I float along the peaceful stream.
Will I stay put? I cannot scream; I’m only a petal, a petal can dream.
It’s bliss like the rays,
From the river to the bays,
Why am I so afraid?
For I glide and paddle my way to my feet; every raindrop sounds what I cannot keep.
When darkness looms,
My nothingness blooms.
Shadows create devils, hell’s gate.
I float along a peaceful stream, a petal can dream, but this petal screams.
So ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ivy and ¦¦¦ bays,
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ restore the ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ways.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
Though ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ the ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ earth ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ upon your breasts' ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ lightness ¦¦¦¦
Rebuke, ¦¦¦ wither ¦¦¦ the ill.
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
Not ¦¦¦¦ music, ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ nor show:
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ all man's ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ humility.
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
To welcome ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ the poor ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
To those that want, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ more ¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ loss and sin.
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
(Blackout of The True Christians by Henry Vaughan)
When I stop staring at you in wonder,
you can be sure I am done…
Till then
Even if there is constant change of scenery,
Or on a day of cruel mockery,
Through the thickest of cloudy days,
Past the flurry of turbulent bays,
Inspite of the very many rejections,
Amongst the disheartening aberrations,
I will plough through,
On and on.
Because
Every smile is kindness
A stinging tear, care…
Every hug a bonus
The eyes, a soul stare…
Every day is newness
For hope is never rare.
So,
When I stop staring at you in wonder,
you can be sure I am done…
These high-grassed moments
Eyed love's, o'erlooking
Bays, sparkle more
Desired forevers
Where Time, breezy too
Has not lulled for.
Darkness settles across the sky,
Bats flitting, begin to fly,
A howling wolf, set apart and aloof,
Eyes from the window cry.
Heroes secure in their proof,
The Vampyer, under castle roof,
Longing for past Love's tender ways,
Recoiling from lance and charger's hoof.
The drooling hound in restless pursuit bays,
The shining glory of all wakened days,
Vlad no longer rules the night or draws a fight,
For his recalcitrant sins, he bloody pays!
The Earth's Oceans Poetry Contest-Sponsored by: Constance La France
--------------------
" the seasons have many changes-and changes are many with the seas." by poet
i am the untamed southern sea:
with my spirit wild, dark and free.
from the land of frozen ice I do flow-
as my gale force winds cut and blow.
my swell beats to the dance of death.
as deeply i breathe beastly breath-
echoing the sound of thunder-
as i crash upon rocks, while I plunder.
sculpting the scars of time with my thundering surge-
i sing a rumbling mournful dirge.
but...there are two sides to my soul.
when the warm summer sun comes to gambol-
to the winter's chaos i bid farewell-
and under the golden rays, i will dwell.
becoming crystal clear with hue of colour blue-
the untamed me becomes fresh and brand new.
i will ebb and flow upon the great southern land-
and bask on my shore line of golden sand.
diamonds sparkle and dance across my calming bays-
reaching to greet-the warming rays.
Flying past the hillsides,
flying pat the bays,
flying past the cabin
where I might just like to say.
Flying past the tall trees,
branches scrape my feet,
’tis the finest jetpack
you can buy with money.
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
Flying through the cities,
over the suburbs,
flying past the park where
kids by swings wait their turn.
Flying over mountains,
past the birds of prey,
the eagles give strange looks
then dive out of my way!
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
Oh, free flying,
so high and free,
I wish you had
a jetpack like me.
If I had cash
I’d buy you one,
we’d soar up high
and have too much fun!
Ain’t no toil,
in my jetpack royal,
my view is unspoiled
in my jetpack royal,
so high the blood boils
in my jetpack royal,
the schemes that I’ll foil
in my jetpack royal.
Let our clear eyes gaze
at the rising moon on the
shores of the Sahara, let
the evening stars shine,
holding the skies in their
cosmic magnet, let the
tides cease their aggression
within the ocean, like the
brutish pain we feel as
we welcome and embrace
the oases of our longing
faiths, our kisses
flirting on the shores
of the ocean’s lips,
resolute in our struggle.
We are sandwiched between
the blades and mortars of
these plains, bludgeoned on
the banks and rivers of
these burning forests,
our peace stolen by
hate, so we spend
these silver years in
agony, asking the same
questions our ancestors
asked: shall our hopes be
burnished and taken away on
the lost bays of these curving
currents determined to throw
us into the pits of the boiling
gutters, or shall our longing
faiths, like stones, outlast
the flames of the forest fires?
