A nation of peace,a nation of pride
A nation that's spread far and wide.
A nation of hope,a nation of joy,
Thats free for all, man,women ,girl and boy.
A nation to give,a nation to take
A nation filled with reggae,socca,calypso and rake and scrape.
A nation of colors; black,gold,aqua....sometimes called blue
can be seen everywhere above land and under sea too.
A nation of democracy and old english style,but things sure have changed if you
look up our file.
From outside rock stoves,to TV,radio,computers and wi-fi connectivity.........
I'd say that a long way from July 10 1973.
An nation filled with hospitality,love and history,
Arawaks,Caribs and American Indians are the basis of our nationality.
A nation where Tourism is number one, because of the Bounty of sand sea and sun.
Yes,a nation of Youth,sports ,culture,uniqueness and island fashion trends,
Like native Androsia our own local blend......and straw work and junkanoo,the list has no end.
This nation of beauty,splendor and self defense ;yes its celebarting its own INDEPENDENCE.
Copyright © Quentin Sands | Year Posted 2008
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.
Copyright © Carol Eastman | Year Posted 2012
Pumping black blood
Sea life falls dead with a thud
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
Copyright © Robb A. Kopp | Year Posted 2010
Drink the drink, and take the pills, lay on the medication.
But your soul's forever lost to them without persistent dedication.
There's things we've learned, and things we will, to decide us right from wrong.
But your ears are only open, now, to a techno-logic song.
Social norms have bound you tight, then cut you awf'ly deep.
And still your soul beneath the surface begs of you, relief.
You waded in their welcome waters, thought it nice and cool
But now I'm sure you've figured out you're lost in sorrows pool
So take it from who knows you best
Someone who has passed this test:
Before you drift out in the sea
And the shore's no longer in your view,
I promise that I'll bring you back
And if I can't, I'll follow you.
Before your legs and arms grow weak
And you've passed your final tier,
I promise that I'll hold your hand;
I promise you I'll still be here.
Before your lungs are filled with water
And our souls are parted once again,
I promise you that you're forgiven;
I promise you I'm still your friend.
Before you close your sunken eyes
Inviting night to kill the day
Know your bright was never slight
And soon you'll see your way.
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2012
My heart egos and my life drained from me
Simple life I live, I act as I know all
But I know not, no, not even a little
I earnestly seek for recognitions
But my life and my heart is a hole.
An empty vessel, soulless, loveless
I have been succumb by the pain of heart aches
I have become a broken man,
Know not what my future holds
I envy those who went before me, who were acknowledge
I hold on to the little shred of hope in me,
I am being drowned by my own sorrows.
Love, hate, a new beginning and ending of my old self never seems to happen
My wrath against my enemies is nothing for they humor me with insults.
Let not death come to me in misery and despair,
For life is full of joy and full of sorrows.
Love me, as who would love a stranger from nowhere.
Let my sorrows be taken away by the love of many
But at last, no one would.
Don’t cry for me, for no one knows me
They came before my grave and said “who is this man?”
“Why is the name not written?”
It is not written because I am nothing
Don’t shed a tear for the stranger such as me.
Life is like a dream on a calm sea,
As the captain gracefully steer and gently moves its rudder.
The passenger puts their lives in his hands,
A calm sea is the heaven of any sailor.
“So, where is my captain?”
The wind blows every so gently,
But my heart sinks gently into the sea;
Who will mourn for the stranger?
Drowned from my grief,
My faith begins to waver like a ship tossed around by the winnowing wind
My heaven, my calm sea turns against me as I sail the Galilean sea
“Where are thy words that calm the raging storm?”
Ay! I have no peace even in my passing.
I have not thy words of command,
For my faith has been tossed away by the hating winds,
Shallow, empty, and broken I lay here in an unnamed grave.
Only thy mercy will guide me to the third heaven!
Let my sorrows be washed away by the blood of the innocent lamp.
Let thy words be the honey drops for mine,
As this world knows only lies
Blinded by greed and lust,
They seek only to destroy of what they fear.
