Bahama Mama palm trees,
The island’s blue skies,
Lime and blueberry umbrellas.
Pink coral rays rolling out
A poetic zephyr of relaxation;
Massage of sun on shoulders.
Down we go, with the tubes,
Bumping walls, as water falls;
Playing seaweed footsie.
Approach of Autumn seas,
Stingrays and sharks of Atlantis,
Strolling in figure eights.
On the Royal’s 15th floor,
Entertained by Summer storm
and moonlit motifs on the shore.
Didn’t come close to sliding,
Beach wind calming,
Sipping my coconut rum.
Later three cherries float
in my runner, and a stranger
demands a fruitful repeat.
I don’t broach the subject
of cashing out; gambler, not;
Danger of sunken treasure.
Wrapped up this celebration;
a row of chairs, food to spare,
Hellos and Tatas. Wings lift, land.
Mystical creatures
dance in the clouds.
As I look up, they gaze smiling down.
Seeing their scales imprinted in the sand.
Along with squiggles drawn with One's hand.
Footprints all around, leading to the waters edge.
X marks the spot where I came to,
by His footprints in the sand.
Swimming in memories of a once forgotten time.
Atlantis my home, dancing in the sea.
Not needing to make sense to anyone
it's in the birds and bees
The wonders of His creations
as far as the eye can see.
jagged heart hidden
behind hazelnut stone
wicked riddles rolling
inside angelic lips,
petite powerful tongue
connect our souls
my milian, mermaid
princesses don’t belong
under water forever;
even angels rebel
Close your eyes
Relax and journey with me
Walk with me through the streets of Atlantis
Lost to us by savage time
Share with me the golden city
Watch the sun through the turquoise
As the people walk peacefully
This city should be a model for others
Full of peace, honor, and beauty
Sadly, what you are seeing is merely a dream
Created by your own imagination
Luckily, you may be able to return
All you have to do is close your eyes
Imagine that you are in paradise
And you will again be walking the streets of Atlantis
© Poem – XX/VI/MMXXV
LRET
Science thus submerge
temples oceans atlantis
secret narratives
Lights of Atlantis
brightest evening star,
flirts with no shame to the sea,
sea gull winks at me.
9/18/2021
Welcome to Atlantis
We're glad you're here
We hope you had a safe trip
And welcome you with open arms
Allow me to tell you the history
Of our lovely city of Atlantis
We used to play baseball
We erected statues
We carved out a society
Built on hopes and dreams
And told our children
Just go to school
Be all that you can be
The future is so very bright
We lied to their face
We stole their hopes and dreams
We wiped out species after species
We polluted the world
We ravaged the oceans
We killed each other over faith
Our citizens lived in a wealthy nation
But most were trapped in poverty
And a sickness away from bankruptcy
But look at them now
Don't you dare look away
Look at each ghost in the eyes
As they stand on a worthless pile of cash
Hoarded by a very fortunate few
We were raised to believe
Atlantis was just a fantasy tale
But failed to realize the irony
By making fantasy a reality
Ancient Atlantis was Utopia.
I know for I was a prominent citizen.
We felt loved, revered, respected.
We became complacent, haughty, arrogant.
Our technology was incredibly advanced
Brought to us through our dream states
Thanks to space travelers who deemed us worthy.
Our heads were puffed up. We were Atlantis and we were fine!
Our Utopian city was placed on an island
by Poseidon in honor of Cleito, his true love.
We were overseen by Chaos and Ydor, brother gods.
We felt beloved, brilliant, and beyond reproach.
We threw away whatever rules and ideals that stopped serving us
A weird cataclysmic evening arrived unexpectedly
A battle of fire, brimstone, earthquakes and destruction.
In vain we attempted to retain our spirituality
But we had become immoral, petty and greedy
Our island imploded, never to be found again
You can search for us
Some are still singing the song
In the Bermuda triangle
Pulling down unsuspecting planes
Loving the destruction we can impose on others
Our spiritual lessons not completely learned apparently.
Ubar, you are elusive and evasive.
Pushing the sands of time toward other places
Hiding in the bowels of your comfortable spot
Deep within the stomach of the southern Arabian sands
Wabar, you are secretive and secluded
Choosing to linger below the surface,
Almost impossible to discover,
Gloating in your ethereal resting place.
