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Prose Poetry Sea Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Sea

These Prose Poetry Sea poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Sea. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Sea poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

Last memory

Bathed by the ocean blue 
There came a thought…
And it was solely of you.
How you’d dance across the night sky
With palms and the waves, waving good bye
With hopes and lights
All lost and wandering the night
Not at all lost…
But not at all found
I’ve wandered these towns…
I’ve wandered these thoughts,
Where has the time gone by?
No longer you dance…
No longer you play…
Just sit there in the sand
By the oceans nice bay
Dream with me tonight
Dream with me of all the things we once would do
Come back to life…
Just once…
Dance with me one last time
Beside the oceans blue
Come back to life…
Give me one last memory of you


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mist Rising

As I sit alone on this rocky shore. The mist rises around my feet and I long for much, much 
more. Just to go out to sea and meet the horizon just you and me in our blazon. To feel the 
salt water as we sail away to enjoy the beauty of this day in this very protected bay.  To kiss 
the rose of early bright.  Maybe stay way into the night and see the moon and billions of 
stars. Reach up and touch the loving God.  The one who made you for me and made the sea 
and misty shores that consumes all my lonely and tiresome chores.


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Sand Castles

Upon a beach I came to stand
And watched a child at play. 
He did while playing in the sand
A point of life convey. 

With scoops and buckets he did build 
A structure tall and grand. 
And to the child the beach did yield 
A castle made of sand. 

But as he left, I do recall, 
Away I did not turn. 
And with the coming night would fall
A lesson to be learned. 

The tide came in, with force did strike, 
The castle could not stand. 
And I was shown how life is like
A castle made of sand. 

And man is but a child at play, 
His works they will not last. 
For all he builds within days
Shall be by time surpassed. 

Each thing we do, Each thing we say, 
Each notion we conceive,
They all to soon shall pass away, 
Yes, this I do believe. 

We leave no mark, we leave no trace
That shall forever stand 
Be sure my friend time will erase
Our days however grand.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sunsets and Journeys

Poem about beautiful sunsets and the journey of life.

Spent all day walking on the beautiful powdery white beach. Picking
up oceans treasures, scallop shells calico in colors rich and diverse,
conch, coral, cockel, Sand dollar, sea biscuit, lightning welk, snell shells
of every kind. Ocean breakers emerald crashing and rumbling up onto
the porcelain beach. Wade out let it splash all over me so cooling and
refreshing along with ocean breeze. Splash on the face I lick it off,
exquisitely salty. sand Pipers skiddering along, Pelicans and sea gulls
in the indigo sky catching my eye. Such beautiful things my spirit uplifted.
Sun now kissing the ocean in an explosion of colors. I sit down
 to take it all in. Orange, scarlet, green, violet, purple, amber,
 gold, emerald, jasper, amathyst, amber, alibaster and every
 hue inbetween. A glorious feastfor the eye and mind
 to put at ease. Dark now as the golden moon
takes it's Majasties place. What a simply wonderful day.
Giving sigh it's over I could do this forever. Time to go back to my home
in Arkansas. We have beautiful sunsets there as well. Beautiful mountains,
streams, forests, springs, caves, clear lakes await for me to revisit.
The air is clean with a fragrant scent, purple, yellow, orange, lavender,
azure, indigo, cardinal, porcalin, pink and more colors than I can
describe wild flowers frow. Clear blue rivers rush with white roaring 
rapids to float, forests of emerald abundant to explore. Mountains 
treacherous to scale, Hot springs to sooth and heal both body and 
spirit. Diamonds to find, red, champagne, blue, sparkling enchanting 
exquisite. Crystals bound in the mines near the healing hot springs,
amythest, garnets, water crystals, rubies and jasper in georgeous
colors crafted into rings, bracelets, pendants, watch bands and so
many more elegant things. I may never get to return to the beloved 
beaches again in my life, but I still have all these wonderous things
in My Natural Arkansas. However if I am fortunate enough to return to 
the glorious oceans and beaches, I will once again enjoy the treasures,
pleasures, sunsets  to behold so bold and vibrant, more wonderful
memories if it comes to pass. one never knows for certain what lays
ahead down lifes path so onward we go and enjoy each blessing
that the Lord has prepared to us to see. Hopefully we will learn on
this journey to love, care for and share with each other.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