And my sorrows are tossed away by thy promises.
For thy compassion for lost sheep is great.
"Have I found peace?"
I have, for I know my heart is at rest when my body has aged
And my salvation has come
When I died with thy Words of truth
Copyright © LIde Sangtam | Year Posted 2012
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010
Between The Devil and The Sea
( Scylla and Charybdis )
Cosmetic the creature cover girl
is accessible only at night
a picture female in her temple
laying askew on an alter ego
A de lux harlot in romantic rough house
a fetish target
frivolous nymphet with a rampant phallus
And the sinister will follow strictly incognito
In her sticky sexual paradise
blond peroxide sensuality comes by proxy
No virtues abashed
a blow up doll as she lays in prostrate sultry action
her deflowering for titillation
she is said to have a thing for perversion
this ageless angelica this strip teaser
the Molotov cocktail of her own euphoria
Down in the bawdy boulevard men ape their ardour
all mouth to mouth with the call girl
a fondle or a blatant grope
She’s a clock work courtesan to keep her from destitution
to feed the kids she considers herself to be an acquisition
smiling for the gratuitous exhilaration of playing the other woman
vogue with her etiquette indiscreet in the burlesque
self esteem is held between the food the warmth
and not much else
Copyright © colin mitchell williams | Year Posted 2008
That half grown chrysanthemums/
Stirring up like accuser's.
Life is compared with what two things ?
Which do you think is the richer more revealing comparison ?
Poets use many symbols/
Geese flying south can be a symbol,
Of that of approaching winter/
Heart's symbolize love,
In this brief expanse we call life,
One may want to cry out in a revolt ?
Other's simply take in a breathe of fresh air/
Ponder that many other's that don't even care ?
We all must become united in this great cause !
Not to use this concept loosely/
Yet to humbly ponder a thought,
What do you all think tells a more detailed story ?
The poem or the picture ?
Love can grow out of a billowing cry/
Perhaps a cut nor a mere stye in the eye ?
The seventies had embarked on this journey/
Not to mention that of Timothy Leary ?
This took us to a vast opened door !
To break on through to the other side/
Lest I emplore,
Still we have every bit of reason in which to grasp/
That lattice decor to that shine on the asp,
A sweet juice filled with fine honey nectar/
The future resources,
Allow the creative poet/
To begin to explore the valley of much more !
In gaining the proper word/
Fresh out of the Autumn air !
Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2010
"What's your story?"
"you seem interesting."
I reply, "NOW." (Kwan$aba! Ha! Really,
often people become confused
by such a unique response
not this one...
she's a beauty
shiny minded stone
lives warm under veins
lacks definition of alone
tho solo she stands
tallest green blade
each time the oily blade passes above
she stays the same
tingling pulses exhale her pores
she'd rather sink
than have to think the way of worldly whores
malice skips her
no ripples in the lake
dripping from her face
sunshine slips across tangerine cheeks
gold flows throughout waves
sky clear eyes surprise those
choosing to be consumed
by her entice
hands free of envy
no webs to spin
she will divide you
or silly twisted games
though safe may escape you
baby of zero maybes
as clarity lent us its giant umbrella
her lipstick smacked my tongue
we never looked back
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012
I do not know?
We are Tausug Nation
Free from the enemies
Stood not to get oppressed
Our Nation ruled
Of the country’s independence
Never conquered from then
We shall develop our land
Our country, nation is known
Home of courageous person
Bound only in one faith
Never care of the death
Tumantangis, Dahu peaks of our land
To Bagsak, Sinumaan
And to all the mountains here
Only one God is aimed
Zamboanga, Basilan, North Borneo, Palawan
Centre is in Sulu land
Ruled by the Sultan
From the early point of time
Our nation is united
In the name of faith is complete
Only God is firm
Determined not to get conquered
Land of the pearl garden
Sulu Sea in the world is famous
From the South and North
And East and West
Blood of Martyrs flowed in the vein of the Sug Nation
Fought to defend
Flag rose like Vinta strip
Eternal pledge appeared
Copyright © Neldy Jolo | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
for bruce springsteen...
