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Quatrain Sea Poems | Quatrain Poems About Sea

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

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Frosted Panes - re-post

                                   
When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again
In that old house, where you wove that coloured tapestry
With all the glorious memories of your life upon the sea

With weathered palm so deeply etched with every season past
You rubbed a porthole in the center of the frosted glass
Where outside in splendour lie a winter-wonderland
As halos rose above your head from a pipe bowl in your hand

And there upon a rocking chair as smoke rings filled the air
We rocked across a sea of dreams wind tangled in our hair
To lands I’d never been before we stepped upon those shores
And through your eyes I saw each one and still I wanted more

The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green       
As the world outside held its breath in a sea of snowy cream
And when the chill of winter melted from the windowpane
The whistling kettle on the stove brought us home again

You held my hand and looked at me with that twinkle in your eyes
And told me you would be my Captain 'til the day I died
So when winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again 

             ~~~~~


Written:  Jan 15, 2011

Author:  Elaine George
First Place in Brian Strand's contest:  Let's See
4th   Place In - Anything goes contest

In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George'.


Authors Note:
When I was a child of three, I Went to live for a year with my Grandparents in Nova 
Scotia. At that time my Grandfather was a retired Sea Captain of a Three Mast 
Schooner. He had spent most of his life at sea, taking lumber and coal to New 
Brunswick and various ports in the U.S. and in the winter months, would carry on  to 
pick-up and deliver  cargo in the  West Indies. Although my time with him was short, 
the memories we shared have comforted me through-out the years.  
~~~~~


   
 


 


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Christmas Magic

The magic came to Christmas Day when shepherds first were told, When wise men brought their frankincense, their myrrh and gifts of gold, When heaven opened wide its gates and angels came to sing; For in a manger on the hay, lay Christ, the newborn king. I found it first at Grandma's house, so many years ago, When she prepared her Christmas treats and Grandpa seemed to glow. The house was full of warmth and love, so sweet, so pure and real; And what I cherish most of all, that Christmas magic feel. It's in the music, on the air; just turn the dial to find Inspiring songs that sing of peace, goodwill to all mankind. They sing their praises unto God and spread their Christmas cheer, And everywhere the songs are sung, they find an opened ear. Its clamor, sparkle, warmth and hope, of which we try to write In pretty lines of words and rhymes that never sound just right, Can best be seen in children's eyes when they awake to see What Santa Claus has brought and placed beneath the lighted tree. The magic feel returns each year with warmth on coolish nights, With memories steeped in seasons passed, in songs and blinking lights, At Grandma's house, her Christmas treats, aromas rich and spiced; To recognize the best in man, and honor Jesus Christ.


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Frosted Panes

When winter paints those frosty ferns on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl up on your lap again;
In that old house, there by the sea, where you wove that tapestry,
With all the glorious memories, of your life upon the sea.

With weathered palm, so deeply etched, with every season past,
You rubbed a porthole in the center, of the frosted glass,
Where outside, in splendour lie, a winter-wonderland,
As halos rose above your head, from a pipe bowl in your hand.

And there upon a rocking chair, as smoke rings filled the air,
We rocked across a sea of dreams, wind tangled in our hair;
To lands I’d never been before, we stepped upon those shores,
And through your eyes I saw each one, and still I wanted more.

The morning passed in dreams between two pairs of eyes of green,       
As the world outside, held its breath, in a sea of snowy cream;
And when the chill of winter melted, from the windowpane,
The whistling kettle, on the stove, brought us home again.

You held my hand and looked at me, with that twinkle in your eyes,
And told me you would be my Captain, 'til the day I died.
So, when winter paints those frosty ferns, on my windowpane,
I find myself a little girl, up on your lap again. 


Written:  Jan 15, 2011

Author:  Elaine Geroge


In loving memory of my Dear Papa 'Captain James George (the 3rd').
   
 


 


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Good Tidings

It's twelve days before Christmas, Love, and I am sitting here,
the hearth fire is burning bright, but on my cheek they're tears.
I hold the conch shell to my ear and call for you my dear.
Out across the briny deep a tempest cries beware.

The entry hall is full of garland, pine, spruce and mistletoe
The mirrors are all draped with ribbons, the brass all aglow
I hold the conch shell to me ear and stare out at the snow
remembering our last parting, I begged you not to go.

"Captain" said I "can you not see you take my heart from me?"
In his hand I placed a lock of hair, and a mustard seed.
He handed me a pearly conch shell from the Isle of Capri,
and bid me listen for his love song from the Southern Sea.

For twelve days, I've climbed stairs to the widows walk on high,
I clasp the token to my chest and search the sea near-by
So sad, yet sweet the mermaids sang, they of sailor's gone by.
They sang in sympathy, a song of longing with breathy sighs.

The cliff fires burn so bright now, he's coming on the tide.
The church bells are ringing now, soon they'll at anchor lie.
Had he heard me, had he called, had it been a dream I scryed?
T'was Christmas Eve and in the snow, he's landing with the tide.


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A Ripple In Time

An angel kissed a ripple
Onto a glassy sea
And in that very instant
A baby came to be

A hundred times she kissed it
A hundred thousand more
Each time the troubled surface
More troubled than before

The ripples started crossing
And people crossing too
In time made each their ripple
Like as that ocean blue

So here is my petition
Oh Jesus, hear my plea!
That all my parting wavelets
Be marked in time for Thee


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Sailing These Seas

Sailing these seas, right now the waves are rough.
The ship is hard to steer, and I fear we may sink.
My crew has hope, but they don’t see what I do.
The water’s looking troubled, just like the way I think.

Sailing these seas, the waves have settled down.
The ship is sailing smoothly, I believe we’ll be okay.
My worries are at the back of my head.
I’ll save them for another day.

Sailing these seas, I think we’ve struck something!
My crew is in a panic, and I was not prepared.
Captain, don’t you know you always have to be cautious?
Even the leader sometimes gets scared.

Arriving at the shore, the ship barely intact.
Most of my crew is gone, but a few knew how to live.
They saved me when I needed them.
I want to show thanks, but I have nothing left to give.

*side note*

To me, this poem sort of symbolizes depression, while indirectly talking about it.

The first verse pretty much says
"I am in a bad place, and I have supporting friends/family, but they don't see what I'm going through the way I do."

Second: "Things are getting better and I've decided to stop worrying about bad things happening and try to be happy."

Third: "Whenever I start thinking about good things and have hope, something bad always happens and I should've been prepared for it."

Fourth: "I made it through it, but lost a lot of the people supporting me because they couldn't handle me while I was down, and whatever I went through weakened me so it's hard to show gratitude to the people who stayed."


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Sea of Dreams

She drifted on black starlit glass
beneath the full moon bright
captivated by the beauty of
the tranquil, lovely light
floating on the gentle waves
the stars kissed her goodnight
and rocked into her deepest dreams
she floated out of sight

By Morgan Mise
Written January 6, 2013


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The Pirate's Life for Me

I starts me life as pirate, 
A grommet before age twelve,
Not an ordinary bandit,
High sea adventures me delve.

With a Letter of Marque in me han’
And the Commodore for me pa!
I spends dogwatch near the helmsman,
Nerey missin’ me bonny ma.

Old salts tell their gory tales,
Aye, dogs hanging from the gallows.
Punishments for a man who fails
Floggings or keelhaul; blood bath follows.

Scrimshaw hangin’ ‘round me neck.
A privateer by trade,
Flaunting booty on the deck
We’s the scallywags brigade.

Pirateering is me heartthrob.
I dreams schemes in the crows nest.
‘bout takin’ swag from an unfortunate swab.
I sits watchin’ pa from the crest.

Long nines aimed and ready,
Jolly Roger on the mainmast,
Headway fast and steady,
The enemy’s fate forecast.

One for all and all for one!
Drinkin’ grog an’ eatin’ grub.
Werkin’ on the “Morning Sun”
Me father at the hub.

Davy Jone’s locker, me final plight! 
Death drifting in me beloved sea –
Straightway from the dark of night
The pirate’s life for me!

© July 15, 2010
Dane Smith-Johnsen


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The Owl and the PusyCat Sail

Together the Owl and the PusyCat were married
Then again sailed out over the deep blue seas
Searching forever for the great Land of Nod,
To the place where they could find true peace.
True peace, true peace… Where they could find true peace.

The love that twined forever within their hearts
They sought throughout all the wonderous lands
Going to the place where they would live in peace,
A place where true peace, rules and lives in the hearts of the land.
The land, the land… Where true peace lives in the heart of the land.

Alas, the love of the heart, though truly not easy to find…
Is easier to find than the love of peace, found throughout the land.
So it’s said they will continue to sail, until that day comes true,
And when they land for the final time, will be up to me and you.