STORMS CLOUDS

                                      STORMS   DON’T ALWAYS LAST 
	
 Shipwrecked, my ship destined for destruction
 As I sailed across the ocean, storm waves beat against me 
Destined for destruction, destined for disaster
Moments of despair, silenced with fear, I tremble
My heart raced with beat of uncertainty	
Never would I imagine that this day would come 
Waters  surrounds ,  and engulfed me 
My ship continued on a course I have never experienced before
This time for sure I thought I would die 
While I sat there praying that the storm would soon be over 
Tears streams down my eyes as I battled to reach the seashore
I was lost and afraid  ,sure to sink,  lost my anchor  
Then in wink of a moment everything felt  quiet
I rush hastily  to the deck just to make sure ,it was then i realized
Suddenly the rain stopped, the thunder stop rolling 
The wind was calmed, the sea was silent 
As I gazed across I could see land for sure
It was then I recognized  that even though I go through the storms of life  
Storms  clouds always  pass.







Details | Prose Poetry | |

Siren's Song

I long for the open sea while gentle waves call to me in my sleep
Dreams of salt air and a boundless horizon
No words ride the night, yet I hear her song and know her voice.

Stand I here at waters' edge while the moon bids her rise to greet me
To embrace her as she beckons me to follow
To become one with her, or perish in the striving

Marooned, here I stand on this island in the sun
Afraid to plunge into the depths, I am rooted…captive
Denying myself passage to that distant horizon

O happy tide, would that I were as free to leave


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Healing Touch

There is a certain healing touch
     in ocean waves, the powerful progression of unending undulations, white caps           crashing with determination, dancing with destiny.

There is a certain healing touch
     as the salty strike of ocean air sends serenity and touches all my senses.

There is a certain healing touch
     when the cooling spray from of sea water washes with its’ wetness and soothes           my heated soul.

There is a certain healing touch
     in the silencing and slowing of footsteps as they try to run in sand.

There is a certain healing touch
     in being moved by innocence of children and the sandcastles they command.

Sitting near the surf, I watch the roll of ocean waves, soak up the strike of salty air, am washed by cooling waters, listen for the sound of footsteps in the sand, and am moved by the innocence of children in their play.

{em>PS contest: "Impress me with a small poem"   Nature  © Sue k Green

I feel healing from all five fingers of their touch.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Memory

MEMORY

In the city,
The sun often wears a veil of grey mourning,
Woven of smog and dust.

In the evening,
The stars retreat from the lights
Of the city far below.

Far from the city, 
I walk the beach, sun hot on my skin.
Waves wash cool and white over my feet.

Seagulls dive and snatch,
The remains of the fisherman’ catch
And the kite glides and falls like a stone to earth.

The sea rolls on and in.
An endless murmur,
Through the days and the nights.

My eyes, accustomed to this light
Of sky, of sand, of dry bush land.
Watch the sails of a lone boat.

And I think of many things, as I walk along this beach.
And as always my thoughts return to you.
You with eyes the colour of the sky.

I wonder where you are in the city
So far away from my world, from your world,
Of sea and sand.

I think of you and the distance in between us.
Distance that as time has passed,
Has grown too far to breach.

I know this, but still I think of you,
As I retrace my footprints,
In the dampness of the sand.

JM  2012



Details | Prose Poetry | |

A MIND IN THE NIGHT

I stood in the middle of the ocean's palm and travelled along its' finger lines.
These blue waves have stolen the infinity of sky, reflecting my fate signs.
In my heart there is a blank, as I am left alone struggling with a sea unknown.
If you could show me your eyes, I would place your hopes in stars to find height.
Instead, I am burned in fires shaken, in sweaty dreams that end with the first light.
In other words I search for promises, changing places and opening new doors.
Yet, this sea of rain rushes into my expectations, driving me to the same shores.
And I am wondering if life owes us our prayers, our tears, our sentiments of glory.
If not, then we are condemned to expect a fate, a Spring belated to show a fake story.
When nights exceed the dead ends I set, moon is risen laughing at my mortality.
In the cold breeze I face my humanity, fighting in a battle uneven and unfair.
As time passes through my windows, I betray my existence behind curtains flopped.
Eyes of solitude I can't forget visit me between Heaven's and Hell's Gates blocked.
I set fire to my pain and from the ashes I give birth to a fate, in which you are not in.
The greatest dreams I left behind, a compromise I signed and gained the right of sin.
Uncovered distances, chaos in my heart rhyme
For the losses I won't accept as my fear prime.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Nature's Fury