it was a rain-swept monsoon day
way back then, so many moons away
when i felt the music strumming in my veins
setting me free like a runaway horse without any reins
you sang of simple truths,
your verse spoke to people just like me
in my lonely, wasted, and desolately quiet night
as you screamed out tragic human wrongs, and of everyone's plight
'bobby jean' spoke to me
of that girl down the street
glimpses of whom, we as innocents would furtively meet
and 'the river' that flowed through my ever-barren heart
led me down further roads of thunder
when slowly i finally learnt that the hardest part was fighting on
and never to surrender
to the hard-luck dreams that were born to run
while i danced in the dark
with memories vivid and stark
even as i whined like that dog who for forever lost his howling bark
and then a 'human touch' came along
and 'better days' seemed real, not just words in a song
and still you sang and swayed and spoke straight into my unseeing eyes
as gardens of secrets were opened, and as your fist punched the skies
in an anger that i too felt and in whose cauldron i too burned
as we saw murder get incorporated, while on its wobbly axis, our fragile world apathetically turned
and then suddenly i was told that i was all grown up
working on a highway of scattered ideals
and absolving myself by sprinkling some coins in a waiting cup
well, after all these years of walking along so many a thorny road
with an armour of your verse covering me, even as i hear them taunt me and even as they continue to goad
but now i can feel myself fading away, into the bleakness of this coming night
just like the ghost of that old tom joad...
Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013
is someone eles's son
(shield your eyes)
shrug off hate
been here before
thousands of nights
the ocean shore
coasts are changing
hate and fear
must now resign
connect the dots
move my child
tame the shy
wake the wild
relayed from the miser
obstructing the wiser
the hydrogen burns
each time earth turns
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
In Liverpool, England, there is one street containing
all the Chinese restaurants, side to side, back to back
and stinking drain to sea.
where once a year, twirling dragons pierce the afternoon air,
passing old men with suits and moneyed-hands, their
young thugs standing close with tatooed skin.
the crowd, mostly mums and dads and tots in prams, heaves
like weed on a Kowloon sea...hungry for the firecracker
bangs and dim-sum smells and potted green tea.
this riot of shifting colour drags and pushes at the cobbled
road underfoot, as the dragon takes another bag of pak choy
greens placed ten foot high, while the lithe boys dressed in
kung fu black and draped with skill, reach up to pluck the
fiscal bunch and pass it down, hand to hand, out of sight,
to the flashing, bouncing jaws beneath
and soon the fire cracker thunder and emptied shops
call the street to book: and a carnage of paper to-go boxes
and spilt terror join with the bars' beery breath
saying...go home now Englishmen, you are not our brothers,
this is our place not yours..go home til next year
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
Long love day's has past.
My mind felt with howling storms,
grasping to hold on to vanishing love.
Rape and abandon my weary soul
transpires, poring with instant fires.
Oh this dark secret love does thy life
Like amorous birds of pray,
Once ways, and known devoured
Your beauty no more to befound
nor shall the sound of your voice.
Love to dust, love to ashes.
Our love has now gone to a private place.
The grave yard of love.
Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2008
“ the problem with Equality is that we desire it only with our superiors”
“Equal were all and happy they all were,
Deceits and falsehoods were unheard of there,
Free from all illness, cares and infant deaths
No one came to harm and none spoke untruths”
This was what obtained in a strip of land
Called Kerala flanked by mountains and sand
Gifted to ‘Nakas’ by the God of Sea
Cornucopia land it grew to be
Under a demon-king’s fair and just reign
Who, to do things unrighteous, did not deign
‘Maaveli’ his name and revered by all
In wisdom and charity he stood tall.
Gods grew jealous as his fame spread thick
The poor king lost to a Lord-Vishnu-trick;
Banished to ‘Paathal’, but with a reprieve
He could, a welcome, in his land ,receive
On Thiruonam day once in a year
Whose festivities last for ten days clear.