Me and you, me and you… That day will be up to me and you.



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On Golden Sands - For Adults Only

On golden sands in naked lay
Adventurous hands in touching display
His Maidens skin like fine porcelain
Lips in touch, loves to gain

So caressed she becomes so moist
Groans of excite in wanting voice
Her perfect pink lips lure me to kiss
Sweet she is in hungry bliss

In spiral licks to her lips I head
As she welcomes me home on natures bed
Slowly I enter whilst warmed by she
In kissing touch sharing her honey we be

To her nape I kiss whispering words of love
On natures bed, blue ceiling above
Our movements of joy like the oceans waves
Excite her firm breasts, her pertness I crave

My head in her hands as she entices my bite
Kissing, licking her pert nipples in hardened height
Our bodies now joined in writhing glow
Sharing words of love as our loving shows

My pillar of man between her Vee
In rhythmic motion thee and she
Spontaneous we are in pleasurable voice
Arched she becomes as our bodies rejoice

The release of man cascades her inner walls
Warmed and pink my eyes now befall
A gentle kiss to her heaven I plant
In loving groan, my Maiden now pants

Up her torso I kiss to her lips I share
Sweet tasting honey to her eyes I stare
In gentle touch our moment now lived
Memories we share, for our love we give 







http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-20.php


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Never a Day Goes By

Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Grief stricken she has become now his spirits having flown
Seafaring was in his blood, ancestral like his past
For the seas take no prisoners, life very seldom lasts

Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Her heart forever tormented for his seed shall never be sown
She weeps constantly for the love that grew with her soul
To grow old in their marriage, having children their only goal

Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Loyalty in her remains as the past decades have always shown
The stone that now lays in remembrance, stands battered and worn
For the seas display their wrath, leaving the future of some unborn








http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-6.php


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I must go down to the sea again

I must go down to the sea again,
My face turned towards the sky
With wind-snatched sounds from the beach below
And above, the seagull’s cry.

Let me walk along the cliff again. 
Let me learn into the gale.
See the breakers as they curl and crash
Hear the sound of the shifting shale.

Let me lie in the cliff-top grass again.
Let me hear the singing sand,
Feel the sting of the wind-whipped dunes
And walk the long sea strand.
   
I must go down to the sea again,
So I can say ‘good bye’
And feel the salt spray on my face
Once more before I die.





Written for Tracy Decker’s “Inspired by the Masters” contest.
First line has been taken from John Masefield's lovely poem.


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Part of Me

There's a part of me that still lives on the water
A part of me that you can never keep
Tears fill my eyes as I dream  of the ocean
I see that island paradise in my sleep

My fishing boat lies sleeping in the harbor
Anchor weighing heavy on the ocean floor
I still miss all those nights at sea
My fishing boat will sail again no more

This was the life that I had chosen
From one port to another I would roam
Never stayed long enough to be familiar
Never knew a place I could call home

Sometimes I walk along the shoreline
Listening to her song out on the sea
That's when I know that someday I'll be leaving
The song she's singing is calling me

There is something magical in a night at sea
There's a million stars hanging all around
Untold stories lying behind me
New horizons yet to be found

Now that my sailing days are over
And my life is shifting gears
I can still resurrect those memories
When I taste the salt in my tears.


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A Summer Walk

The sun is slowly rising and a soft wind gently blows
We are heading for the beach to feel the sand between our toes
There is something about the summer sun and a walk along the shore
That tends to put your world at peace as you hear the ocean's roar

The sound of children's laughter and the smell of tanning lotion
The taste of salt in the air from the mist coming off of the ocean
Sea gulls against a clear blue sky and a ship with its' sails set
These are days that will live in our memory, days we'll never forget

There are palm trees, music and a carousel as you make your way along
And a young woman in a bikini, her body swaying to an island song
There is a rhythm to the pounding surf, unchanging day to day
That tends to ease a troubled mind and take your blues away

Will you join me in a summer walk and be there at my side
Will you run with me into the water and swim against the tide
There's a bench out on the boardwalk, we can sit a while and talk
Then head back home together as we finish our summer walk.


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In the Sand

He walked down to the sea, lonely and bored
then dips his hand in the warm ocean brine.
Forty years she was the one he adored,
so he kneels to pray for her, one more time.

He spells out her name in the smooth beach sand
then he watches a wave wash it away.
Whispers "Goodbye" just as he starts to stand
he wishes there was more that he could say.

A gentle rumble as breaks a small wave
he can smell her perfume as on the breeze.
He has not the strength to visit her grave
self-pity and pain is all that he sees.

Watches seagulls as they swarm a shrimp boat
as it makes a turn back toward the bay.
Hollow and empty he feels without hope
and wishes a wave would wash it away.


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Castaway Dreams

Warm summer breeze touching the palms
Two bodies entangled on a hidden beach
The moon enhanced by the Southern Cross
The depths of our souls within our reach

The scent of ocean, the taste of coke and rum
The sand between my toes as we walk through the night
The sight of a sailboat dancing on the water
Caribbean blue touching the sand so white

Untouched by progress, kissed by the Gods
Deserted yet so full of life it seems
I call your name and reach out for you
Tears fill my eyes for my castaway dreams.


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Tropical Dreams

There is an island somewhere
And a woman with deep dark eyes
While the Southern Cross is hanging
In the Caribbean's star filled skies

If I could find my way and return
To the way it was back then
Just to hold her in my arms
You know I'd do it all again

It was a tropical paradise
And the sun seemed to always shine
I can close my eyes and see the sand
And feel her body pressed close to mine

Those feelings haunt my dreams 
Though I know it isn't right
I still reach out to hold her 
In the middle of the night

Now my boat is in the harbor
Anchor's on the ocean floor
While I dream of days to come
When I set sail once more.


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Eternal Shadow

In my dreams, I often see a child at the beach
He's alone, building a sand castle with cheers
As the sea waves rushes and hums in a high pitch
Towards safety place, in haste he'll trot in tears

Again there he is, but without his usual beam
He is crying in silence, 'cause of pain in his heart
For the monstrous sea wave has outwitted him
Without mercy, rupturing his innocence apart

The past, led his soul to mourn for many years
Life became insane, for it is filled with sorrow
Sadness ate him alive, he succumbed to fears
Leaving me nothing, but his eternal shadow


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Kindness from Another

The wind swept fate upon her door 
As the ship broke against the rocks
Her house, just off the beach’s crest
Overlooked the sea and its docks

With a sound of thunder, his fate met
As stone broke through the ship’s wood
Sheer devastation, his crew all lost
He swam as best as he ever could

Reaching the shore, looking to the sea
Breathing deeply, cursing its demise
The captain felt he could have done more
As it sunk to the bottom before his eyes

She peering from a dimly lit room
Felt sorrow for those who suffered this eve
Could see on his face, from a distance, even
That the man on the shore started to grieve

She went to him, with brandy and blanket
Offering solace, maybe some hope on this night
He just watched, he stood and stared
As she wandered closer, as a beacon of light

He turned from the wreckage, cast on the shore
To see then a face, so soft with concern
He felt generosity and again he felt hope
As she, with a smile, relieved raging burn


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If I Had My Way

The sea calls my name; to the call of waves I respond
For seven full days with no one I’ll correspond
My fishing gear packed, I board a cabin cruiser
To escape society, man’s worst abuser

The GPS set, I head fifty miles offshore
To a reef where city lights can’t be seen anymore
The sea would remain calm; hey, this is my story
And the galley’s pantry filled with inventory

Gull screeches and dolphin cackles, the only sounds
In each direction a blue horizon surrounds
Since the break of dawn, the grouper have been biting
Catching my dinner; nothing is more exciting

As the orange sun paints clouds pink before it sets
I commune with God and nature, have no regrets
Through the skylight above the cabin’s comfy bed
Venus, Mars and the Milky Way appear overhead

Reminders that I’m but a speck in God’s grand plan
Merely a traveler whose perceptions expand
A lifetime I’d want, but settle for just one week
To live upon the ocean and adventure seek  
 

* For Carol’s “A Week to Do as You Please” contest


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Christmas Time's Around the Bend

The time has come to string the lights and decorate the tree, Fix-up the barn an' house a mite for all the folks to see, Cause Christmas time's around the bend, an' Santa's underway A-makin' toys for girls an' boys, an' gifts to fill his sleigh. The widder Jones, from down the road, her cook-stove's bellerin' smoke, She makes tamales ever year for passin' city-folk. But through the year she cusses 'em for just a-passin' by, An' raisin’ dust she’s gotta to sweep when that ol' road is dry. The school put on their annual play and that turned into fun. They cast my nephew as the babe; he played the Holy Son! The Wise Men never had a chance. They got a real surprise, When baby Jesus tossed his milk an' caught one in the eyes. But ever year I'm still amazed by changes folks can make, Like Mister Groves, a stubborn coot I'd often like to shake. He turns a leaf at Christmas time, an' acts just like a saint, He'll drive to town an' do for folks that's crippled, sick an' cain't. On Christmas Day, the kids in town get stockings filled with loot. For some it's still a mystery but it's that "stubborn coot". I saw him late one Christmas Eve a-tendin' to the chore; For ever kid, in ever house, he left one at the door. It never snows on Christmas Day, it's mostly never missed. No sleighs to ride or sleds to slide, the things could fill a list, But there's no other place on Earth at any time of year That holds a light to what we have, the people livin' here. We've shared our lives an' memories, each dream, desire an' plan. We've touched each other ever way that God designed for man. With all their strengths and weaknesses, we love 'em still the same When Christmas time's around the bend, an' times that have no name.


