Sestina Sea Poems | Sestina Poems About Sea

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Details | Sestina |

A Boatful of Hope

Day has sunk and the old fisherman, like a well-trained athlete, rows his rugged boat.
Defying starry night's turbulent waves,
It cruises seaward, smooth and swift, like an agile proud fish.

Then, into his net a shooting star drops; hauls he a thousand delicate, bright starfish.
Guided by remaining stars, he comes home with a boatful
Of glimmering soft, fleshy crystals of hope to his daughter's eager waving

At the murky, starless bay. Her voice rushes out in tidal sound-waves.
She puts a finger in, fishing
One live hope, stellar and warm, out of what used to be a champion's sailboat.

Rocking the boat and making waves, their laughter splashes like a floundering fat fish.

(Form: loose tritina)

Copyright © Adam Adhistian | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sestina |

Cross Species Awareness

Cross Species Awareness

Beneath a calm ocean, man watches a shark.
They are same in size, but one has advantage.
Man is wearing a wet suit and long swim fins.
Shark is naked and is not bearing its teeth.
Water passes silently through gills of stealthy predator.
Bubbles rise from apparatus of explorer.

A camera and lights fill hands of explorer.
Teeth and cunning fill front of shark.
Black tiger stripes and dark eyes of predator 
intensify beauty and exclaim an unrevealed advantage.
Locked behind its inquisitive nature are rows of sharp teeth.
It circles the diver, dipping and bending its fins.

A menacing fin on its back and long pointed side fins, 
the shark does not appear as clumsy as explorer.
A man clamps on to breathing device with his teeth, 
watching effortless movements of a curious shark.
There seems to be some wariness in the predator.
Its large dark eyes seem to measure any advantage.

Any threat to the sea’s occupant is from surface advantage.
The wary man’s feet rest on white sand trapped in fins.
He could kick and flap beneath waves, but is no predator.
He is either a very brave or very stupid explorer.
If the sea is a playground or battlefield it belongs to the shark.
If it decides, the king of the deep can bear its teeth.

It can open its gaping mouth and expose rows of teeth.
It can clamp on to soft flesh with an easy advantage.
Such things happen often in the life of a shark.
It swipes its tail side to side and climbs and dives with fins.
The only help for the diver is another explorer.
A spear gun or repellant may offend the predator.

There is not much comfort offending such a predator.
It will only find another place to sink its teeth.
It is a distracting thought for an underwater explorer,
to learn and gain knowledge under this creature’s advantage.
It may not speak; it doesn’t have hands, but does well with fins.
Ruling the depths, it is a majestic presence this shark.

A vicious predator with acute senses and sharp teeth, 
the shark patrols oceans riding currents with strong agile fins.
The explorer has the advantage of meeting it at peace.

If you are intrigued by this work read and review G. D. Master’s book, “Interpretations,” free in PDF format on Simply enter “gd master” or “interpretations” in the search bar of SmashWords to find it.

Copyright © Graphite Drug | Year Posted 2016

Details | Sestina |


The sunniest island,
with its Sea Stacks standing out
of the Tyrrhenian Sea,
shimmers as sailboats glide
in timeless serenity...
Paradise's duplication in man's heart.

Winter brings no drifts of snow,
only mild breezes from Sicily,
and the tourist is always on the go,
exploring, discovering and wondering 
how this small island came to be...
when God stopped and began creating.

The sunniest island
with pastel houses perched on cliffs edges,
and ruins of castles and villas on rocky hills;
the loveliest island
in the Mediterranean garden...terraces
decked with common brooms and oleanders.

And as the mists vanish towards evening,
the quails are seen flying above, while the lemons' 
perfume is hard to resist...the beautiful landscapes are revealed;
sail away in the bluest sea ever seen by the human's eye...
spend the starriest night gazing over its glistening waves:
a traveler's dream realized in the sunny island of Capri!

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
don't be hasty to engulf silence 
as the chapel's choir engages in a spiritual oratorio praising Him;
an octave higher or lower brings
their inspirational hymn to a desired sound of felicity...
those tones that the loud organ makes!