Feasts for all and dances and swings for gals
All rough sports for lads as the big day calls
By patterns made of blooms are courtyards decked
To laud the trickster and welcome the tricked.
‘Brotherhood and Love for all’ is its theme
Classless, contented society its dream.
U.S.P. now to make tourism sell,
An epicurean splurge does it spell.
Some go hungry even on ONAM day,
To remove starvation, is there no way?
Inspired by: Dr. Ram Mehta’s Shadormas on Kerala’s ONAM carnival.
1. The first stanza is an approximate translation of the most popular Onam song.
2. Nakas: Local Chieftains , pious, righteous and warrior-like, who ruled the littoral hilly regions when the sea ( sea God, really) withdrew some distance and gave the land thus born ( Kerala) as a gift to them.
3. Paathal: One of the fourteen worlds, according to legend
4. Lord-Vishnu-trick: The Lord came to the king in the guise of a short statured priest asking for a piece of land, small enough for him to take just three steps. As the charitable king agreed, the guest grew in stature and covered all earth with his first two steps and stood asking him for space to take his third and final step. The king, rendered landless by now , offered his bowed head for the Lord’s third step which He duly took and in the process pushed the king down to Paathal
5. Thiruonam: A day that comes annually in the month of Chingam, which extends from mid-August to mid-September.
6. U.S.P: Universal selling proposition
Contest : A Poem please Of Constance La France~A Rambling Poet
By: S.Jagathsimhan Nair, 30-8-2011
Copyright © S.Jagathsimhan Nair | Year Posted 2011
I do not know?
water melon in my garden
like the sun and moon
steady my hand
tending the weeds
near a row of beans
a far away land
”...it’s not a good time…”
so I wondered
and thought of when
wars are just plays
staged in the hands
of writers like me…
I’d arm the nations
with radish leaves
squash for bullets
that unload seeds
on my jelly spread
I’d share the health
giving lettuce, head…
”... is it a good time now?...”
who wants a cow
in crowded pens
glitters the water
between the corn
I’d sale on ships
into rosebud shores
and i’d grow my fish
in between the stores
”...I’m god in my garden…”
and I divide the rows
soing what suits me
in tomato groves
and near my basil
I’ll build a school
teaching the mint
just how to be cool
and over hear
the potatoes anchor
on stalks of beer
read booms of cheer
...but they say I’m mental.
are sooo good in soup!
I declare are true!
I only cook
When I brew my stew…
and no one regrets
in the garden of Sue.
I was Just
Making sure of you.
Copyright © Izzy Gumbo | Year Posted 2010
My home state loses a football field,
Of coastal land each day of the year.
I’m no cheerleader about this,
It fills my heart with fear.
I wish I had funds to donate to the cause.
Maybe if I expressed my thoughts of the situation,
It would cause others to pause.
As the pelicans swim to the beat,
Of their inward drum,
And contribute to the state,
That many other states of the union,
Were carved from.
Way back before humans existed,
Our dear state Louisiana was merely sea floor.
If we humans that exist today,
Don’t get serious about this erosion problem,
The state where jazz was born,
Will be sea floor once more.
Our coastal industries, beautiful magnolia trees,
And the capital of the Old South,
Will no longer exist.
We won’t be able to reminisce about anything,
If our hindrance persists.
Like bacteria attacks a cell,
Our precious land is being attacked as well.
Like our educated out migrants,
Land is leaving without being replaced.
Saving this land helps us ecologically:
This includes the human race.
Please fellow residents and people who once,
Or never lived here before.
Fill Louisiana’s heart with cheer,
By contributing to this worthy cause.
If one can’t give monetarily,
He or she should then take a pause.
Be creative and think of other ways,
That one is able to help this wonderful state.
We would certainly appreciate anything you do,
To help us out.
I know the pain of the land will be eased,
Without a doubt.
Our state has faith in us as we have faith in it.
Let us not only be cheerleaders, but star players.
So that our precious land can stay strong,
Throughout its layers.
This erosion problem can be very costly:
Climatic changes, loss of land, animal and plant species,
And human lives are just a few.