When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand. Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:
Call me ambrosia too. Just outside,
nectar drips from marmalade nights
honey and cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !
Ominous bays of hellhounds thunder in the bleak night
As a shattered glass slipper is found amongst powdered ivory snow,
The glint caught within incorporeal warping moonlight—
Leading to a blue grey corpse, mangled with frozen tears cemented in place.
Hands clenched around a copper timepiece,
The minute hand paused at one past twelve.
The putrid scent of desperation still hangs heavy in the air.
A note, scribbled in vermilion, is tucked within her bosom:
I'm sorry. I was overwhelmed—and so very lonely. She came to me with promises of grandeur. All I had to do was make a pact: be home by midnight, or my soul would forever be hers.
How could I resist? She seemed so innocent, with the smells of childhood lingering—conjuring up all that is glorious.
Besides, you, my dear family, seemed not to notice, nor care, about the pain quietly consuming me. So I took the deal, inked in blood and sealed with a poisonous kiss.
If you happen to find this note, I never made it back in time. And my fate lies within her mercy.
Winds begin to howl,
Ocean's breath a churning threat,
Boats seek sheltered bays.
©bfa050625
Missed someone a lot,
No words nor thoughts.
Could describe how it was.
But what was the point,
When someone has already gone.
One more "hello", one more "goodbye",
For the good and the last time.
Could not believe or imagine,
How I was treated the way you did.
I love piano music sound to my ears.
You said things music to my ears,
But nothing valid.
I need time and energy to do things,
Like piano, embroidery, poetry and travelling.
So spare me with your words and promises.
All my precious time and energy
Has been exhausted.
None left to do anything else.
Long weekend is coming up.
So as the heat and warm weather.
Sorrento, Phillip Island and Apollo Bays,
Here I come, one by one and day after day.
That is what I pray.
2025.2.23
Summer heat waves.
Checked on the website,
Beaurology of Melbourne weather forecasted.
The temperatures, the winds, the water and the tides.
Would be in the 30°c, calm, fine and low tides.
I somehow started to get panic,
Not because of the heat.
But more about the end of the summer is near.
Comparing to last year,
Victoria has more heat waves and sunny days.
I had so much sun tan,
Someone insisted I was from African decent.
This year, I visited Cowes Philip Island,
Warrnambool, Apollo Bay, Point Lonsdale and Lorne,
Not to forget Geelong,
As it was always there on the way.
I went to Sorrento back beach,
St Paul Lookout, Jubilee Point, Diamond Bay and Bays of Island's.
I would continue to travel,
As long as I was still able,
Until one day, I leave this place,
And go far far away.
Until then, I might see you again.
Asclepius, one cannot build from sand,
Such light and shifting grains as mortals be.
The wind and tide shall warp what e’er is planned,
Foundations fade before the pounding sea.
And yet, when grains of sand flow through my hand,
I smile at warmth and richness I know not.
Through falling columns have the sea I scanned,
As through a fog, and this the vision brought.
Once, weary, weary, weary on the sea,
One weary, wandering sailor, long away.
‘Tis torpor, tempest, tedium, weary he,
When wind-whipped waves whisk words on salty spray.
“Rain-hardened sailor, welcome now,
The ocean storms here mend their ways.
No lonesome mists embrace the prow,
Here glegful otters tend their bays.
This oaken isle, this Avalon,
O’er the futile, beating sea;
This dream-cast realm, this jewel at dawn,
Where thought is regal, talent free.
And here beyond the reach of might,
Where ancient tribal flaws decay,
With cobbled streets and spires alight,
New thought, new form, new love, hold sway.”
When whence these words surveyed had he,
Before his eyes a visage be.
‘Twas older than eternity,
That face that sank beneath the sea.
I want to have wings.
I want to fly
over the bays
and into the sky.
Don't try to stop me,
Don't even try.
Don't even think to ask me why.
I want to have wings that will convey,
convey me back to another day.
Take me to where I feel the rays,
the light that never goes away.
Again and again I pause and pray
please give me wings to fly away;
away to my queen so I can stay,
even if it's only for just one day.
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