Wildly the gale blows over the turbulent ocean
whipping up the waves into towering mountains
that crash down shattering everything in their path
screaming out at the world, hostile and venomous

Nothing in its path stood a chance not from this devil storm 
it raged onwards now a hurricane leaving devastation behind
huge waves rushing inland uprooting all as they past through
swelling back briefly, then thundering on, oblivious to the damage

Huge trees, hundreds of years old lie dying, flooding everywhere
slowly the angry winds abate, becoming gentle like lover's touch
caressing kissing as if to say sorry for all the damage and strife
quiet for a while until once again the seas war dragons re-awake

Setting forth on another battle royal, not a care for what is left behind
just terrible life changing damage as Mother Nature roars out her rage
plundering us and what we hold most dear to gain her  deadly  revenge 
by cutting us down to size using all her fearsome  powers to teach us

No master doth Nature have to tell her nay, futile to try to stop her
she rages on destroying as she passes, no way to harness this goddess 
earthquakes, tremors, volcano's; all these and much more at her command
she will not cease not until we learn to respect her and nurture her planet



Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Rising Son

                                      Son of the Sea Trilogy Part 2 (copyright 1989)
                                      by:Allen Hacket
                            

                                      The Rising Son 
                                      Dedicated to: The Slauson Village


On a hot summers night lovers lay along the beachfront
Caressing each other so gently as the amber coals in the sandpits slowly melt away
The waves rise and tumult with such majestic force and beauty splashing against the shoreline relentlessly
Infinite as time itself and ever constant.
The pulsation of the conga drum permeates every pebble and grain of sand on the beach
The tinkle and the rat-a-tat-tat of empty bottles and discarded tin cans are transformed into precise percussion instruments
The melodic shrills of the magic flute weave it's translucent web encompassing the gritty growls and riffs that emanate from the golden mouth of the improvisational sounding sax

The dance has begun...slender black bodies glisten in the soft moonlight...jerking and gyrating in perfect rhythm to the beat of the drum
The sweet aroma of herbs fills the night air and wine flows freely
Emotions are high and love abounds
The music reaches a crescendo and comes to a gradual halt
A long awaited sigh of relief can be heard then solitude follows...
Dawn ushers in the distant light 
Destined to radiate its warmth and shine in the new day of the rising son.


Check out our library of e-books @ amazon.com in the kindle store, or visit:www.booktango.com
authors website:apluszips.com
 
Thanks


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Birth of Thanksgiving

Back in the year 1621...
Began a tradition, for everyone...
It started with fleeing from religious persecution...
As a group from England sought a solution...
They landed in Holland, but to their demise...
Which after a while brought quite a surprise...
Found their children attached to the ways of the Dutch...
And by their standards, considered frivolous and such...
Threating education and morality...
Which was the original reason why they did flee...
They set sail again, all one-hundred and ten...
Young and the old, women and men...
Where they were going, no one knew...
Not even the Captain nor his crew...
On a large wooden ship , they sailed out to sea...
And for sixty-five days, not all did agree...
So after landing, a meeting was held...
The name “Pilgrim “ was chosen, and no one quelled...
Winter was devastating, so many died...
And of the one-hundred and ten , only fifty survived...
On March of 1621...two Indians appeared...
They both spoke English, so no one feared...
Samoset and Squanto taught them trapping, hunting and planting of corn...
So the next years’ winter, they would all be well fed and warm... 
On the fourth Thursday of November, before the snow fell...
The Pilgrims and Indians, or so I hear tell...
Sat down to a feast fit for a king...
On this the first of a “ Thanksgiving “...