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The Hostage

I dream beyond these battlements 
Of islands in the west 
Beyond the strings and sacraments 
That occupy the rest

My gentle sister, soft and pure 
Admires her silken sleeves 
A subtle breeze begins to stir 
The eucalyptus leaves 

And like the leaves that tremble so 
My mind will dance toward 
A distant archipelago 
Or ships that I may board 

And though the only ship I meet 
Is drawn upon a page,
In books or verses I repeat  
These thoughts I can't assuage 

I dance in sprays of golden flowers 
That sprout along a stream
I walk along the shore for hours 
Til night begins to gleam 

For I'm too young to marry now 
But houses will decree 
I ask the wind to try, somehow, 
to take me to the sea



-For Isaiah Zerbst's 'Edmund Blair Leighton' contest and inspired by his painting with the same title 


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WATER MATINEE




What drapes these aqua wavelets’ sultry trail Along curled bends, creamy foams lift and rise? Where toes and gulls splash fountains like a sail, Paddling on rock ledges with gargled sighs Dewdrops gloss salty brine through chromed rays To warm the heart dancing with crystal flights, As grains of ivory sand hurl tangy sprays A dream-like scene taken from mermaid rites Dolphins in frolic swivel hips on display Cavorting with sunny air like splashed reel, To play games , a water matinee One, two rides on tides’ Ferris wheel Lapping through buoyed floats with coral refrains This my seashore adorns my wild private roam, Keeping life’s odes, our tunes of summer remains On bed of skin tan, she becomes my home. Summer Contest of Debbie G by nette onclaud


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Crimson Slippers

Opening the doors to the old studio I find A playful capriole sprinted across my mind Into a sashay and a glissade I drifted back I could hear the teachers stick go tap.tap.tap Once a prestigious ballet school of great poise Filled with music as our slippers sounded with noise The mirrors are cracked and the floors dusty Rain soaked wood left the room smelling musty The charm stayed behind as if waiting for me Spotlighting a ballerina to The goddess of the sea The young girl danced flawlessly then took a bow Then sashayed off the stage without a moistened brow An old battered piano appeared across from me Bearing red ballet shoes like a crimson canopy Charm embraced her while honoring her memory As I looked into the mirror I saw that girl was me Carole Cookie Arnold 2010


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EARTH, SEA, SKY



Earth, Sky and Sea comprising Nature's Trinity
Interacting with each other continuously
Water from earth and sea becomes clouds in the sky
Returning as rain, sleet and snow as time goes by

A delicate balance exists between all three
Which must be maintained to preserve the harmony
Man-made pollution on earth reaches sea and sky
Threatening human existence both far and nigh

The Trinity is embedded in you and me
And we are all embedded in the Trinity
Its matter feeds and sustains the human body
Which returns to it at the end of life's journey

All the life forms are infused with the Trinity
Whether it's creatures that frequent earth, sky or sea
For each is just a brief instant in life's journey
In it's passage through space, time and eternity




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The Heart Of The Sea

A mill pool glistening like floating ice
What you see on the top is not real.
Break the surface, it is so nice
With you arms outstretched you can feel.

The current washes below
The lady is peaceful and asleep
Gently rocking to and fro
Beware as she awakes, you are in to deep.

The lady of the sea is cruel
She has no heart it is known.
She takes all from Saint to fool
Man, woman, and child as her own.

 As a lamb wearing a wolf’s disguise
She lures you in with calm and beauty.
In anger she awakes to hear your cries
And then collect all sunken booty.

Don’t ask about the heart of the sea
One does not reside in the deep.
A cruel mistress she is known to be
But so beautiful in her sleep.

© 15/10/2013


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Dancing Trees



Rocking and swaying in the breeze Tree branches are dancing with glee Such playful action of the trees So joyous, unfettered and free Leaves are all rustling and sighing With a sound like waves of the sea Like a crescendo that rising And then subsiding gradually Leaves that fell to the grass below Perform their dancing in the air The breeze tosses them to and fro Making the show a grand affair The sun is shining in the sky Bathing everything in its light I'm feeling such a glorious high Gazing at this beautiful sight


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Amidst Golden Gowns

Alone I sit in a dreamy state
Remembering last night whilst I contemplate
We sat down to dinner looking out across the bay
Playing footsie under the table in loving display

Scented candles wafted their presence aired
Street orbs left us shadowed at the table we shared
The evening breeze on this Autumn day past
Whimpers as it settles, stillness at last

We arise, we walk along historic harbour walls
Amidst golden gowns, only leaves are now in fall
Waves lap the shores whilst birds voice overhead
Blending into the darkness as we wonder what's being said

Every so often we would stop to share a kiss
Knowing we have our tomorrow's fills me with bliss
Remembering last night whilst I contemplate
Alone I sit in a dreamy state










http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-15.php


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Falling of the Edge of the World

I travelled into my thoughts
To somewhere I've never been
The horrors that awaited me
Took me to our human extreme

I cried when I looked through
The windows of our past
And marvelled at what she gave us
I was left in total aghast

In the year two thousand and six
Seven hundred and eighty four
That graced the lands we borrow
Were shown the extinction door

The Tasmanian Devil never nasty
To the Wolves that roamed Alba's land
The Dodo so strange a bird
Were in natures future plans

Twenty eleven now awaits us
Whilst us humans continually strive
Nine hundred and five is now the total
That will never be found alive

Us humans, before we go to sleep
Their falling of the edge of the world
But hey! we'll never change
We're ignorant, and incredibly absurd









http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/nature-13.php


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Beauty of the Pond

The pond laps on the side edge of itself Tiny waves form by the moon’s influence Ripples formed by all the tree’s seeds falling Beauty of this scene has some innocence Reflections in the pond are barely there Wavy image appears on the surface A calming feel is presented right here Each ripple arrives as if in a race Light ricochets off the water’s bright form Opening my heart to wondrous beauty Safely this pond allows me perfect ease My soul’s receptive of tranquility I throw pebbles in the inviting pond I see some fish rising to water’s top Showing off and tempting me to catch them I’ll remember joy, never the teardrops Russell Sivey


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Aboard The Titanic

Today I am about to embark on a journey
that I have waited for, for so long,
they say that this one is the safest ship
were nothing could ever go wrong.

As I stare down at the crowd, I think,
here I am, traveling on the R.M.S. Titanic,
this is the most exciting day of my life
and yet I feel a sense of anxiety and panic.

I calm myself by breathing in April's fresh air
and the sea's waves begin to roll and rock,
I close my eyes and feel the warm sunshine
as the ship finally departs from the dock.

Even though I'm not a first class passenger
I admire the grandeur of the White Star Line,
my few luxuries and the kindness shown to me
are enough to warm this heart of mine.




For Carolyn Devonshire's Past Lives Contest

I'm very interested in learning about the Titanic, but sometimes when I look at a
picture of the ship, I get this tremendous feeling of dread and fear. So much so,
that I cannot look at the photo any longer. I don't know where my fear of this
ship comes from. I have never been on a cruise or had any kind of traumatic
experience on a ship. Sometimes, I think that I may have been on the Titanic
in my past life. I don't know if I would have survived or not.