Please help save our wetlands,
Because it is part of the old and of the new.
Wrote November 2003 almost exactly 2 years before Hurricane Katrina,
while student @ ULM and concerned about the issue, as a student and scientist the topic of
New Orleans going under and the Mississippi River flow and creation of Louisiana was talked
about since I was in elementary school in the mid '80s was a main topic of concern for the
gubernatorial election held that year, and during that political official's term as governor,
Hurrican Katrina hit, Louisiana politics I tell you- they simply tell people what they want to
Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2009
Society, community, society, community.
You can leave now and let me be.
I will swim free, free in your sea.
Your sea? your sea, polluted now, Oh you will never see.
Broken hearts, bodies too, beloved inner child, I love you.
Breathe, breathe, breathe.
Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.
I know now that this is all I need.
To be. To be. That is all, just Be.
Burn your toys, television too, kill the car, the radio.....
Unleash, unravel, these boys, disentangle, unblock, reset there mind, please sir,
could you be so kind?
Simplicity, Simplicity, simplicity.
Eye's clenched shut.
Now I know, Alone in my hut, not long to go, you will be free.
Free. free. free.
Buy the car, buy the house, buy the cow, consume, consume, but how?
Now, now, you tell me are you happy? for ever and art thou.
Ah ha, you see, you see.
Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.
That is all I need, I choose now, my self is free?
Yes, yes, yes sir, me?
Free to sit, sit and just be.
Me? Free? free to swim in this endless blue sea?
I will just sit, sit right here, against this healing earth, oh so very near.
My mind is liquid, free to birth.
Just be. Just Be. Just Be.
Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity.
Copyright © Heydon Bunting | Year Posted 2010
A tribe of black swan
Does an ethnic dance in cool
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2006
Sifting warm sand
through my fingers
lustrous fine grains
glitter my palm.
by the soft powdery touch,
I sit for a while
under the rocks
My bare feet
swirl patterns in the sand
as I idly watch
a beach life unfold
Bustling mother’s set up home
on plaid blankets
colourful beach bags
thick with togs and towels
strewn all around
a picnic stored carefully
under a shady umbrella,
they gather the children
skip giddy with glee
on lithe limbs
with index finger
of do's and don'ts.
My gaze drifts to
little pink sisters,
their chubby faces
alive with imagination
as nimble bodies
straddle the sand,
all wrapped up
in mounds of castles
studding their dreams
with pearly shells
and whispering tales
of pretty princesses.
At the water’s edge
long legs prancing
tip toeing warmth
into the chilly sea
up to their waists in
dipping and diving,
an ocean of laughter
as young lads play
splashing and yelling
a ball in the air
Picking up my sandals,
I walk up the beach
under the bridge
past crimson valerian
It’s balmy perfume
scenting a delicious day
Copyright © Eiken Laan | Year Posted 2011
A lonesome dove
The branch strong,
really blowing a sweet breeze.
A heart beat sitting in a tree,
Copyright © Marrio Biggs | Year Posted 2011
Desert met Ocean
Wet mirage, parched reflection
Copyright © Katie Mitchell | Year Posted 2009
I do not know?
Man to blame,
Once again to his shame,
His record continues to destroy !
The beauty he did not create, nor can he save…
He will never learn how to properly behave…
Nature screams pointlessly once again ?
Fearing where next we’ll drill ?
Gulf oil spill.
Copyright © William Arthur Tell | Year Posted 2010
taking me where e're you can.
A place to rest, relaxing, fun,
whether in wind, storm, rain or sun.
To go any where we want to roam,
to take a break away from home.
Be it inland, town, woods or sea;
hills or vales, you'll shelter me.