Details | Prose Poetry | |

Journey to Africa as seen by an eight year old

My journey through life has seen so much
far have I traveled and much I have done
seen so many things that most others never do
the rock of Gibraltar, with teems of scary monkeys
traveling out we sailed through the Suez canal 
wondrous mysteries that delighted an eight year old
camels striding along, enormous crocs floating by
the land so close you want to touch it and run on it 
Zanzibar our next port of call, ram shackled boats galore
the heady scents of spices abounds teasing the nostrils
the vivid different colors everywhere flood my senses
on to our destination Dar-es-Salaam harbor most picturesque
a miss mash of ships some luxury most tramp ships or boats
sails of all colors, dark people unloading trunks from the holds 
this was a time taken out of time, a way of life quite relaxed
just think of the things ahead,  the adventures that awaited me

written 08/08/2013

contest    Your Journey

in 1958 the Suez canal was open later it got blocked by sunk ships


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Autumn Filigree

The gray haze of autumnal fog drenches the leave-strewn grass. Trance-like, lain within the wet air, like babies breath, the leaves fall. A soft, damp, blanket of gold, filigree, edges the green cloak of the Mother, Her garb lays adorned with a pointed patterns of earthly stars. Warmed so, by the abundance of her children; caressed by the love of the Father, beloved, the Mother yawns.... stirring the leaves, yet again, the leaves arise.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

fortress

in my fortress by the sea 
I ponder thoughts washing over me 
under the moon, tide’s ebb and flow 
do I stay or shall I go? 

one by one the answers come 
just enough to keep me numb 
giving what you think I need 
some of the truth will make me bleed 

like driftwood washed upon my beach 
footsteps left, etched very deep 
no wind can me them disappear 
always present, always clear 

I sit in a very tall tower 
looking down on what aspires 
growing like the ivy leaves 
intricate the vine that weaves 

the sun comes up and warms the sand 
in this never never land 
is this love that glows with day? 
why does night bring doubt my way? 

in this fortress by the sea 
I ponder thoughts washing over me 
under the moon, tide’s ebb and flow 
can I stay, or do I go?


Details | Prose Poetry | |

WinterBane

WinterBane 
WinterBane 
 
Soltive pre ordained priest warlike additives initially a Jesus Freak becoming cold 
hearted in the winter. Bane has come with hatred of simple minded people. Sexual 
orientation is nill. Macabration indentation on the quilt. A welcome matt with a towel 
for spills. I have a small fortune tied. Up is not an option now. There is only snow up 
there eventually. The water line is nearer the river then the streaming stream of 
water near me on the highway catching all the melting riverlets as they run away 
from home in WinterBane. Some men still have strength but they abuse it think to 
break down boarded ruins tearing down old barns and cornors of old abandoned 
houses where homeless and poor people might find shelter from the rain. Where will 
they find to dwell. Because of wealth they have a large area to heat in WinterBane 
they have a larger of a structure the more expensive in the WinterBane with sleet 
coming down in Sheets of Ice looked like a solid wall of water hitting me Frost icing 
clothing no thing was DRY ice all over me a few moments after I stepped toe out of 
sheltor walking on the SIDE of the road cant walk on the roadway slipping on the ICE 
stepped offroad walking in the treelined. I found what looked like a Najavo Hogan 
brogaded outside there was clothes hannging on branches a Babylon Garden in the 
snow. While the whole city was whited out at degrees zero. The goose has a liver. 
Oh Pâté the liver rules the Goose is cooked with too many alcholic incumbents while 
the minutes of the meeting Read all old activity reported long ago nothing is new 
under the sun. Nothing there is nothing is there nothing in my past has preparred me 
for my future education has failed me for the alcholic eye was ruined for functioning 
in SOciety degenerate reborne. Nothing smelles worse to a man then sex mixed up 
with tobacco and alchohol how can anyone live as porn objects and still survive the 
toll booth smells like whiskey before three pee em it takes the heart to control it 
takes the lust to want. I feared to die for I was sinnor I feared one day to lay 
underneathe the snow ensheathed but then one day has come to eye EYE Fear No 
Snow EYE Fear No Snow I am a man. The snow no longer bothers me. I am beneath 
it all, My soul is not inside of me. It leaves me when I fall. As I lay here 
silently,wating for the trumpet, It will blow! 
I do not any longer fear the snow. 
Copyright © 2006 charles hice


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Once Promising Youth

Like you are caught in a highway 
Heavy traffic in a sunny morning 
Waiting and hoping and dreaming
You’ll reach the seashore soon enough 
See the light shimmering on the Sea waves.
Like a person hoping for good news
Dreams give the Sloth hour two wings.

