Froth and foam, time and tide...
Ah, the motion of the ocean.
‘Tis the source of my heart's longing,
The place of my soul's belonging,
With it's push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
As time and space go rambling on...
At your shores, the same time and space
Your maker and mine exalted...
By your push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
At times I find myself longing,
To become one with you,
And your knowing of life's beginnings,
Both old and new...
And the days and years of all your learnings.
To find myself wrapped up,
In your fathomless embrace,
In all the ways you have kissed me,
With the currents of your passion…
Your endless days, the mystical fashion,
Of your push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
Yet how shall I fathom,
Your unending endlessness?
And how shall I counter,
Your impartial fury?
Most certain am I that it will bury,
All that is and leave no trace,
Of that which is and was to come.
For man who is blind, sees only your wealth,
And not wholly that,
But that which he deems
Till you, left naked and raped, rise...
To reprove us, to open our eyes.
Only then do we see,
T'was meant to be,
That you, and I and we,
Are made as one.
And as to you, unto us is done.
Thus to us is done for sure,
Till blindly stumbling we find this cure:
That those who shall possess you,
Shall do in setting you free.
And to them is your grace,
To them is your passion,
The depths of your soul and the endless fashion,
Of your timeless, enduring mystery.
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What we Read, is Where we Go...
Mother Ocean please
Send me waves of such beauty
I need Therapy
Dedicated to my Dad on Father's Day 2013
The man who introduced me to the ocean and educated me about it and gave me reason to love appreciate and respect it.
Oh mother Africa cradle of civilization
like the great trees of our green oceans
you protect your young from this great gale
from east, north, south, west but mostly west
it comes with a force first gentle then strong then stronger
from leaf to stem it sways the oceans
steering our waters to unright directions
it brings it's sand from far away and takes our leaves to far away.
Oh mother Africa cradle of civilization
land of fruits milk and honey
groom your young in your own way
let them know it's not for sale
our dignity, pride and values
but how do you cushion a dying man
how do you relieve a man running after a setting sun
a drowning man will clench a straw
if this he thinks will stay afloat
young shoots find no space to blossom
even in this spacy forest
is this our fault or it it's fault
that seedlings readily embrace the gale
they know the wrath it all entails
but this they say is better than the dark.
Oh corner trees of iroko type
give space for the young to grow
their roots will firm their stems will broad
and this ocean green will stay agreen
heed my advice and pave the way
for if these things are not done in time
your young will continue to embrace the gale
and this ocean green will go brown some day.
There's this girl that I know who misses her home
The place filled with laughter, her joy, and her hope.
This girl, she is sad, and I've seen her heart break.
She just doesn't belong here, and she doesn't want to stay.
When she's at the beach she just sits and she stares
Across the water to who knows where.
The ocean is the one place she has found on this Earth
That fills her with any kind of peace and hope.
Though still she is sad, she's not where she belongs,
But at least at the ocean the fierce homesickness calms.
She'll walk down the beach and look out at the water,
Totally uncaring of those who might watch her.
She knows she's not normal, that she isn't like them.
But she knows that they cold never understand.
This girl that I speak of, how I know her well. Yet at the same time I hardly know her at all.
It seems to me as I walk down that beach that
I'm never gonna know of who I truly speak.
Because as long as I'm here, so far from my home, my heart, my pain there, my hope,
I am only half here.
I am only half home.
And all that I want....I just want to go home.
Why in the World?
I asked myself,
"Why in the world did God create earthquakes and tsunamis?
There is such devastation, tragedy, lost lives, horrific suffering.
And then, I knew.
Long ago, before man populated the earth,
Before men developed metropolitan areas upon the ocean shore,
When mother earth was free to ebb and flow, free to grow.
There were seasons and tides, rotations and revolutions.
Her face was painted in different shades as time progressed.
Upheavals and uplifting, subuctions and cooling took place.
Eons saw her crust and mantel strengthened, altered…recycled.
The ocean waters rinsed the shores rhythmically.
The moon reined its beauty upon the nights and sands drifted.
Pulsating waves washed the shore…cleansing and eroding.
Crushes of elements sank to her ocean floor.
The shore rejoiced in its newness…for a while.
But balance is a key to restoration, a function of recycling.
She quivers; the earth quakes; the ocean regurgitates upon the shore.
Tsunamis return upon the land that which had been washed away.
Regaining equilibrium within the earth’s core.
Forcefully, volatile, crushing, engulfing, and renewing.
Long ago, before man populated the earth, it served her well.
Earthquakes and tsunamis were a blessing to the planet.
A natural renewal process maintaining balances purposefully.
Fulfilling a function…like a hurricane or a tornado.
Perspectives changed when man spread around the earth.
Civilizations developed; populations increased.
Man built upon Mother Nature’s shores to enjoy her beauty.
But the moon still reined her forces.
And the need for balance amid life cycles remained.
Freely we are given that which can be quickly removed.
Our souls cry out for understanding of that which must be.
Balance amid all things: atoms, cells, bodies, systems, planets,
© March 13, 2011
I write this poem from my heart
As I set off on my fresh new start
A woman of the age of nineteen
Leaving her family for this American dream
With just this napkin and worn out ink
I rest this night under Gods eyes and think
Of all that I am leaving behind
To make sure my little boy and I will be just fine
The ticket cost more than we could afford
But while the captain said "all aboard"
I knew it was my last chance to truly live
And have a chance to someday give
These little hands the ability to play
Lord give us strength is what I pray
From nine to two im committed to dine
On deck with musical fingers that chime
Then again at six for dinner time
Seriate this ship while they enjoy evening wine
Though they will make money off me
My only song and melody
Will sound across the ocean floor
Free at last my wings shall finally soar
And when he’s older he will understand
A mother’s love and faithful hands
Directed his destiny to new borders
While voyaging on still waters
When he’s grown he will know no lack
For all his wealth will be in tact
I end this write until part two
My payment now I must pursue,
Day three on this exquisite sea
The people have been quite nice to me
They house me and my angel all for free
While I keep playing so eloquently
I know we will soon be there
A man offered us to stay in his care
All if I will teach his wife
To dance on zebra keys with abundent life
The lavish life I can plainly see
Never again will we feel pity,
Why are people screaming upstairs?
