the bridge colors bright
The goddess of fertility, wealth and comfort her name Dana-Ana
A crowning beauty sings whom stands in every dream
Sitting on deep rocks a treasure who combs every feeling
Sea cradled her and she heard Neptune whisper .... so beautiful you are
With golden glowing fingers of emotions held captivated in her rays
Filled with warm love when evening shadows and stars turns out in the sky
Written by L. Mcdaid & A-L Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
John chapter 15 verse 12---
This is my commandment,
That ye love one another, as I have loved you.
There’s a wee Kirk overlooking the sea
Lowly and humble but special to me.
Inside is the font where I was baptized
The aisle where I walked with joy in my eyes
The altar we faced when making our vows
With God watching o’er us, then as of now
The brilliant stained windows to Peter and Paul
Shedding their light of peace over all
There in the nave a white marble plaque
Honouring the ones who never came back
But of all of these pleasures that I want to share
Is the presence of love that waits for one there.
Contest: The Church by the Ocean
Sponsor: Constance ~ My Dear Heart ~
Written by : Margaret Foster Sept 26th 2011
I look across the windswept canyons, see the blazing trees.
A gold and russet ocean swells beneath the autumn breeze.
It surges as the highest tide to reach the mountain tops.
An endless wave of beauty rushing on, it never stops.
And in the sky of tangerine, its gulls are birds that glide
across this sea of fantasy into the eventide.
The disappearing flock of geese and waning sun imbue
nostalgia that engulfs the soul enraptured by the view.
My valley home, like ocean’s strip of shore, now calls to me,
a voyager who must depart from gilded mountain sea.
The sea churned heavy in the wake of rolling,ripping thunder.
As rain cascaded from the skies the vessel was pulled under.
The winds were shrieking as the sailors ran to clutch the sails.
Into the night could now be heard those far off deathly wails.
Another man went over every time the dark sea burned.
When suddenly there was a light just where the storm had turned.
Within the light is where these beautiful creatures now emerged.
Half woman and half fish they swam right where the waters surged.
The men were frightened yet enthralled by their amazing beauty.
As one by one they lost their heads forgotten was their duty.
The creatures wrapped the men within their long and tangled hair.
And slowly every sailor was drawn into their seaweed lair.
As the storm raged on the creatures took the men below
to their deep home within the tides and this much we do know.
The shipmates never were seen again-they called them lost at sea.
But the creatures say they took the men so they could set them free.
for contest "Fantasy"
Crisp Autumn seeps through the day
Dew balances a fresh cut blade
Tangerine skies seethe God's Grace
Summer's vehment blaze...replaced
Slipping sweetness around my pillow
Cool winds dance with weeping willow
Stars twinkle down through thick dense trees
As spirits dance in fresh Autumn's breeze
Sail most by south, by west the least,
until the moon sets in the east.
There, in a sea the hue of custard,
ye'll see the Ile de Deux Sans Mustard
where locals speak like buccaneers,
calling you ‘me dirrr' and us ‘me dirrrrs'.
Their pirate accent's quite inexorable
though, than ours, their grammar more is flexible.
They appear to verge on being mammalian
a little bit like South Australians
(I'd never in the name of mirth
deride the folks who come from Perth) .
Hard left, first manatee you see,
or right, your choice, you're free as me
(it's nix to do with politics,
a pox on all elected plicks) .
Sail till the sea turns sweetest violet
and there you'll spot the cutest islet
(had we to rhyme with ‘sweetest red',
it'd be a continent instead) .
Here, when poetry is long dismembered,
lies the place of rhyme remembered.
Yes, you have come upon a land
that any poet would think is grand.
Where almost everybody aint
any kind of ffffflamin' saint
but seldom use the worst of curses,
when they converse in freeish verses,
or communicate in playful rhymes,
pretty well whenever they feel like it.
A deep dark grief,
stolen your loved, that hateful thief.
Away from here that soul did depart,
away from us, away from the heart.
That feeling of barren and cold,
when a loss be there, truth be told.