No, not like the feeling of that 
Being surrounded by fellow men
With understanding.

No, no hope, no dream, no nothing.

Rather like being caught in a highway 
Under the will of someone you cannot see
Under the whim of someone you cannot ask
Under the wish of someone who understands
What you don’t understand and that you understand not.
Too many question you ask I see.
Questions makes you bleak-heart

Yes you are Caught in a highway 
Under the scorching sun. 
Shining on the highway  
Highway endless like a tongue of an unknown giant 
Whose wistfulness only makes you move
And may be if He wishes when He wishes
You are signaled to move.

You’ll reach the sea at last may be,
To watch it with your bleak heart.
Only to find the sea that you can
See no more 
Because the dreamless waiting has made you blind
Only darkness mingle with Death of the Sky 
And Sun and Time and You, the Once Promising Youth.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Portrait of a Water Lady and I

 
There she is, rainbow hued, hazy viewed clues.
The whistle chimed waves clear her unspoken throat.
Pardon Lady's wispy tension, a molder of falling sand. 
A maker of details form the reality of dreamlife.
It is not man-made, it's spirit. 
From one withheld, on a roof full of heating. 
It's the heart vision, it's her only heart vision, 
The only seer of the whole. 
The sea dragon's bucket of snails
make it through the tunnel portal,
and we all gather through.
There Lady then goes, 
off to the Wizard's shell. He's cloaked in 
red and white, the colors of woman and man.
They're both pleading, seething,
 kneeling beside the shelled faces.
 Sparks, that near cover her wreathed, flowered, dress of sea flowers.
As iridescent pyramid easter eggs rain down.
Armored in bright lace, the rhythms of twirls and braids shall 
claim pertinence to the deep blue whale's song, the whale clothed
in water, salt, and Lady's most hidden dreams.
A Wizard Whale's Lady, protected with beauty.
Zero point with no ego, no confession to claim.
The breathed memory between her salty fingers
lights a candle to rebirth her soul. 
Hello my little fellow,
long lost pearly weeping willow,
I've come to find my ocean.  
My voice adorned with sight.
I flew to and from her, a maker of undone.
She was veiled in white memory, 
a blanket of weight brushed off her.
A flaming moment floating in her watery hoping heart. 
Sunk under sun drenched waters,
 gazed shackles flew away.
Exceeding through three door frames,
not separate from the grey portrait of a sculpture.
Tightly knit and finely tuned,
 with heavy chisels of confirmation. 
I will spit if I have to, and then I will cry after.
For I will only listen to my bloody heart.
The emotions are blatant, the tuned in 
question that purge's forth, 
is more meaningful with an identity gone.
But we are never lost,
we are dreaming in the ocean's Wingdom,
the Angel's castle cloud held tight.
Love, 
Alyssa Couture


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Titanic The Unsinkable Ship

What people believed in 1912.
Was a myth in the truth, placed on a shelf.
Was the unthinkable, unsinkable..
The fourty six thousand gross tons of steal.
Would never kneel or break its bow.
The ship could never sink or rust.
Was rumor going round, we all could trust.
The crowd showd up to celebrate.
As the ship was Christened to show its fate.
But The White Star Line was cruising fine.
When it hit a berg, under a darkened sky.
There it lie, with many to cry.
At the bottom of the sea she'll die.
They said the Titanic could never sink.
Their opinion a myth, now she's on the brink.
With fourty six thousand gross tons of steal.
The voyagers finished their final meal.
To the bottom of the ocean they went.
A many to cry, while she made her descent.
The Titanic was a ship in trouble.
But now a myth, and a pile of rubble.
At the bottom's where she made her grave.
A sigh of relief, for the lives they saved.
To the rescue, and on the double.
Titanic was a ship in trouble..
Her maiden voyage, now turn the page.
Thousand of people, in a fit of rage.
The news it read that we all should mourn.
The Titanic's passengers, their lives were torn.
A myth of truth placed in the news.
The unsinkable ship..Would never lose.

Titanic-Poetry by Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 2009,2014..
ALL rights reserved.. 


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Temple Of Cinnamon Memories

The echoes~ 
from a haunting refrain 
     buried deep, 
within the many corridors 
    of her heart 
weave their tangled, worn threads 
    playing on her memories 
like the delicate, frayed strings 
   of a lonely violin.
 