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Long Live Love

A toss of the head
A flick of her hair
The wave of her hand
As her beauty did flare
 
Her bountiful step
The spring in her stride
Her laugh as we waked 
Hand in hand through the tide
 
Her mouth with its smile
As we wrote in the sand
Her cries of frustration
As sea coated the land
 
Those little I love yous
Meant so much back then
That on annual vacations
We repeat them again
 
For least we forget 
In the daily ado
Our marrital vows
Mean forever I do


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A Posting to Remember

We met during the war on this now famous sunny isle
Like a moth to a flame, was her infectious smile
I was in the Navy, stationed aboard an MTB
Keeping shipping lanes open, for the Mediterranean Fleet

Whilst the war years progressed you could sense the islands bravery
Heavily bombed and damaged, under threat of Axis slavery
Although we lived amidst, we could only marvel at their spirit and guile
They fought hard for their liberty on that famous sunny isle

I'll never forget the times, endured during this terrible war
Camaraderie became their strength, for what they had fought-en for
Simple life went on, amidst the cafes and the bars
My new found love from this famous sunny isle, became my married dove

We still recall the radio broadcast, declaring that war is over
As we headed back to my homeland, to Scotland and live in clover
The day that we embarked, many a tear fell from our eyes
Looking back at this famous sunny isle, under peaceful azure blue skies

Many a word we spoke, whilst we sailed to Southampton Port
Now demobbed, to a civilian, hopefully the war mongers are brought to court
Although the war years showed their horrors, respect was never far away
This famous sunny isle, wears the George Cross in deserved display

Heading home to Scotland, past fields in harvest bloom
This proud Royal Navy sailor, with his bride and he a groom
We cried as we passed the war torn, not only was it the famous sunny isle
For the war had been so expansive, in it's putrid inhuman vile

We settled on the West Coast, amidst the heather and the glens
Bringing up our boys, praying they'll never be fighting men
Many nights we stayed up, answering questions of our past
From that famous sunny isle, our true love would always last








http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-15.php




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A Sailor's Tale

I sail across the open sea,
Moonlight kissing my skin,
The rushing waves inviting me,
My voyage finally begins

The air is cool upon my face,
The night is dark as coal,
My sails are flowing at a fast pace,
Sounds of the ocean comfort my soul

Upon the water lays the moon's silhouette, 
A beautiful sight before my eyes,
This memory tonight, I shall never forget,
Sail the night until the sun shall arise

Crashing of waves to and fro,
Silence and solitude I embrace, 
The heart of the ocean I long to know,
Finding myself in this magical place

Wishing upon the nearest star,
Dreaming my dreams on this cool night,
The song of the ocean I hear from afar,
Sailing in darkness until day's coming light


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Aboard The Titanic - Part 2

I stood alone on the ship's deck all afternoon
just to watch the sun sinking low on the sea,
the Atlantic ocean is so calm this evening
but, that old feeling of dread still bothers me.

I slowly exhale to calm myself once again
and my breath comes out in a white mist,
the air is slowly turning cold and frigid now
as the night's darkness pulls me into it's own abyss.

There is nothing that I can see out there now
except clear-white burgs of ice in the distance,
another odd feeling hits me that I cannot deny
but, how could ice play a role in my existence?

The sun's rising on April 15th will warm me
and I will escape this feeling of an early fate,
my entire body shudders for the very last time
as the sounds of breaking ice and bending iron reverberate.






This poem was inspired by Paul Callus, who suggested that a sequel
to my poem, "Aboard The Titanic", might make for an interesting read.



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The Stars Reflection

He sat there on the edge
of the rocks above the shore
lost there in his thoughts
like many times before
he noticed how the water
seemed to glow with life
and for a couple moments he
forgot about his strife
the light came from the moon
high up in the sky
and he longed to be among the stars
but had no wings to fly
so he climbed down from the rocks
and waded past the shore
he drifted away on the stars reflection
with a heavy heart no more

By Morgan Mise
Written January 6, 2013


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free cee RELAX READ AND LEARN FROM A POET LAURIET

NO NAMES NECESSARY

Legs bless their linen
Two bodies bare of blouse
As fingers toward their targets thrust
When a woman wore only white
And she swore it was all only lust
She lay on sand  and begged for a towel
Yet never bid a word of foul
Acceptance came with actions born
And naked still to greet the dawn
The lady I found wearing white
An oh by an ocean on a secret’s whispered night
No names exchanged no vows foretold
But two bodies for each to enfold
The sea sang its sultry song of surf and waves
For that is how the sea behaves
And all the secrets the seashore saves
Whitecaps conceived and quite contrite
And there lay she, stripped of white
With blessedness carved by Neptune’s will
As I caressed each crevice, curve and hill
And yet the seashore’s secret silent still
alas quiet yet the sea to be
As she atop and under me
When two agendas came unto agree
In the darkness of one secret night

And namelessly I bid fare thee well to the woman who wondrously once wore white
   © 2012   copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~


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Stone Forest

The rushing rivers falling fast 
With fury born on high, 
Cut deeply into ages past 
Where fossil forests lie, 

Their life and death transformed to stone 
Yet titan trees are proud 
To lie together yet alone 
A stone-honed silent shroud. 

The arthropods like trilobites 
Once flourished until fate 
Sent them to depths devoid of light 
As sea salt beds turned slate. 

Today they stay with limb and root, 
Their pose a righteous crown; 
Pre-cambrian volcanic soot 
Would mark stones soon to drown. 

Illusion of great time will flee 
When first one's gaze is cast 
Upon eternal eulogy 
To whispered grandeur past. 

As trees of stone succumbed to sea 
No human soul was there 
To witness somber majesty 
Become majestic prayer. 

A primal wisdom speaks from youth 
To minds who realign 
False comfort for the blended truth 
Hard bound inside this shrine. 


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The World's Big Apple

From an awesome fountain, teeming with life
Out of her depths arose a city of lights
Built upon the shoulders of native sons
A place of hope, liberty, and freedom invites

For centuries her gates have been open wide
Welcoming hoards of strangers from afar 
Bringing multiple cultures, traditions, cuisines and skills
Now a “melting pot”, a bright, twinkling star

Her people once thought of as cold, and uncaring 
On broad streets, and alleys, the death toll was high
Now a change of heart for the better is born in
The world's "Big Apple" reaching to the sky


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O CHIMING BELLS OF MIDNIGHT...

O chiming bells of midnight,...
gladly announce Jesus' joyful birth;
see how the Heavens' stars shine...
to glorify the most glorious One!


Unpleasant is the cold December' air,
and a manger is the perfect shelter
away from the frost and the gelid wind;
see how He smiles as all the angels sing!


Come shepherds, bring along your sheep,
to warm up a King whose heart is so meek;
and as the Wise Men kneel down in divine adoration,
I watch the gifts in their hands with much trepidation!


O chiming bells of midnight...echo through my starry valley,
and cheer up this silent town that offers its true serenity;  
and if snowflakes fall and make all the stars seem too far,
my lamp will brighten up the path and lead me to the Messiah! 
 

Entered in Carolyn Devonnshire's contest, "Christmas in your town"

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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The moonlight fugitive

Short gasps of air whirl through a burning throat,
still her legs defy the exhaustion in desperation.
Behind her trail phantoms of memories afloat
upon a sea of desertion.

Beneath a canopy of constellation
she finds herself lost in time.
The forest unfolds before her like a revelation.
An apocalyptic bell sounds one chime.

It won’t be long before a mistake is irreversible.
Every turn is just another minute to live.
The last road taken proves an ironic circle. 
Sinking between the waves that created her, rests the moonlight fugitive.


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SEA LIFE

A dance of elegance they leap
in grace of movements sweep
moonlights skipping on the waves
upon the circuits the currents paves

A Spanish Dancer twirls her skirt
whose painted like a rainbows shirt
Your works oh Jah blanket the Sea
where creatures frolic internally

Where Leafy Dragons in Reefs foray
the clown fish in anemone play
the razor fish like knives in sand
but foolish men think it's not planned

Where fierce and tender Orca steals
the infant pups of many Seals
where coral forests the oceans floor
the groves of Kelp hide many more

Odd companions the crab and shrimp
who share a hole like common tent
on flows the cisterns of the Deep
the lair where Leviathan do sleep

There flying fish cavort on wing
wild aquatic souls live and sing
here Dolphins cartwheel in escapade
in pods their dancing a parade 

Who understands the Songs of Whales
who carry calves and smack their tails
to starfish who cling the rock of Beaches
here low tides the mussels reaches 

These lives mankind has proved a danger
to poison Seas palace he is no stranger
Here predator man competes with Sharks
in every Sea his fatal marks

The Shark only does his hunt for meal
Mankind's a predator who kill and steal
Toxic pollution down rivers flow
the dead zones that kill the life below

Life perpetuates itself by designers plan
We question it's survival , it's death by Man
Those who love the earth these traits resist
There's too much beauty divinely kissed 

COPYRIGHT © 2014 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


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THE PURPLE SPRING CROCUS - A CHRISTMAS STORY

Early Christmas morning I glanced outside,
and no snow was falling, and suddenly a vision of a luminous light
with a trembling child appeared in sight...
and could this have been the Infant of prophecy and might?