A lifetime to live, does it take,
a second to die, yor breath will break
No count, on what will be,
the next minute is planned by thee
No words, of what to explain,
that numbness, of that sad pain.
Undefined it so is, of are every breath
at the end, is only death.
A deep dark grief,
stolen your loved, that hateful thief.
The old Queen is losing her glorious crown
Her glittering diamond tiara is going down
In its prime, it shone golden, now yellowing
See the crimson ball, getting soft, mellowing.
Splashing colors in my sky, huge ball of paint
Once scorching, now calm and pensive as a saint!
As you release the long day deep in the blue sea
A vibrant, livid twilight canvas, create for us to see
Other side of this enchanting horizon, resting you may be
Giving us the shimmering night spread, peace for mine and me!
From his pocket
on the beach she knew so well,
In his eyes the moon
where had he been?
and not alone.........
on his skin an aura
from the sea....
scales of silver...
one two three.........
clutched there in his
the mermaid left him
on dry land.
Nature’s Single Dad’s
THE LEAFY SEA DRAGON
Gracefully swaying without need for speed
Are creatures of beauty, disguised as seaweed.
Up to twelve inches long from tail to snout
These delicate creatures just drift about.
They carry, as they move like galleons in sail,
Silk-like appendages, leafy and pale
On back spines, projecting as masts on a ship
Sailing the oceans, they rise and they dip,
To the rhythm of moon tides; full or neap,
They travel the seas; these Dragons of the Deep.
Through weed-covered reefs and meadows of sea grass
There’s neither a neigh nor a moo as they pass.
They resemble sea horses in flowing silk gowns
Drifting on rhythms, dancing up and then down.
They slow dance through the water just moving around
No fire, no flames from these dragons; not a sound.
The mother will lay two hundred eggs on Dad’s patch
Of soft sponge, where safely they’ll hatch.
The sun flashes golden as she drifts on by,
While in the shadow on his tail, his offspring lie.
This single Dad of the deep tends a new generation,
Of Leafy Sea Dragon eggs; a fascinating creation.
Less than one inch when first hatched from the eggs
As newly formed babies; ready for life without legs.
They drift as if they feed, gaining the silky covered bone
To a length of twelve inches by the time they’re full grown.
The cycles of the moon dictate the rhythms and motion
Of this Leafy Sea Dragon in the great Southern Ocean.
The Leafy Sea Dragon is just one of Natures' Single Dads worthy of a mention for the survival of the species.
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
Forth he went upon the sea
grizzled and tough as he could be.
But when the old salt came to shore
he'd look for Jenny Lynn some more.
She was lost from him for years;
he'd shed a bucket of bitter tears.
Dreaming of the day they'd meet
the old man had a heart so sweet.
Someday he would find his daughter.
Till then he'd spend life on the water.
for "Sweet and Salty" contest
Since the 19th century, she stands looking out to sea
A guardian of the sailor, a survivor of tragedy
The Captain lost his pregnant wife and son and five members of his crew
Now she waits just like her sister when a sailor's return is overdue
Her sister stands in Moss since nineteen sixty two
They stand and face each other across the ocean blue
The Dictator, a Norwegian vessel, aground she did run
Nine people died off the shore in eighteen ninety one
The Captain returned to Norway when his healing was done
In Elmwood cemetery he sadly left his wife and son
On thirty seventh street in Virginia Beach the Norwegian Lady Stands
A monument to all who sail and walk on foreign sands
Swelling tide billows in with ultimate force,
insulting bronze sandy shoreline on its course.
Tossing creatures about in brine water home,
mixing, churning into a white frothy foam.
Against blue horizon velvet waters peer to merge,
illusion vanishes with every sea wavelet surge.
Eyes search far beyond azure ocean so vast,
replicates placidity recently glassed….
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
They pollute our waters, the land, the air
They pollute the planet without a care
They kill our friends from down below
As they swim up to say hello
They build weapons to kill each other
They don't respect each race or colour
They try to hunt us in every way
But they cannot find our hideaway
We'll never surface because we fear
We cannot trust the humans here
by Ana Espinola Collins
I am holding my hands over my eyes,
I want to listen to what sound resides.