Lingering whispers intricately 
   seek the depths to the labyrinth 
of her soul, creating a tapestry  
   of wild cinnamon roots and leaves.
 
Her wounds of torn and shattered illusions 
   roar their voices in her mind 
like a jungle of ethereal savagery 
   that clipped her silken dreams 
leaving her flying with broken wings.
 
         Then~ 
the tenderest of love came unto her 
   opening her eyes with magic rays 
that touched her spirit 
   with its fiery fingers of love 
opening her heart  
   to the rebirth of lost dreams. 
 
When his wings unfolded 
   he beckoned her to come 
             And ~ 
      She followed  




Anne P Murray
C@2011 LadeeAnne 











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Wayside Walk

Ocean gales and tidal shift
Pounding 
Basalt and sandstone mountains
Boulders 
Rocks tumble into pebbles
Mighty trees 
Uproot and splinter in Neptune's fury
Under my feet,  
Crumbled remains of life 
Ground to dust by the unrelenting ocean
Walking barefoot on tiny shards of glass


Details | Prose Poetry | |

128

 128 
128 
 
 
 
CharlaXFabels 
 
UnderwaterLover 

 I do love you Charlie Blue My brown eyed merman I kiss your hand Down by the 
sea Turn into me Eye love ewe fairest Ianthe just come there and drown me We 
live in caves Awash with waves Anemones our flowers We pass the hours 
Chasing turtle and fish Finding a lost kiss the hours at the sea make me weak in 
my human form my fins allow me to swim but only to your arms the legs eye use 
to walk allow me to be free but only fins can bring my back to ewe to kiss to 
drown the underwater lover there she is my mermaid playing me I do love you 
like the fish eye am used to better days sometimes sick and needing help yet I 
do love you the merman is so far away When eye drown in the desert cactus 
between the city and the mountain my mermaid kisses save me from the cretins 
she is fighting for my life eye can feel her call my namme Charlie Blue I do love 
you. Woman in the foamy waves 
swimming near to me, my love it comes. It is a heart, a mermaids heart. My 
brown eyed merman I do love you eye love to watch the shrim:Pe crawl across 
the ocean sea she feeds them to her strang pelican and water can be breathed 
by a Knight of drownded love. This was harder to do than it looks adding verses 
sent to me from she who loves the eye then reaching somewhere south to find 
the love to add the words to add our mixed and many feelings making this into 
this fabel. 


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Writers Tail liaT sretirW ehT

The Writers Tail liaT sretirW ehT
by Charles Robert Hice on Wednesday, November 28, 2012 at 12:22pm ·
The Writers Tail
the poor writer can not post a poem anywhere to be recognized himself as a poet unless he writes a longish Devels tail complete with hooks and forks and splitting hoofs and tines in tomes you realize these publishers drink large amounts of alcoholic beverages and seek people to turn down they love to see someone saying homeless poems the frown and then the delete button when will they come to some conclusion that the ether thinking is the faulty mind life is better lived poor and sober how can any one help others to be someone iff they are drunk feet upp on the ottoman ice clinking against the windows and the glasses always half full and half empty ready at any moment to delete all details of any poor peoples emails so you want to post in this magazine afraid knot click delete delete the extra page is missing the long appendage added on is gone they removed all of the appendix index we told you to send an attachment means a file a doc or a document eye tried to attach my soul to my heart but there just is no space is taken up one old woman no pets allowed someday every item that eye write will flash before my eye it will be broadcast on heavens wifi for all the angels there to read each dot and t is crossed there no time lost to read eye will post my items on the heavens wifi for all eternity you stupid people who cant publish me make photostatic copies of my work and glue them to the bottoms of your shoes and stomp them in the dirt you walk back and forth on your thrown rug down on the floor until you cannot see the words and then you toss them into doors threw cracks and howl with glee cause Johnny cannot read me YOU CARACKED MY READING GLASSES BROKE MY TEETH  AND MADE ME GASP FOR BREATH TO BREATHE now little Johnny cannot read. Three shoelaces to make two shoes how many feet does little Johhny use. This tale hath a tail like the INcan Comet of Destruction can you see it in the sky it will be there the day we die. HOT ROCKS FALLING FROM THE SKY the day before the world turned green and died. Here is the cannonical mathmatical equation now. Take the INfinite lights in the sky what they really seem to be and move them to the end of time try to see them falling down. Tumble to the sea my lasting problems will never get ahold of me to hurt me whan they tumble to the sea eye will be set free whan my lasting problems thay tumble to the sea