And He softly said with the sweetest and kindest voice,
"I bring you no snow but endless love...the warmest flame
that makes every forsaken and unhappy heart rejoice;
it's a gift so gladly given to all the believers of this blessed age." 


Struck by that splendid appearance, unafraid,
I ran to thank him for those wonderful words,;
and not having seen any gift under the decorated spruce,
I seemed puzzled, but not fearful or nearly surprised.


There it stood, my gift from that generous child with golden, curly hair: 
a purple spring crocus never seen before, an Alpine flower
which grows in early April in every emerald meadow...
I leaned forward with much gentleness and plucked it from the cold snow.
 

When I stood up, he was gone and not a trace of him could be found,
and who was that cherub without wings...to leave that flower in the bitter cold? 
Wasn't He the Christ Child who was born in a Bethlehem's abandoned stable?
And wasn't hope the meaning of the purple spring crocus so beautiful?  





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On Blue Silk she Lies

My beauty, my love
On a sea of blue
The silk on her contours
Shows her figure true

Her lateral lines
Curvaceous shape
Caressing her 
The blue silk drapes

As i look into her eyes
She reads me like a book
My intentions 
When she gives me that look

My beauty, my love
So gorgeous in view
Luring me with those eyes
Lying on a sea of blue





http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/love-9.php


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Illuminate

Like the sun's kiss in the morning
Pitch black dark with a flashing light
From a lighthouse when it's storming
That helps to guide you through the night


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Exchanged for Youth

I will count no more those wasted tears
as gambled wages spent
for all my days in toiled years
were worthy of every cent

It's sure, not all my dreams came true
and love it came and went
but for all the trials and all the moods
like a staircase it mapped my assent

For in wisdom gained abides these three
reflection, limitation and experience 
through alterations I couldn't foresee 
they crushed or bred resilience 

Reflection remains the wisest call
where limitation magnifies humility
experience is the worst of all
bitterness can be self-defeating hostility

As a child born to a wandering sea
I board the ship of pearl
and bind myself to reflections plea
as ties of error unfurl

Before me now is the cost revealed
wisdom has taught me many a truth
It's sunless crypt has come unsealed
and taken in exchange my youth





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THE TRAGEDY IS...

The tragedy is...
when one finds himself alone,
relying on dreams that die before they are being born;
seasons renew themselves, his hasty years can't otherwise!   



Love gently strokes with indelible joy the portrait of happy faces, 
and its colors blend in to immortalize those realistic images:
by placing roses in the hands of an elegant lady;
grant her lifetime' wish, love her with dignity! 
  
 

The tragedy is...
having a lot to say, but afraid to speak words,
all the while she awaited your approval of indecisive lover;
constantly checking the mail-box for another letter!



Showers of confetti swirling in the festive air so delusional...
is a parade of an urealized  thought to attract the trivial imagination,
see reality as it is:  earn trust by being more caring and lovable;
fulfill her needs, and she will satisfy yours with true intention!



The tragedy is...
most men wait for that opportunity to open up,
to reveal the sensitive side of the their fearful and silent heart;
and keeping affection from their women, can cost them much happiness!     


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Love Forlorn

The sea and mist
Have lightly kissed
The shore again
And all points when

I take my bow
To heed the stern
The sea again
By ocean yearn

And rain my face
In transient place
To sea again
An algae lace

I turn to see
The rain is gone
Forever now
My love forlorn

She tells me not
Like storm before
When we began
Or when it tore

Surprise to me
Upon its end
Do I refresh
Or never mend


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Sandcastles- A Sequel to Imperceptibly

Imperceptibly you withdrew
Like the ebbing of the tide
Leaving sand in your wake
My heart’s wound open wide

I just stood there all alone
As I looked out at the sea
Longing just to plunge in
Have your love wash over me

I was left with only sand
Inside my empty heart
And so to pass the time
Built sandcastles, works of art

My incessant flow of tears
Wet the sand enough for me
So I could mold and fashion
As I turned my back to the sea

They were majestic structures
Filled with my wistful dream
Each fantasy that I had
Made those sandcastles gleam

The sun burned my naked form
As I worked away the time
Each room, each moat and line
Was a wish for you to be mine

Suddenly, oh sweet surprise
I felt water gush over me
Sandcastles were swept away
I was made love to by the sea

At last, you've come back to me
The tide of your love has turned
The touch of your fluid arms
Cools what the sun has burned

I jump and swim in your waves
Then I lie back as you caress
You tease as you pull me down
I’m immersed in tenderness

The tide of your love had ebbed
But now you’ve washed over me
I will not ask reasons why
I’m as happy as can be.

Eileen Manassian Ghali


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Pride and Prejudice

Roots of brothers’ enmity


Days of thunder rise
When skin and classes
Did society divide
Into angry masses.

Disabilitating pride
Of prejudice impasses
Bursting into fire
Erasing crevasses.

A powerful dynamite
Abolishing classes
In fatal crossings like
Those of sea lasses*.

Fire raced worldwide
In tragic menaces
Destroying empires
For their trespasses.

World yet divided
Historical enmity clashes
Rooting in the first crime
Abel and Cain’s buried ashes.

By CarolineCécile
March 2007.

* Sea Lasses is a metaphor for cruise ships like the Titanic.


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THE DREARINESS OF THIS FRIGID SEASON

Goodbye Fall with all the auburn leaves of the reddest sunset,
goodbye crackling path where I met the last songbirds,
whose melody accompained me to winter's doors;
and with deep sadness I kept on looking back.


Welcome gloomy winter with short afternoons and long evenings;
watching the advancing shadows and loudly hearing
the furious sound of the squall rampaging the stately trees,
and making them weep when the icy rain comes down with lightining. 


Sitting in a rattling, rocking chair, I peruse through pages of sunny places afar,
forgetting the dreariness of this frigid season and be consoled by a warm fire;  
and still nostalgia abounds...thinking of the pleasant strolls of a past season,
which thrilled me with its colors, and through delight I justified my reason. 


O winter, don't linger as you always have...shorten your stay, avoid foul play; 
and could I ever stand a pale sun, hardly giving off with its luminiscence,
in this house hidden among the maples and the pines of a squalid valley?
Old winter, don't mislead me with days without snow...that's utter pretense!


Goodbye explorer fedora hat keeping my dreamer's head cool, 
sparing my skin another ugly wrinkle, allowing late beauty to rule;   
goodbye iced coffee sipped from my Big Apple plastic cup,
which I bought along Fifth Avenue in a crowded, variety shop. 


Ummerciful winter, pity the desperate state I am in,
reduce the wrath of your devastation, step inside and to tell me your amazing tales...
hoping that I will write them down for everyone to read and enjoy for immortal ages;
relentless winter, reduce the dreariness of this frigid season.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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All At Sea

Floating on unknown waves the ship sails
where hidden rocks on hazardous sea
the sailor’s life on this tempestuous waters
the pilot alerted searching for a quay.

Vigorous waves on the ocean rough
marine life so dangerous yet exciting
the dreadful breakers starts to roar
all are safe near the shore arriving.


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Arranging on my canvas, colors inhabited

-
The window opens on our secret travels

Mist of saline uproar raids on the space

What keeps us awake and makes us sagacious

Under this afternoon luxuriously blended,

 

The addition and ebb, mineral materials

To leave the sea , invade us of yesterday:

The small square of ocher resists , without thoughts

But in colors, only expended

 

Without words, without wetness intruse of summer lands

Evasive shade of olive trees, in this unique moment,

Witnesses of thousand years, of Italy close to Sicily

A look,put in mythological world, and islands …

 

Still yet, under the wind jerks

Witness of our way,  and our instant

Without risking me to invite eternity

Arranging on my canvas, colors inhabited ….

 -


own translation from  french--- (see original below )

-



La fenêtre s’ouvre sur nos voyages secrets

Buées du vacarme salin des rafles sur l’espace

Ce qui nous tient éveillés, et rend sagaces

Sous cet après-midi luxueusement malaxés,

 

L’ajout et le reflux, matières minières

À laisser la mer nous envahir d’hier :

Le petit carré d’ocre résiste sans pensées

Mais en couleurs seulement dépensées

 

Sans paroles, et sans la moiteur intruse des terres d’été

En cet instant unique, à l’ombre évasive des oliviers,

Témoins millénaires de l’Italie proche de Sicile,

Du monde en regard mythologique, et en îles…

 

Immobile encore, sous les saccades du vent

Témoin de notre passage et notre instant

Sans pour autant me risquer à convier l’éternité

Disposant sur ma toile, des couleurs habitées…
--

RC  2012

(avaible  on http://ecritscrisdotcom.wordpress.com/2012/03/13/disposant-sur-ma-toile-des-couleurs-habitees-rc-2/    with a painting  I've  done )

-


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THE STINGING KIND

Jellyfish is the stinging kind,
it is found in droves
on our crowded beaches...
any little sting can drive anyone wild.