Iram, you are intriguing and enticing
Keeping yourself alive in legends and myths
Enticing my imagination as I imagine scooping you out
And discovering frankincense deep below the Arabian Desert.
The Atlantean’s : Bce
(South coast of Britain)
The old man stood on the shore and felt the morning chill cutting deeply into him , the sky was grey and mirrored the mood of the few survivors that had gathered , all of who’m looked outward for a miraculous salvation .
The old one turned ‘and pulling his wrapping’s tighter spoke .
“Now that our beloved Atlantis
is thus consumed by that dark and terrible abyss ‘a new-age has now Dawned “.
“Our home and The people who will forever remain there and the ways Of materialism are dead to us now”.
He paused and briefly looked back to the new great ocean that lay before them .
“And therefore confined to the Deep and thus must become willingly forgotten”.
He bravely smiled back at those gathered around him his eyes streaming and heart breaking .
“let us now in their stead and for the sake of our past ignorance’s and mistakes ‘burn the books of all we know “.
he held up his hand in supplication too the shocked faces of those stood around him .
He gestured towards the inland and continued
“And by that ashen light begin anew to write about the things we don't ........
I remember the Man from Atlantis from forty years ago
I watched his show when I was a kid
The man with webbed hands and feet swimming underwater
He was cool in his aquatic world
But I've an improvement
The Man from Atlantis needs a keel for better buoyancy
Just like a submarine
Increasing his amphibious abilities
Where he can effortlessly rise and fall
He needs a big fourteen inch nose
When it’s hard he rises
And when flaccid he falls
Other than aiding his nautical escapades the mermaids will love it
That’s if he can find out there to put it!
Other than sucking it off and doing a bit wank
And what of raunchy sex with fish?
Don’t go there coz it’s illegal
At least on land
Underwater, who cares if the Man from Atlantis is a fish fecker?
Who’s gonna stop him?
But he fecks many Red Commie CCCP corrupt turtles
They still don’t know who their daddy is
And thus are all still barstewards
There you have it
An improved the Man from Atlantis with his big black nose
Saving the world and pleasuring women and mermaids
Coming to a cinema near you soon
...by gone past former shores of lands mishandle!;
Alas disoriented having lost one's bearings;
adrift going round in circles at sea darkness covers;
Hark! I hear Atlantis calling...
As the sea brings me light the candles;
Of the painted blacken skies;
Hark! I hear Atlantis calling...
Yet still alive, lost amidst the waters;
Prince Namor whose off the deck;
Surfaces on to this timeless wreck;
Whom am I to descend and at what cost;
unable to find one's way; "Help! We're lost!"
Treading waters seas shallows
Of the painted blacken skies;
Hark! I hear Atlantis calling...
11/03/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019 ©
Atlantis is out there somewhere, it's common logic
Falling out of favor with the deities, it submerged in the Atlantic
To be discovered one day
Possibly it's not far away
My real name is Charles, Greek for “Plato”, common knowlege
Still
Here in
Atlantis,
Mother of pearls.
Iridescent; being pregnant with light,
A world rebuilding - waiting to hold you.
Resurfacing:
Sea the sun,
Finding
Home.
At the Atlantis Resort in the Bahamas,
Souper poets are drinking Bahama Mamas.
Casino games are set aside every night
as Soupers take the stage to read poems they write.
Ladies dress up as mermaids and men as sailors,
not outfits that can be found at Lord and Taylor’s.
With many applause breaks and standing ovations,
attendees are inspired to share verse creations.
The thrill of conventions can’t be understated;
members have personal encounters long awaited.
Masks will fall from some who chose anonymity --
no avatars stifle their sociability.
A winged warrior and silent one are revealed
as all members’ true identities are unsealed.
No longer will there be conflict on the Soup site;
when we meet people, we’re obliged to treat them right.
With plans for another gathering underway,
adversaries’ best qualities are on display.
Vows to interact online as they do in person
are pledged by all Soupers without any coercion.
Conventions like this serve such a worthy purpose
and some long-lasting friendships are sure to surface.
*March 15, 2019
For Line’s Soup Convention contest
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