I can hear the waves beating on the ground.
The slow rhythm of each wave as it pounds.
The squawk of a bird, I can hear far away.
Soft whispers, as the wind has something to say.
I settle back on the ground to listen.
On the warm ground I purr like a kitten.
The warmth I feel from the sun on my face.
Thoughts are roaming through time and through space.
I have a peace of mind it’s hard to explain.
Like the coolest water from a short summer rain.
My body settles down so softly in this land.
I’m lying upon a bed of petals in the sand.
- For Upon A Bed Of Petals contest
His praises are upon my lips and shall forever be
what He has done for me some will never see.
The breath of life He breathed into me
made me His for all eternity.
Life He created and placed on Earth
some have dragged in the dirt.
The raging sea which gave other the cold chill
He commanded by stating, "Peace Be Still!"
the hungry gathering multitude
He fed with five fish and loaves with loving gratitude.
At the wedding of Canaan He turned water into wine
many drank and thought it was just fine.
He walked upon a deep sea with blue water
which some may have tried thereafter.
To the blind He gave their sight
they praised His name and made things right.
Many rushed to touch His garment
for their actions He rendered unto them an achievement.
Those who were lame and unable to walk
He touched and they stood up and talked.
His words were His bond and awakened many people
today His words are heard from buildings with steeples.
His love brought everlasting life unto many
one may even call it the light of an epiphany.
His grace saved the souls of many going astray
being saved by His grace they knelt down and started to pray.
His loving touch felt like a soothing and healing balm
many upon feeling His soft hand their hearts became calm.
He stood still and commanded, "Lazarus Come Forth!"
those who were present witnessed an awesome rebirth.
On the eyes of a blind man He rubbed clay
he received his sight and praised Him all day.
He was and still is the Savior and Miracle Worker
unto many souls He is forever their Caretaker!
© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., 8/8/09
© All Rights Reserved
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
The sirens and mermaids
called up from the deep,
untangled mesh nets
blithely held out by sleep.
There the first to emerge
were the sighs and the nods,
they sank then resurfaced
in clear Morphean pods.
I found myself wandering
on a wide stretch of beach.
My mind squeezed like a lemon,
my thoughts fuzzed like a peach.
When the sheet of fog lifted,
I walked through the haze,
what’d been transfixed by the night
now transformed into day.
Bands of green kelp
had encircled my feet.
Sand dollars tossed out
from the wallets of seas.
The tang in the air
by the water and brine,
awoke to my senses
other days hazed by time.
Sunk then in a sinkhole;
my heart now clanged a bell!
I was no longer an oyster
in a barnacled shell.
I kicked off the seaweed,
splashed through the shoreline,
feeling refreshingly freed
from that soul ravaged time.
I knew I’d still wonder
about Calamity Clam.
Had he hid from the onslaught,
become a sea star’s sea ham?
Ouf…no longer my problem,
I was no agent by rights.
Then I stepped on an object
and, out went the lights!
I hopped in frustration
with great hurt I did bow.
I bellowed out pain
like an angry sea cow.
With one mighty scoop
he was constained in my hand.
How to dispose of the despicable?
I felt seared by a brand.
Covertly I gazed
at this nemesis of fear.
Then I gave a smart tug
to his mossy green beard.
The thoughts that I harbored
were not of my decree.
I hurled him out, with three skips,
he sank back into the sea.
Strong wind howling from the east
Invading collars and cuffs.
Waves explode like roaring beasts
Of white frothy foaming tufts
Seagulls battle gusting drafts
Eyes ever on the water.
Warning code for small sea crafts
Of twenty foot or shorter.
Small boats being tossed like tops
In danger of capsizing.
Running lights like micro dots
Strafe streaks on the horizon.
Bows dip down into the waves
As they disappear from sight
Then reappear as if to bathe
In the cold grey morning light