Yes, they are spineless, mordant and gelitous...
being closed watched by large gulls with a hungry palate,
but are chased away by dogs so ferocious;
I'm wondering how they will look and taste on my plate!


And still curious kids scoop them with plastic sand-shovels
and try to save them by dropping them in water-filled buckets,
running with excitement...ignoring the screams of their moms,
and they yell, " Put them down, they will sting you more than once!"


O jellyfishes, don't be vicious...we love you like shell-fish,  
if you could talk, your bizarre conduct won't be misunderstood by many! 
Is the water so polluted and infested with sharks that you flee from the sea, 
or are the fishermen so angry for wasted time on a worthless catch?


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PLANNED A DAY IN THE MERRY SUNSHINE

Came from work, exhausted and moody,
fall is advancing with an improvised, swift pace,
but the meteorologist defies it with the happiest face;
and tomorrow I'll wake up and trot away! 


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
with a basked full of treats and a bottle of red wine,
to be consumed by the shade of an elm with my dearest;
and all the songbirds I will invite to my afternoon's feast!


We lay on the neatest blanket, facing the calmest, eastern sea
as sailboats drift by...a toddler listens to his mom's nostalgic song,
and in her tender voice that soldier's smile, on rippled waves, appears;
and tears, with a solar luster, fall on the pristine sand to recall her lost love.
  

Seagulls glide over to announce the close of an August's evening
still huddled in intimate embrace, the rushing waves tickle our toes,
and not minding their amusing play, we carry on and not withdraw;
before we lift the damp blanket, we are greeted by stars in throngs.


Planned a day in the merry sunshine,
a fantasy realized by two who will dream of this passionate season,
remembering our tanned faces and skin glittering with sand;
waving goodbye to the disheveled mother and trembling child.



Note:  These are the observations of a happy couple spending a day on the beach,
but  the happiness they felt wasn't shared by a mother and child who both missed a husband 
and father; and by the sad look on their faces, gazing out to the sea...he had gone to the  
Iraq War, and unfortunately had never returned home.


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SLEEP WELL, EMILY

Sleep well, Emily
on a soft pillow
resembling a willow
courting the starry sea...

And should a storm arrive,
I'll shut the windows,
and keep serenity alive
for the sake of precious dreams...

Sleep well, Emily
dreaming of August' breezes
when the gleaming waves
reflect a dark blue so pretty...


Covered by a transparent satin sheet color sapphire
softer than your own glowing skin,
your feminine curves induce an incredible desire
in the palpiting heart of this tempted man....


Sleep well, Emily
putting all thoughts to sleep,
unless passion arises an intense heat
to allow me to touch you softly... 


And exploring our sexuality
without being ashamed of nudity,
we are those lovers seeking total darkness
into a place where there's deep tenderness....


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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FROM A MOUNTAIN'S PEAK

From a mountain's peak,
to a very picturesque valley below,
these cold and sprightly waters flow...
watching the gyrfalcon cool off his beak.


River, don't stop your flow anytime,
let me admire how you glisten...
running down the snowy inclines;
hearing the croaking sound of a raven. 
 
 
Further down you plunge into ravines,
and less forcelful than a waterfall,
you splash on rocks and wildflowers...
raring in the manner of a rascal.


No vigilant eagles, or dozing marabous amid stalks,
are found as you approach vast grasslands,
but the ocean is very far and doubts arise;
o river, keep on flowing towards those serene skies!
 

From a mountain's peak with graceful glee,
you gurgle in flowless rhythm without mistake,
satisfying my dry palate in a dire state;
o river, flow like the blood that sustains me!
  
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Spear of Morn

Like spears of light such bright bolts born;
the buds of daffodils are formed
Within a fine green glade of shafts,
the buds of Marches blooms do blast

Removing gloom of browns, grays,
obliterating dreary days,
most fair salute, glorious dawn;
the day the daffys buds adorn.


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MOTHER NATURE AND NEPTUNE ARE LOOKING FOR SOME CASH

      THAT’S NOT A GOOD TUNE NEPTUNE
 
Certainly we all knew about that boat
Christened, but can she float?
Sure we knew about that ship
But no one knew how quickly the main sail would rip

Yes we knew the danger but also the thrill
And allow old Neptune to do that which he will
We were private pirates of whom know one should know
Sailing curls that curried the favor of Neptune’s blow

But sailors naught, naught ought be we
Trying to stay adrift in a bloody sea 
Yet the storm grows in wind and in strength
And this is one unprepared crew, not for rain nor its length

Another mile or two is where they found Fred
He was injected with an overdose of the  sea and is decidedly dead
As for me and the other four we all beat the sea 
That day Neptune was our connection and  Mother Nature sold dope to me
        © 2011.…PHREEPOETREE!


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For Lillian

Hidden from the light of stars
there sleeps my darling dead
and every passing day without her 
fills my heart with dread
her captivating hazel eyes
they used to shine so bright
I'd give the world to gaze in them 
as I fall asleep tonight
but she, a corpse without a grave
and I, a broken soul
I was bound to her and her to me
together we were whole
Now I'm the sun and she, the moon
together we cannot be
for now my darling Lillian
sleeps beneath the sea

(May, 2013)


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VOYAGE INTO THE BLUE

VOYAGE   INTO   THE   BLUE


When our boat puts out to sea
Let the wind take the sails full
And the tide be favorable as we
Are followed by  the whale and gull.

May the prow respond to my wheel
And the deck  constantly turn
To the loving moving caress and feel
Of  the waves behind our stern.

You will navigate, I shall helm :
Our course will be unharried
On our trackless journey in this realm  -
When you and  I are married.

. . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .. . 

Entered in Francine Roberts'  Contest  "Blue on blue on blue"

(  chosen topic is    OCEAN  )


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My Seat By The Sea

It is my most special place on earth 
and no one knows that but me
Who knows where this log has been 
before it washed in from the sea

Did it rest of the shores of Alaska 
or drift down from the Caspian Sea
Has someone else sat on it and wondered, 
has it crossed the ocean just for me

I drag my toes through the sun-warmed sand 
and watch baby crabs scamper over my feet
I'm daydreaming and yet I'm so curious 
how I've come to nature's window seat

I think of my most treasured memories, 
and of things that have ever made me cry
I wonder who else has sat on this log 
and thought how life is passing them by

The smell of the ocean's salty water 
and the blissful calm of the warm sun today
makes me remember a time oh so long ago 
when our family often came here to play

I'm so sad but I know just how lucky I am 
to have this special and wonderful memory
There's not a better place to come and think 
than this weathered old seat by the sea


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AN EXTRAORDINARY DREAMER

Since childhood my vivid and alluring aspirations
painted my rainbows with different colors,
not the ones I was after and truly adored...
who has ever heard of a teenager being bored?



Anytime I saw a train leave the station with its smooth rhythm,
I wanted to be that conductor who could never fall asleep,
and at every stop he would look carefully before closing the doors...
then, laid-back, watch the changing landscape and whistle his tunes!



If imagination had not been there to tackle my reflective tendencies
that were, indeed, rooted in all aspects of the present wilderness,
I wouldn't have cultivated this passion and turn it into a realistic dream...
which allowed inspiration to enter the subconsciousness of this thinker's realm!    



The fast-paced postman delivering mail to mailboxes seldom locked, thrilled me;
he looked so sharp and handsome greeting folks, and it would have been an honor
to chat with them, listening to their suggestions and helping them thoroughly...
I visualized myself as such, and even practiced it daily in front of large mirror!



If tons of ideas hadn't fed the urge to jot down details with ebullient imagery,
unless I wasn't aware of their poignant meaning and powerful message,
I wouldn't have let fantasy create an extraordinary dreamer out of someone so ordinary...
to adorn dullness with my cheerfulness and change winter to spring!
 


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SHORT TRIP TO CULLERCOATS HEAVEN

SHORT    TRIP   TO   CULLERCOATS  HEAVEN


Summer day in  Gateshead  grim
Go  with  limping  uncle John
Leave  the slums and  factories  dim.
Train to   Cullercoats  on our own.

Steep cliff steps and sandy ramps  
But  cliff-edge  binoculars  explore -
Though   his lost leg  gives him cramps -
My  sandy-play  and the wreck  offshore. 

Appetites  from cool breeze salty
Gravy   ducks  *   then stand in door
Of pub-wood polished, shiny, malty -
One  lemonade  -  or maybe  more. 