We, as they, are lifted by the sustenance of faith,
too pure and orthodox to extinguish our oneness of spirit;
adhering to rigid standards and beliefs...forbidding sin
to feed on its vain opprobrium and oppress purity!
We, as they, dwell in this oracle to outshine indefinitely,
and outreach every unreachable and unconquerable limit!

Sails gliding on the shimmering sea,
watch the advancing sunrays osculate the waves of the harbor,
and the optical images that reality conveys!
See the ospreys which learn their skill by osmosis...
that even the ovenbirds can't acquire;
hear the believers's proclamation presaging and predicating unity!

Irreverent  and doubtful soul, don't pursue vanity:
don't be similar to a prancing horse that surprises the rider;
don't prattle when foolishness becomes a hangover!
You have put too much effort into exhibiting your valor...
hardly serving a purpose and be totally useful;
be like the sails gliding on the shimmering sea!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


Huddled among massive rocks,
at the bottom of a barren cliff,
breathing in the strongest aroma of jasmines,
watching hordes of seagulls hover over an abandoned ship;
pensively and attentively spending peaceful times by calm river,
geese see me and slowly approach me to share some of this enthralling wander!

The flow of the river is constantly intriguing,
sometimes slow, other times rushing in the manner of a surge,
making the passing barges resemble timber floating
to their unknown destination, unless the currents change
and they will be crashing on the sandy blanks to dry out and decay;
the same fate awaits the fowls when their bodies become old and die!

Rare beauty I ravishingly behold while my attention is not swayed,
the thickness of the trees won't let the eyes penetrate their wilderness beyond,
only the restless ravens know their habitat and venture themselves in those woods;
I am groped by their mystery, but I dare not enter into the untamed animal' world,
as the woodpeckers continue making their noises to scare away any possible predators...
while moans of creatures are heard: are they attacked by wild dogs, or ferocious wolves?  

The glow of the descending sun diminishes and a chill pervades my body,
my Windbreaker is the perfect attire to wear, and not make me feel the breeze's coolness;
the darker colors appearing above give indication of the arrival of a spectacular sunset,
those hues change brightness, and somehow seem to vanish as clouds impose their treat...
a storm wind coming, or is nature imitating our human nature to take control of destiny,
to spoil my peaceful times by this calm river...shouldn't I be angered by their hostility?  
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


I ask for nothing,
just relying on Providence;
surprisingly I will experience
an enriching event
that fate has sent...
does anybody wonder why I sing?

I age, and furthermore I feel younger;
wrinkles appear to attest their reminder
that my troubles are of another sort,
and despite more unpleasant occurrences confirming my tort:
these upheavals are raging storms that will soon pass,
and this phase is the ultimate test!

Destiny, unfold this enriching event,
and usher in an age of contentment;
the vitality of these years don't reflect fragility:
resolute and strong, hopeful and diligent...
I can face any hurdle and defy tragedy,
and the hardest challenge is finding trust!  

An enriching event was predicted in my natal chart  
and astrologers are putting much effort in their research,
to assure me that a better tomorrow is coming;
and should I place my total trust in them,
and catch a rare glimpse and be content...
but Who has given me a last chance at living?

I could never be guided by the unpredictable stars,
what I am amazed about them:  is their mysterious glimmer,
but fortune and wealth is the damnation of the sinner,
of that one cursing God for all the plagues and sorrows
inflicted upon punish them for all that was taken without honor
and appreciation;  and wouldn't they envy the one opening the golden door?

My harvest is finally ripe, and spacious fields offer their abundant fruits,
every bird has a more sonorous song to make me feel vibrantly alive:
o larks and nightingales, let your joyful ode reach the Heavens above!
My blessings have been too numerous to be counted and this joy exalts 
Him with a gratefulness that is equal to every breath I inhale and exhale;
when peace blends with silence:  a realistic Heaven is an enriching event!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


A calm morning with the nippiest breeze of October,
the moss-covered rocks shed the surf:
as it is thrown back into the tumultuous surge,
and on the glimmering and soggy sand... 
the writhing shellfishes won't survive without the salty water;
they will helplessly hang on life, only to perish on land!  