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sea

The sea sings its endless songs 
over the rocks.
The waves kiss like a soft rain
the beach in their way.
Red flowers of water 
are blooming in the storm.  
The sky  is  desperate
about the sun,
scorching the day with thousands candles.
But the sea sings its songs
of light and of hope.
The sea rises its voice,
cover the wet altars
between sand and vibrating air,
and a far distant horizon
captivates the ardent sky.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

English Garden

I have found the treasure
that lies at the Rainbow's end;
surrounded by Sweet William, for-get-me knots,
and crimson shades of velvet rose.

Near the cottage of old where I was young,
the quaint charm of the English garden.
Where time has not weathered with due harm,
swirls of hued asters still in the brisk fresh air.

Moments spent dancing with cupid in midst
of a sunny afternoon.
Seconds where dreams danced on the moon,
sweet perfume floats by to wisp away my breath.
Up ahead mine eyes view the grassy slopes
where a thousand of narcissus bloom.

I watch them sway the day away tossing 
their sweet perfume to the winds.
Wicker seats and ivory benches upon I sit and muse.
The soul cannot thrive in the absence of a garden,
a rose plot, fringed pool and serenity.

Burn the sage, the leaves of rose and wintergreen
Light the candles in the middle of the afternoon.
From within my center core I breathe for more of this
paradise near heavens view.

Sweet surrender to growing things, cupids chimes in
melody rings, for here is a heavenly peace that mirrors
my thirsty soul.


My x4 Great Grandmother was from England a Duchess but she chose to marry my X4 Great
Grandfather and lost her inheritance and rights for neglecting the wishes of the family in
England. He was a Captain of the sea and brought many to the American shores of Mass. In
reading and studying, I found she loved to write of the sea and those things she cherished
from England and growing up, from memoires, she has touched my muse and from time to time,
I let her speak of such cherished beautiful things.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Miskó Ki'zis (Red Sun)

I have been born to a red mother shigo red father
Underneath a massive cowboy hat
Beneath a weeping tree of willow tresses
Below the soft eyes of a red sun wilting
Submerged is my heart, my soul in red blood
And yet . . .

I have been born with the gift of a wabayshka voice
Carried on into the day by a rolling pen
Held tenderly throughout the evening 
Cupped quietly across the sea of darkened night
Hugged tightly inside the morning kiss on my red skin
And yet . . .

I have been born with cascading mukaday hair
Flowing brown eyes shaded with a breath of black
Falling lightly across my skin a whisper of browning 
Subsiding as brightly as yours is my smile that shines
Sighing inside with a quiet mind red as the twilight sun
And yet . . .

I have been born with a mind as white as snow
Within this world of yawning full splendid colour
Inside the glowed out gaze of Kooc-hum the watchful moon 
Amid a washing cast I have been swallowed 
Among a sea of wind hailed across the earth of my kindred kind so red
And yet . . .

My people still call me mishimin under my red stained tears


Details | Prose Poetry | |

shell

 
What purpose is there for a shell is it to provide protection for the littlest  creatures is it to be used as a quote for withdrawn children is it to hear the ocean and take it home does a shell make a turtle special was that the reason it could beat the hare in a race the symbolic means of a shell is to protect and even if you cant see you have your own little turtle shell thatll keep you safe and warm also if you listen really closely youll know the soothing sound of of the ocean a shell makes is just like the sound of your own heartbeat


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Sea Shells

We held sea shells 
To our ears
And sat for hours
Nestled in the warm sun
Watching the ocean

These days
The sea is far, far away
And only your memory
Walks the sandy beaches

But in the old park
So very far from the shore
I sometimes sit
Listening
To those shells

While 
Every so often
Amidst the sound
Of the waves rolling in
I could almost swear
It’s your voice I hear
Calling my name


Details | Prose Poetry | |

A ROYAL'S QUERULOUS DEBATE

The curtain slowly rises...the audience is spell-bound
by the appearance of royalty

Act 1, Scene 1

King Henry VIII: O adored wife, you never drew
another man to your breasts;
have I loved you more or less?