Pocket-sand  home  now,  and shell,
To extend the joy for a time,
Thru  dark train tunnels back to hell
Across the river  in  Gateshead’s   grime.


Note :     *A   gravy duck was a meatball dipped in savoury sauce, extremely tasty


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THE STEADFAST FORCE GUIDING ME

No one can see the steadfast force
guiding me toward infinite peace,
an untroubled and limpid sea...
with glittering, foaming waves!


Some call it faith, I call it strength;
and somehow leads me to believe in destiny...
that the spirit cannot be broken easily
when the foundation is built on courage!


I strum my guitar and sing Alleluia, and as 
I carefully walk...I can't ever stumble
on a smooth road, where evil is not present...  
to give a sign of premonition to an ever-faithful!

 
I go past the pear' orchards in a remote farm,
and the pheasants sit in the golden branches;
the fruits look so succulent inviting me to taste them,
others have wished to savor such a sweetness!


A surge of sublime joy swells inside like that of songs,
and gracefully I sing them by allowing sustenance...
the steadfast force guiding me to enjoy the supreme moments
as if sighting a supernova, which will not lose its brilliance!


An oath of obedience I have made to God,
and being humble, I will honor Him repeatedly...
in all kinds of prayers and proclaim Him Lord
whose hand is the steadfast force guiding me!

Cpoyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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Hermit Crab

Scurrying across the ocean floor
leaving faint tracks in the sand
moving sideways to go forward
nothing mapped or even planned.

The sand is always shifting
ever changing the terrain
all creatures are in hiding
misdirected or insane.

Go on and on forever
waving claws in wild defense
abandoned ocean creatures know
that none of this makes sense.

Seaweed waving, beckoning
hypnotic dance of death
trust not the grinning clown fish
blowing bubbles with their breath.

The ancient crusty oyster shell
protects the tender meat
a grain of sand the irritant
spits pearls in mock defeat.

The current is relentless
overwhelming constant motion
and serenity's unheard of
at the bottom of the ocean.


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THE DARK SEA KISSED BY THE RADIANT MOONBEAMS

It's awfully quite at the end of August, placid fireflies
come out before the appearance of stars;
how tender, how beautiful are the rolling waves
in the dark sea kissed by the radiant moonbeams!



Absorbed in deep thought, I welcome another evening of solitude
with a peace that is more perplexing and intriguing than silence;
calmness stupefies, even more than the serenity inside...
do I need friends, if I have the company of the entire universe? 



Crystalline, clear water splashing and bubbling,
reaching the spot where I am profoundly thinking, 
bringing a soothing feeling after a very hot afternoon...
hoping not to lose the brilliance of the dotted moon!



Tired mind, rest and refresh yourself at sunrise,
detach yourself from the constant habit of searching and creating;
release the worries and rest, let fantasy spice up your fabulous stories...
thoughts that lead to pen, to finally become liberating!



On the glistening rocks, owls hoot in hunger and start attacking their preys...
the defenseless oysters try to get back into the salty water and be safe in the seaweeds,
but  they are caught by their claws, and with no strength left and blood in their eyes...
they die and their carcasses will be ripped apart and consumed by the ravens!   



Stop! Enough of this ugly spectacle! Let me turn the eyes to something truly delightful;
see the dark sea kissed by the radiant moonbeams to make this August' night really indelible!
A ship, with its thousands lights reflecting in the steady flow of the waves, is approaching;
the lighthouse's guard announces its arrival...oh, this scene is so fascinating! 


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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TEPID BREEZE, LULL ME TO SLEEP

Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep
on this grass softer than hay;
all the aches make my brittle bones weak,
they need rest, not asking my body to wander away... 


And if I fall asleep, I would like every star, spotting me.
to keep watch;  and should the owls, hiding amid the shadows
of the hickories, emit very scary and strange sounds
and fix their vicious eyes on me, angels will guard me...


No harm will come to me from those treacherous evil spirits,
and by just invoking His Holy Name, it will prevent any attack on me;
and my light can be seen from far, this light which strengthens me:
and while praying alone, I will hear the fluttering of cherubs' wings...


Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep,
and without the lovebirds' song, something must
replace that harmony when a sudden rush of fear:
slowly and uninvitingly seeps into my throbbing chest...


And would I let any noise spoil this peace,
to allow distrust lessen my courage and let hope cease?
I am endowed with  the faith of the martyrs that evil men are afraid of hearing;
come Satan, try to deceive me:  the Holy Spirit will abide with me 'till my awakening...


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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A guiding light!

Prism's shining
Guiding the way 
The haunting of horns 
On lighthouse bay!


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Sea and Solitude

Light in abalone
breaking iridescent skin
Know me or don't know me
but by all means, please let me in

Sea storm undercurrent
stirring swirls of liquid sand
Serve as my deterrent
as you take me by the hand~


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STUCK IN MUD

I had hoped to beat the violent storm's shooting hail,
struggling through falling branches, some broken and some whole;
my mutt with a rigid tail growled steadily and pinned his teeth to my jeans,
and I stuck in mud, vainly tried to break loose, but nobody heard my screams.


Trucks loaded with tar drove by and the burning smell made me terribly sick,
someone thought I was the farm's scarecrow and threw a beer can at me,
and he even hissed and cursed with a deriding tone for my disheveled shape;
I waved like humans do, but he thought the gusts had shaken my hands with frenzy.  


Lucky me it wasn't winter, the warmest wind slapped my unconsoled face,
naughty quails flew over to pick strawberries hanging from my torn hat;
all of a sudden a few became a herd, and my body was being mouled into pieces, 
and before I turned into rags and bruises, the farmer came running with his rake. 


And I stuck in mud, I yelled for help, then all the birds flew away with discontent,
the middle-aged farmer introduced himself with his sourthern friendliness;
what would I have cared about his hospitality, if he hadn't pulled me out of the dirt,
and hadn't taken me straight to the shower, and given me some clean clothes?    


This was my immediate need, and he saw it in my disgusted mood and slow thought,
and with his witty Tennessee accent, he addressed me as sir as if I were his officer superior;
respectable and kind, without prejudice for a yankee, he picked me up without effort,
and singing a country tune, he lied me down on the back seat without slamming the door.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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A BON VIVANT LIFESTYLE

A bon vivant lyfestyle 
of the Bohemians de Paris,
has always saddened and deluded me...
by seeing it in someone's happy smile.


Mademoiselles and jeunne hommes, 
exchanging artistic and poetical ideas
at the Cafe' de Flore, or at the Les Deux Magots...
with coffee aroma on their breaths.


Living in legendary and vibrant Hollywood 
is an honor to be seen with the admired and respected wealthy;
and whoever struggles, can't keep up with any of them...
whose only desire is the glitter of money.   


And steadily dreaming of a bon vivant lifestyle with an aloft
imagination, I let this want often disrupt my peaceful sleep...
not being able to accumulate, quickly enough,
fortunes and stand on that pedestal of greed.


So snap out of fantasy and don't peruse into La Dolce Vita
of Hollywood! Stay away from those extravagant fashion shows!
And at the Cannes, Capri or Venice Film Festival, avoid contact with movie stars,
stare at them from far...they are as contagious as influenza.


Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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My Filthy Fire


My ship of dreams I build no more
I hack to fragments my vain desire
To toss like trash and be ignored.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

To sail the seas and not return
My ship sinks in the straight of dire.
Its keel has split, its hull to burn
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

To hear the Sirens song too long
Uncharted seas with sails which tire.
With all my dreams and fancies gone
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

I pondered from my window long
And fanned my passion ever higher.
I cursed "His" name to sing my song.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

For fortuned Isles my eyes did cry.
My dreams I leave to whom I sire
For I am cremated before I die
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

Resurrecting souls my dreams has killed
To pull myself from deep quagmire.
To warm my heart which time has chilled.
Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.

It is for sure, not springtime here
Shorter days, how bare "His" trees.
Looking back pulls eyes to tear
For waste and loss of all my greed.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire
Now as to turn from what it seems
Left to me a works of priers
Never to sail my ship of dreams.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
Heap high this waifs, to be no loss.
No wisdom from my follies liar
Burn Oh! Burn you holocaust.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
My sins may perish with my ships.
To right my wrongs I now aspire.
So let them burn without my kiss.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
This cord of which I gladly burn
Dreams or follies of mud are mire
No loss to me and no concern.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
Stream me toward sweet isles of peace
Bright flash and gleam of my attire
Shall fall in lour of my decease.

Upon my filthy, driftwood fire.
When in my grave I take my task
Point for my Lord my vain desires
In chilling embers and cold gray ash.


