SUBMERSED*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
submersed
under cerulean layers of sleep
I drift, like plankton, unanchored…
GloFish, protists,
underwater atolls,
sea dragons, shipwrecks
moving with the undercurrent
of water drenched in sapphire moonlight
far above the waves,
a single fixed eye, unblinking,
whirls with the horizon’s arc
a glimmer, an omen, or a target glimpsed
disappeared in a moment~
and the undulating, briny sea,
the murkiness of an unfamiliar shore,
and
the beautiful luster of a sleep-darkened sky.
Tigers in the tall grass.
Bruins in the buckwheat.
Sirens, sing of sassafras!
Eagles, time to eat...
Linger, O my looking-glass...
Red run in reply.
Languid liquor, poison gas!
Death, glance at me sly...
Frankincense burned on the tomb?
Ashes, coat the walls.
Belladonna, how you bloom!
Funeral, how ye palls!
Pyramid, best to get rid?
Gold on rim, crater?
Hell and Heaven, hid or bid?
Only if you're sure!
Wind, over the atolls fly!
Cold as coffee fields!
O my Spartans, don't be shy!
Win or on thy shields!
Forbidden City, thy birth?
Life, what are you worth?
Decency, dismay, thy dearth!
Estuary? Firth!
Honed like blades of iron!
Shining in the air!
O chessmasters, sac the pawn!
Tortoise, eat the hare!
Heaven and Hell, apply. When?
Beginning again!
Coyote, doth fear the hen?
One day out of ten...
Thank you O sea,
For the untiring music of your waves,
For the rolling of your rollers,
Thank you O sea
for your music so refined,
This music softens the soul,
His sight soothes the poet
Console the painter ,
Thank you O sea
For your music,
For your mighty storms,
Merci Debussy
For your symphonic poem,
Thank youO sea
For your overflowing imagination,
For your writers, generous
Homer to Baudelaire, to Hugo,
Thank you O sea,
For all your colors,
For horizons surrounded by foam
For the sunny south of ancient Greece,
For your date palms,
Thank you O sea, for your example,
For the exemplary flight of seagulls,
For the frigate, white terns
For the quiet schooners,
Who anchor in the atolls
Thank you the sea,
For your illuminated ships
In the port of Brest,
For each oysters savored,
Thank you O sea, for your gifts
Your travels to America
You are the soul of the world
the source of my thoughts.
After the party on the boat,
I fell into a deep slumber;
I knew not what had happened.
I woke up on a tropical island,
my hands and legs tied with ropes.
Carrying out CPR on me,
the people there saved my life
almost from the jaws of death.
Serving all the delicacies they had,
they made me a guest of theirs.
Though their huts are so small,
they had their hearts so large.
And they welcomed me into their clan.
With stunning coral atolls,
crystal-clear lagoons
and diverse landscapes...
I found the island so idyllic,
and I made it my home
to be among the people
who are so pure at heart,
renouncing the place of deceit,
where I came from!
Oh, Pacific, Paradise at a glance,
Where the ocean sings and mountain dance,
Where nature's beauty knows no bounds,
And ancient matriarchies wisdom resounds.
As the stewards of the land,
They had shown deep reverence for their hand.
By tending the gardens and planting trees,
And fishing the waters with gentle ease.
With the shadow of colonialism,
Patriarchy defying ancient mannerism.
And suppressed women’s voices,
To plunder the earth against all forces.
They turned away from the weeping earth,
Celebrating the exploitation with mirth.
Women leaders, brave and strong,
Raised their voices, to prove them wrong.
From the shores of Fiji to the atolls of Kiribati,
They spoke of the impending tragedy.
And the need to heal the land,
Not in arrogance, but hand in hand.
To revive ancient stewardship of the land,
They started making people understand,
That we must nurture the earth with sacred care,
And this wisdom, we all must share.
A poet's job's
not to incite a mob
Or to fan red-hot
flames ever higher
Rather, to remove
those hot coals
and replant them
on peaceful atolls
Edge what remains their last hope, be enshrined,
be the breeding atolls summoned to mind.
Albatross are one of the bird's largest.