Ill finish my line for down here I’m unaware
This poem I keep sown in his pocket
For my son you will look back and it will be your cherished locket...
I sit here and look at all my land,
I wish for a moment I was still in your hands,
Dear mother you sacrificed your life for me,
That night our ship of dreams lost its identity,
Now grown and wise,
With your gental green eyes,
This piece of you is all I got,
As I write, my stomach is in knots,
Even though I was only two,
I remember all that you went through,
Wrapping me in a little tote,
Slipping me in that safety boat,
For many had to stay on deck,
While the ocean engulfed that wreck,
And only the rich could really survive,
Dear mother I was your wealth that’s how you kept me alive,
You have never left my sleeves,
I keep your words sown as part of me,
I know that you’re playing For God and all his angelic bliss
I end this journal entry with a cherished kiss.
By; Sabina Nicole
Birthdays come but once a year
A day we celebrate, a day to cheer
We all know the day we're born and our age
For birthdays bring us joy or change of stage
The day I celebrated my fourty-ninth year
On the other side of the world fear
Horror for a young girl named Heather
Who was swimming in ocean waters from boat tethered
Swimming around the ocean deep
Working up an appetitate for something to eat
Was a great white shark fourteen feet, whopper
Jaws powerful enough to bite through copper
At home I thought I had turned fifty
I figured this year would be very nifty
My father who was in his nineties
Reminded me that I was only fourty-ninty
In a land way down yonder
A girl named Heather was pulled under
Great white figured she was good meat
Nice and tender a very tasty treat
A girl named Heather was saved
That very day lived to be one to praise
People who worked to keep her alive
She praised God who lives in hearts and on high
Sara lived many years
Saw her grandsons through tears
She was the strength and glue
Who saw her family's problems through
Just in recent years in a land down under
A fourteen foot great white shark did blunder
Caught in a fisherman's net
He'll probably live this mistake regret
No, the fisherman cuts the lines
Frees his catch and shark from bind
Now the shark he named Cindy
Follows him around even when windy
Follows him everywhere he goes
Let's him pet her on her nose
Rub her belly and dorsal fin
She even grunts and tries to grin
Which of these do you think is the most grateful
Heather who is now disable
The shark who was spared his life
Or Sara the mother, grandmother, and wife
(The story about Heather is true. The shark circled and bit her right leg. Then circled and
grabbed her left leg. The people on the boat were hitting the shark and try to pull her into
the boat and the shark took her whole left leg off. She was only attended by a nurse who
was on the boat and radioed a doctor on shore as to what to do. She was 20 hours away
from the nearest doctor. She was lifeflighted to a hospital in California where she had to
have multiple surgeries and now has an artificial leg. The story about the shark caught in
a fisherman's net was really not true. The grandmother here was a true story.)
Freedom before my lost brother
They march before the rising sun with guns at six
We stand before sun down with signs of freedom
Who really marches to the same drum?
When my hand have been blown off for beat
The beat, the beat, the beat
As he races from the explosion of freedom in his chest
To escape this tide of hate
That swept us slaves of red, white and blue
And he is nothing like before when hate took him away
He is a man at six and we are still children as adult
War took my hands and feet I am no solider
I fight for freedom not money
You fight so this tide will not cross-oceans and sands
We fight here for food and light
And light, to breathe, to die for family
Across the ocean hand my son an ak-47
And he will march and kneel before God for forgiveness
Hand my brother a ruger and he will stand in the shadows for American greed
Greed in the land of freedom and hope, black in the shadows
And mother can mend wounds here across the oceans she can only dial
Mother over there must know how to be doctor and surgeon, and warrior for the
Generation to survive, to live
We cannot procreate; we are the ends of mankind
With bombs in the hands of babies
To extend our left hand of hate across the ocean, across towers of hope
We must all be the same here a million mile from each other
My skin dictates that I hate, be hated, I rape, be raped
I bleed red, white and blue
Watching in shock, disbelief as red, white and blue goes up in flames in the
Ashes of the wind just like you
Freedom can never come to me here before her with that torch
My mother across the ocean must be sending me a package of death to kill my
Your four father because my complexion means that no one can see me
I am a lost brother, forgotten sister
Hated child with no hands, no hands in freedom
March me before television cameras, signs of peace, and words of love
I am still a lost brother............ before truth
But you knoe me so well..
From the the same box that caused my cousins in your land to be hung
Money means nothing here, Money means every thing beside her with the torch
Pass it to me so I may freedom---the truth
Mama! Mama! Mama! Oh mama!
In love you clothed me.
In hunger you feed me.
When rain fall you cover me.
In sun you shade me.
Your song of life inspires my feeling.
I grew in your deep sense of feelings for me,
and sung in your well of affection.
I slept in your prayers.
And wake everyday in your love.
With love your rainfall,
causing a deep ocean of encouragement.
I am lost in your love for me,
and found in your desires for my excellence.
Mama! I know your wish for me.
And what you want me become.
I believe in your ocean full of encouragement,
and sunk by your showers of motivations.
What more do I need from you Mama?
What more? Thank you Mama. Thank you.
But just wait! Wait! Just wait!
And see what you have made me become.
The Ocean Foam
When mother and seas are one,
The ocean's foam cries.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
1/ 5/ 2008