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I EXIST FOR A PURPOSE

I have many qualities and talents 
that make me popular and likeable for my kindness,
and unpretentious gallantry;
ask me if I'm blue-blooded like the gentry!


I exist for a purpose and I intend reveal my cause;
honesty and shrewdness will guard me against errors...
do weeds grow in a well-maintained and embellished garden?
A grubby garden attracts gloominess, mine appeals to sunshine!


I have traveled down rough and dark roads,
grabbing the attention of bad-wishers,
who handed me gooseberries, not gorse;
it was a clumsy course swarming with rocks and thorns!


I exist for a purpose that puts fear into my unseen enemies,
who grumble and judge more than the-assumed-righteous-ones,
they are obsessed with their perfection and like to impose it on me;
but do they know that I control my destiny by spinning my fortune' wheel?


My belief is not to accept anything of worthless beauty,
I love to hide myself in the grain fields,and shake their stalks...
to celebrate a harvest more bountiful than sunflowers;
and I imagine myself gorging on fresh-baked bread daily!


O golden grains, your seeds satiate many that earn their hard living,
saying grace at mealtime...as God gives them His blessing;
and those hands that cut the husks off are much detested   
by the elite with a feeling of inferiority and a lack of gratitude!
    

I exist for a purpose to bring glory to the Heavens,
that magnificently dazzle upon me in times of desperate need;
pity is an unacceptable word whenever they attempt to make a deal;
I change no direction and try not to fall into the trap of moral weakness!


 Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci


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CULLERCOATS

CULLERCOATS   *

Warm  brown sandstone cottage walls 
Doors and  windows very old
Shelter face from  sea-wind squalls:
Inside, tales of sea are   told

Toy shops there with spinning  windmills
Fisher - women  selling show  me 
Big-clawed  crabs and  periwinkles:
Willicks and  pin  hinny?            *

Twisting road clings on with ease
To the cliff edge way up  high
Salty seaweed on the  breeze :
Speaks  of  rocks and sand and   sky

And though  just a tiny cove
It has  a  brand-new  shining  lifeboat
For  those who go to sea to rove: 
It tells of  men that cannot float

The fish,  the salt, the boat, the rock
The storms and wrecks and  tiny boats
I love to hear the fish-folk  talk  :
Their touching magic anecdotes


Notes   *

Willicks :  Geordie  argot  for  periwinkles.
The pin was needed to pry out the tiny fish from its shell.

Cullercoats is a small fishing village on the east coast of England, near Newcastle.


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VERY SICK OF THE FLU

I find hard to move around,
dragging my aching body,
unable to do even the simplest chores...
yes, I am very sick of flu:
it's something I can't undo!


I will not go to the hospital,
lie in a comfortable bed for hours,
coughing and sneezing waiting for a call...
while spreading this virus and infecting others.


I'm missing out on brisk walks  
that keep my immune system healthy,
and no blues frustrate me more than loneliness...
come spring and let joy renew itself in this memory.   

 
My remedy is Robitussin by far,
a miraculous cure for cold symptoms,
and since I can't go out, or drive my car...
I indulge myself in the creation lyrics.


It's my first day back to work,
I'm drinking coffee, and I shouldn't,
but these headaches won't go away...
unless I smell it, sip it and dream away.


Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci


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AN ICE STORM

Winter is slamming my lovely town with an ice storm,
giving it a resemblance of an alpine village
not nestled in pines, but with bigtooth aspens so tall; 
I should be at work today, not wallowing in rage.


The backyard trees are weighed down 
by the icy snow, and they are about to break;
using caution is to avoid a death-trap...
even a red-breasted blackbird uses intuition.


Winter is slamming my lovely town with an ice storm;
it once was so sunny with kids ridings on rolling skates,
before this dreadful wheather stepped in to punish them all,
taking charge and bringing, with its wrath, drastic changes.


Plenty of snow to shovel, until late night with a will so reluctant; 
my head hurts and my nose runs and sneezing is frequent...
I have a cold, and the remedy is tea with lemon and honey,
do you have any suggestions how to end my misery?


Winter is slamming my lovely town with an ice storm, repulsing spring's advances,
and February is a reputed villain conspiring, not making concessions;
impassive and imposing on a love-sick's kindness, worsening his stress.... 
to deny him empathy, embattling itself and not restoring calmness.


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Tourquoise Water

Swimming in the turquoise water
broad becomes my vision
Diving in the rippled metal
Clear is my decision
From afar I seem as just
a speck engulfed in liquid
but I know I'm not alone 
and that becomes my secret
Water gliding through my fingers,
dancing on my brow
Seaweed makes a stringy wreath,
a strange but regal crown
The surface skin has let me in
enveloped all my weight
Turquoise water in my veins
floating out in space...


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If you are the ocean 2

 So  quiet the tidal blue pooled eye,

what seashell dreams lie on this oceans' floor?

what jagged stones of grief and love and hate,

are tossed and smoothed 

before they go ashore?

  and far below the surface of your soul

what pearl like dreams are shut tight

from the sun?

in every part the ocean is a whole

there is no end,

where nothing has begun.








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Kiss of the Virgin Surfer

Fallen into pools of blue
with salty water clipped and froth
You want to breathe as the fishes do
electric eels, eccentric shock
Sifting through sand in transit
feet turned to fins in black
Shoreline eclipsed by a crested wave
Nod to the sun, there's no turning back
Paddle like pipeline awaits you
Shoulders taut, sun bleached out hair
Twisted in torso and strong in belief
that the wave of all waves is out there
Break into barreling cobalt
Shake off the spray from your face
The sea spits you out in the ride of your life
You slide onto land with a smoldering grace
Sleep with the movement of currents
Dreams rich in bubbles and bliss
Engulfed in the shadow of wishes and waves
The sea silent now with the weight of your kiss...


Details | Quatrain | |

Atmospheric Disturbance

The world is at stake on a whim and a break
of the bow that supports all the stars
A crack of the joints right at gravity's points
and we slip like mere dust straight to Mars
A taste of the red just goes straight to our heads
now as dry as the parched sun at noon
Spinning blue orbit - take a moment, absorb it
for delirium will set in quite soon
The lunar light glow that we all love and know
is now but a glint off the sea
Echo explosion, a torrential implosion
of the atmosphere where we used to be...


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ON THE WIND'S CURRENT

On the wind's current,
face-swept and braving fret;
I push forward...facing a tough day,
never fainthearted: merrily drifting away!


I challenge my strength,
to fuse more enthusiasm;
to beat the puzzled clouds with ingenuity,
and they, frustrated, initiate a plot against me!


I laugh, making them infuriated,
and they respond with stronger blows;
thinking they can't be imitated!
Don't they know that I watch all their moves?


Call me a marine or a sky-diver,
I may not look too convincing for a liar;
the open sky lets me on the wind's current,
lifting me off the earth to deliver my stunt!


Where are my rivals?  Are they hiding or 
planning my imminent defeat?
I may be too naive to cheat,
but I am as swift as a hunting panther!


On the wind's current so rough,
aware and attentive, I make my living;
chasing the fearless eagles with a bluff,
vulnerable...yes, but unafraid and willing! 
   

Copyright by Andrew Crisci


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The Sea is a Mistress

The mighty vessel outward sailed
Unto the vastness of the sea
Where, lingering moon and vibrant sun
Cast brightest blue and vivid green

The splendid ship named SeaSpray Sway
Held captive men to sailors make
For to the sea they made their vows
And of their hearts, the sea did take

For fifteen days so lost at sea
Their rations dwindled and spirits died
Deaths occurred and fights ensued
Until, from crows nest, land was spied 

No land as wondrous as they found
For carried them to there, the tide
Though seeking life from solid ground
They’d not give up the sea, their bride


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The Perfect Place

Extended there to greet the horizon
A jetty formed with rocks, in sea
A place to retreat, to find true peace
It feels as if it was meant for me

Well, in fact, it is there for the many
Climb and walk, feel sun and mist
Stand upon the tip to witness
Sun descends, the sea gets kissed

The jetty, there, children fish from
Lines are cast, hopes are set
Smiles, broad, as reeled in catches
Give meaning to the effort’s sweat

The many that traverse the formation
Have stories then to tell and share
Memories of days when all was perfect
Memories of days without a care


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Sea, She Loves Me

With forceful currents there, possessed
She pushed me fast to shore
As winds had stirred up, at my back
The sea provided cure

My voyage ended weeks ago
When the homeward ship went down
With prayer and hopes, a dingy afloat
She would not let me drown

Nor be shark bait, a worm on hook
The sea kept me alive
With nature’s course, on current float
I was not meant to die

She placed me on a sandy beach
Upon the break of day
The sea, she kept an eye on me
And taught me how to pray