These goliath's wingspans are the longest,
which makes them less of a landlubber when
they take more to the sea and less to land
other than breeding and nesting. They may
fly for more than a year well before they
take to land, which has been limited to
the northern Hawaiian islands, that's due
to its isolation. Their numbers put
them on the endangered list. The output
rests on less interference, to; control
by observation like fish in a bowl.
We are mislabeled as sea birds and should be called
big birds, like that yellow one but we're not yellow.
We never land on land for a year or longer, and we
been told that we have known God since he was a
little boy. The unfeathered say that for a very long
time we're like many fishes in the sea, but now we
are like whales. The few of us left, live in the north
atolls of Hawaii. There's no other place in the world
except for oceans, seas, bays ... forget what I said.
All nebulous dreams prospecting,
A hideaway in cloud atolls,
A nightly ocean, warmth awaiting,
In quibbling flow, to dawn's aperture
In spectra falling, spectral play crumbled,
Sojourner stars: their lamps parole
In a distance, behind amnesic lights
Razing autumn clouds, amber hues galore!
Cloud heaths, like bosom steaming
Of shying lovers in meeting pour
Whom expectations, sunrays in flurry,
The sky makes dawn red, and Sun allures
The air, in restless breeze cavorting,
By promised things which procure
A blushful pink, on allusion's canvas,
The whimsy sky in homely warmth pleasured
Into a fecund rosiness, its secrets goaded,
Flee from shadowed swathes: staid, demure;
And where played curt poem, autumn moon;
Is a sky by the the bold and brash secured
Primal Language
Speaking gutturally in the fractured
Fragments of a foreign language,
A tongue unknown to her
She is come from another country
gesturing with her hands
Between the islands of broken English
Within her hesitations are the silent
Stutters of clarity
Using her body as a language
I know what she is asking
Between the atolls of words
Are oceans of sterling imagery
John Tansey
she sits alone on the hotel balcony,
looking out at the city,
chin on knees,
arms hugging legs,
compacting herself into a hush.
but the stillness hides movements.
within her eyes water glides slowly in,
laps her retinas,
borrows what it finds there, recedes,
carries it in to sea.
the quiet water drifts what she sees
to distant shores washed by indigo tides,
around lonely atolls,
into disenchanted lagoons,
and finally back again,
returning it,
sodden with a long-neglected disappointment,
to the brown eyes,
along with a tinge of blue.
(and now the ship moved on....)
She took us like a valiant steed,
from coast
to islands free,
where Tongan tapas decked the halls,
of South Pacific glee,
Marquesas, atolls,
reefs and pearls,
far away lands
grass skirts, dancing girls!
(and now the ship moved on.....)
The dream fulfilled,
we headed back,
her wooden body held wind slack.
We heard her fate,
she sank one day,
that boat was old, she had her way....
(and now the ship moved on)
Beneath a veneer of sapphire waves,
Rays of sunshine make fingers of light,
Ethereal, over crusty, pink coral forms.
Atolls that rise from stark white sand, create
Tunnels for twining eels and twinkling starfish
Hues of rainbow anemones mingle with
Tangerine flowers, resplendent along
Avenues of pelagic growth, draping over
Knolls of time worn stones, mirrored
In sunken remnants of marble ruins.
Now, at day's end an orange sunset
Glows with long beams to reveal a lost Atlantis.
Breathtaking
Contest Judged: 3/12/2016 12:00:00 AM
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
3rd. Place
Extinction
Annihilation of atolls,
Extinction of species
maybe an act or fact of life,
Natural or by human hunt
calls for reinforcement,
But at times I feel....
There must be more content in death
than life could ever provide.
Unknown unsung lives
now in mention- the extinct.
Written Jan 5th, 2015
For contest by Anthony Slausen
For years this ship has been sailing the seas
From the beaches of Hawaii to the Florida Keys
With no land in sight and no view of atolls
The ship was used to pitches, yaws and rolls
Alas, land has been spotted ahead
After four years of feeling left for dead
No more sorrow or lonely, sad songs
Just happiness that good fortune has finally come along
Like an island to Odysseus’ men many years ago
This island is what the captain has wished he would go
After so far away from love and compassion
This was not an example of instant satisfaction
This ship has suddenly turned engines on to full throttle
And its captain now drinks rum from a bottle
Never again he wishes to see
His ship out of love and adrift at sea
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