King Henry VIII: O voluptuous lips that have kissed mine,
when roses spurred to greatness,
is your trust in me flimsy or fortified?

Queens Katherine: Why are you asking me this,
beloved husband, if the promise
of that young virgin was more than true?
I have desired your strong arms around me,
to dispel my fears and doubts on many moonless and frightening nights...
when the northern wind ruthlessly entered in the chambers,
and blew out all the candles that were more aromatic than columbines!
O dearest love, which need I didn't provide you by touch? 

King Henry VIII: No, sweeheart everything you offered me,
but lust for another woman led me astray...
leaving your marital bed and sneaking away!

Queen Katherine: O dishonorable husband, what made you so unfaithful...
if I made you the vessel of these dreams,
to transport me on soft waves like cherubs' wings?  

King Henry VIII: Not enough passion in love-making, insensible wife...
permitting your guilt prevent the pleasure 
I sought in every embrace and intimate feeling,
to boost this amorous ego without ending!

Queen Katherine: How dare you say that, unmeritous husband...
while your attention was focused on a mistress?

King Henry VIII: How can you blame me, uncaring wife...
making me escape and causing me to cheat?

Queen Katherine: This marriage took place under the eyes of the  Almighty,
and you solemnly swore to honor me,
to love me, to strengthen me and to spend a lifetime
of joys, of hopes and sorrows through love and fidelity!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Of Waters

Mother of Waters
you're peace and tranquility;
how I long to be as free.

Oh Mother of Waters,
mighty! untroubled, and true!
change me to be just like you.

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

But who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say 
what commands your violence?

Sweet Mother of Waters
graceful, mystic, serene...
who can know what you have seen?

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

but who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say
what commands your violence?

Dear Mother of Waters,
great mirror of the dusk and the dawning...
calming, soothing, everlasting...
how I long to be as free!

Change me to be just as thee.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

It is Hard to Watch

Softest breezes carry delicious scents from a carpet of flowers weaved in the woods,
Bluebells bend as one, ripples in the oceans, they rise high then fall like the tide,
Watching this sea of flowers it is hard to accept the one you love will soon be gone,
A nightingale sees your sadness from his bough, his head cocked and sings a sad song.

It's hard to see flowered landscapes growing rich, your love smiles with sunken eyes,
Plum bloom falls in showers following the wind when your love is weak with suffering,
It's so very hard to smile and laugh, watching your love, as her skin hangs off bones,
It's so hard to look at the sea of bluebells knowing your love will soon be in heaven.

At times, good people ask me how she is, I can't answer because it's too hard to speak,
Watching larches, dressed in spring green next to wild cherries, it gives me no comfort,
We used to sit and watch pink wallflowers in our cottage garden it bought us happiness,
But now my strength has gone it is so hard to pretend when your heart is in little bits.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Boat of love

Boat of love

The sea like a mirror,
abandoned skies,
and you and I so close.
I can see us in the boat of love.
The sea like milky honey, left by alien bees,
the day in us so quiet.
And I wished so much that you could read my thoughts.
My love for you could help us reach the sky.
Our guarding angel is with us all the time.
And I would held you in my arms,  
hold you with my love,
gildened by your smile.
Your arms, your kisses, so powerful and warm
in these nights without forgetting.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Sea and Sky

The sea spoke to the sky and said,
“Join me if you will. 
For the beauty of both 
Shall entice man
And lure them
Right to where 
I want them.”
The sky replied with a no,
“If I help you lure them
They will die without hope.
They will not have seen the beauty
That we truly offer,
That we truly provide.”
“But, we can then control”
Said the sea, to no avail.
The sky exclaimed,
“It is beneath me 
To waste their lives.
I provide them sunshine
For life.
I provide them rains
For growth.
I provide them eternity
For when they look upon me,
They will gaze in wonder and awe.
For I am eternal
And that they will see 
When their time comes.”
With that, the sea grew rough,
Showing it’s anger.
The sky reminded,
“Churn as you will
But without me
You, too, will dry,
But I choose not to do that,
Unless provoked.”
The sea calmed
And man sailed 
upon the sea.