With wool gloves and cap I'm still cold,
and still my skin is exposed to sunburn;
a motorboat crosses the hazy horizon,
emitting a sharp blast from its noise horn,
but the silent sea-gulls lack the urge to flutter away,
there in throngs they fight off the chilly day!

Sullen as a turbid ocean, I tumble down the soaked dunes,
slammed hard by a ferocious wind not offering solace;  
I swirl in agitation reaching for my warm cap,
which gently lands into an abandoned basketball's net!
Why is everything so tuneless as the surly larks...
the sluggard's eyes snap with anger as a hound barks!   

The early sunset turns crimson, then gradually swarthy,
warning the haggard fisherman to pull the fishing rod
out of the foul make him feel too forlorn;
suddenly...the windstorm increases the swelling of the rolling waves,
and the beach-goer, so serene and supine, has to leave hurriedly:
this was a remote refuge for his earnest prayers and quite thoughts!

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


When love was innocently
given and this once gorgeous boy, merely fourteen,
choose a red-haired girl 
to be his special friend;
he offered her a smooch sweeter than honey, 
to find delight on her rosy cheek... 

She smiled back and shyly kissed me,
I plucked a blue lily from a meadow painted in green,
and put it in her soft hair resembling Autumn's auburn leaves;
some warm raindrops fell on her brown eyes so pretty,
decorating her lovely face with happy tears:
while a robin, with yellow wings, spied on us with curiosity...

Sweetheart, you certainly were surprised and much pleased
by the performance of my first, phenomenal kiss,
which lasted longer than it should have, indeed;
you thought I wasn't old enough to feel both affection and bliss:  
without knowing the meaning of their profundity,
but I felt a desire that couldn't wait until I reached puberty....  
My adorable darling, adolescence has endured, not passed,
and age has made you extremely charming and beautiful!
I have grown and look as handsome as a fair prince,
recalling that moment which never slipped into a time so vast: 
a memory cherished by a thought so fond and reachable,  
to relive that gallant gesture of warmth and innocence...

When love was innocently given and kisses
were the fragrance of delicate roses,
these lips touched to share tenderness;
oh, those young hearts were not vain, greedy and shallow;
all the spontaneous smiles were genuine surprises:
adolescents sharing laughter, cuddling under the splendid rainbow!    

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


Abundant rains pelt
on the window's foggy glass
with a rhythm too sad;
mist, raindrops and dreariness
deepen my nostalgic mood:
when sunshine was felt at noon....

The orchard's petals 
adorn the small cupid's head
over the fountain:
an oasis for robins;
today, they don't warble,
but sip water from their well...

From this window-sill,
daisies, dangling from their vase,
struggle on their stems  
only to commiserate, 
with their sympathetic glance,  
my nostalgic mood of brighter days...

Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009

Details | Sestina |


A cherub with a rosy face
and plenty of curly hair
that the breeze loved to lull,
more than the daises so fair;
and that was the closest comparison...
to the beautiful child he once was!

The youngest dreamer ever to be born
with eyes as bright and lively as stars,
such were his to take imagination
beyond every possible dimension;
and such was the closest comparison...
to see himself as the beautiful child he once was!

He grew up too fast with an instinct
that was immensely blessed;  so keen,
privileged and gallant seemed that fearless
kid not to be able to earn one's keep,
to make perfection the closest comparison...
to the beautiful child he once was!

The shady paths covered by the swanky pine trees,
were as dusty as any country road which needed rain,
and it came without ever wishing for it;  and he welcomed 
it by getting wet, to lose himself in its gentle peace;
and what other closest comparison would he have made?...
If not that of the beautiful child he once was without worry and pain!   

Entered in Deborah Guzzi's poetry contest

Copyright 2009  by Andrew Crisci

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2009