Copyright © Anna-Marie Docherty | Year Posted 2009
He was renowned for farming
ploughing lands as large as atlantic
but his harvests he keeps beyond the sea
beyond the sea all he got
Down here, his roof leaks
his town roads untared
they make use of his wealth
to paint their town more white
he thinks his wealth is safe
but the value they use
promising him security and secrecy
to shut their mouth from his people
his pots occupied
by cockroach and rats
as had been aboandoned by his wife
his children grow everyday
developing big belly and head
He goes back to use ibeleju as lamp
but he claims to be rich
his children goes fishing to pay their fees
the school fees he has refused to pay
they built a school for their wards
and beg them to look inside papers
nobody pays a penny
those are the people beyond the sea
his wealth is intact
but had been used
times without number for their anuual budget
they beyond the seas
Worms leak his intestine
and his offsprings from six to two
he took their looks to the people
the people beyond the sea
they gave him a name "Malaria"
Malaria took them all
contented he came
carring no less for his kwashiokor wards
His bicycle like buried iron
yet he appears before his kinsmen
to speak in language that tingles
they smirk at him
though the gods let him live
his expliots and wealth
managed and utilized by the people
the people beyond the sea
he claims to be learned
while they have brain washed him
he trusted them
and left our heritage
the gods forbide
our black heritage
that our fathers died to protect
like our brotherly love
that forbade greed
he forgot our maxim
that of Unison
him that our fathers gave the "Ofor"
the Ofor that represents power
power to protect our interest
our black interest
the gods bear us witness
witness of our unquenched suffering
starving in front of plenty
plenty at the so called bank
banks beyond the sea banks
the name for their civilised theft
theft because they use the value
the value of your wealth
to reinforce themselve
the Ofor has fallen
from his hands
the gods has departed from him
but he will not believe
our chambers now lagoons
lagoons from the light shawers
our tables now canoes
and soup spoons paddle
mosquitoes now our pets
nursing our children
our working age amended
starting from 6 to sleep
our heads now bald
not from age
but from fetching water
water from the eden
Copyright © Magnus Nwagu Amudi Esq | Year Posted 2007
Those wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.
The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled upon.
Two and a half miles have gone,
Into the waters we sail on,
Squealing and giggling in delight,
Adrenalin pumped up and over excite.
The motor the sailor cuts off,
Over and over with a bit of scoff,
The dolphins they say swim and are gone
By the dull sounds of the motor whirr &drone.
Waves they splash frothy sprays
On the bodies bathed in hot sunrays,
Shrills cries of joy erupt,
From us sightseers eight on a glimpse of dolphins seen abrupt.
The wet bath suits and sun tans,
Some with hand held beer cans,
Watch the dolphins frolic in the sea
Cavorting in graceful curves both she and he.
The sailor maneuvers you to the place
Of marine life ,pelagic birds his boat with grace,
The sight of these magnificent mammals,
Feeding and playing their bodies look coated with enamel.
The thrill so great just to watch,
These mammals is just top notch
This pod of dolphins swim away,
We watch through misty sea sprays.
Salty breeze seep in our hair,
Smiling sun shines on our burnt backs bare,
The dull sounds of engine power,
The enchanting sounds of rythimic waves in my ears still hover.
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
Copyright © sashi prabhu | Year Posted 2012
BLACK TEXAS TEA, NO FISH can SEE
We Want to KNOW what WE DONE to THEE
Charlie Tuna wants to STRIKE
Along with Catfish Mike
Though PROHIBITED by KING Of SEA
Copyright © cecil hickman | Year Posted 2010
Roots of brothers’ enmity
Days of thunder rise
When skin and classes
Did society divide
Into angry masses.
Of prejudice impasses
Bursting into fire
A powerful dynamite
In fatal crossings like
Those of sea lasses*.
Fire raced worldwide
In tragic menaces
For their trespasses.
World yet divided
Historical enmity clashes
Rooting in the first crime
Abel and Cain’s buried ashes.
* Sea Lasses is a metaphor for cruise ships like the Titanic.
Copyright © Caroline Cécile Delacroix | Year Posted 2009
the bowl aquarium
i can hear fish breathe with me
beneath the ocean
Copyright © Ernesto P. Santiago | Year Posted 2007
I'll bid you adieu on the shore
waiting for destined waves to swallow
in a feeble attempt to follow
emotions for ever more
Copyright © Brandon Basson | Year Posted 2006