Best Body Of Water Poems
I live on an island in the Pacific region
The largest body of water is the OCEAN
Like, can we be more Pacific?
I think Christopher Columbus got lost
Because the directions were not pacific
Oh, excuse me, the Pacific Ocean
Where you will find the small islands (micronesia)
Where you will find the black islands (melanesia),
Where you will find the many islands (polynesia)
Generally, the islanders are like coconuts
So hard on the outside
But succulent on the inside
Yet they always end up wanting Samoa
Get this,
An assault by an Islander
is called a Hawaiian Punch
At times, these islands need a therapist when they are in a tropical depression
Some islands have sunk
Oh no do not laugh
That is not funny atoll
Sea yourself out
Therefore, I live on an island
A small island
I am a MICRO
I mean, how can I get more pacific than that?
"the mighty sea is she"
mesmerizing is the body of ocean blue
bestowed upon me are sights and sounds
more than tides rolling to and fro
she is the mighty sea apart from earth and sky
beyond comprehension as I glance and stare
this wonder continues far and wide to infinity
more than the measure of water
the mighty sea is she being a world like no other
by day feel her warmth and touch of silk
by night experience her voice and power
more than what I could ever trace
she is the ocean blue that sparkles like a star
somewhere between golden sands and blue sky
somewhere between the shore and open sea
find me breathing living in wonderment
the ocean blue is she hosting a playground of life
for all her tides with sights and sounds
for all her warmth by day and power by night
this body of water calls to me with every reason
still the mighty sea is she holding all my dreams
SkyWatcher
12-16-15
although this was written several years ago
may words never be old
thank you
It started high up in the clouds,
the moisture balling together until
it became a perfect tear drop hovering
then falling down, gaining speed.
Bumping into others amalgamating,
spinning dropping ever downwards.
Landing with large splash on a leaf
and trickling, running ever down.
Joining still as it flows on
over the edge to the ground.
The rain drop fell into a puddle
and spread out reflecting the sky.
Glistening, sparkling and pulsing
It follows the contours of the land
giving life to all as it passes by,
relentlessly advancing with glee.
Not over yet, it flowed into a lake
now a vast body of water it continues
onwards, ever onwards. One day it
will return to the sky. That's another story.
I wish I could concentrate my
Poetic writing to just one form,
But that just wouldn't be me.
I need to dip my toes into
Every body of water,
Every lake, stream or sea.
Haiku is beautiful and abstract,
Sensationally succinct with
Artful possibilities galore.
It conquers earthly seasons,
Delights our vivid views and
Trains the mind how less is more.
If you haven't tried a Sonnet,
You don't know the romance or
Splendor you have missed.
Of Italian origin Sonnets sing...
Pulling on our fervent heartstrings,
They conjure love in every tryst.
Whether I choose rhyme or free verse
Or Acrostic's strict letter form, or
Write in Etheree's nondescript shades,
I feel there is freedom in my choosing,
To express my very best, to leave my
Legacy before... my little light fades.
© Connie Marcum Wong
Waves of Change
Changes in life descriptionalized
In comparison to waves of the ocean
Our bodies are made mostly of water
A body of water with flowing emotions
Now an ocean will flow peacefully
Until there is a bit of turbulence
Disrupting from a smooth flow
With the up and down currents
As we walk onto a new path
A different kind of feeling steps in
New ventures can be scary in thought
Of what is left behind when we begin
An air of difference can bring on a spin
To a funnel effect as does a water spout
Sometimes when in the spin motion cycle
We are shaded by clouds and cannot see out
When actually caught within the spin
We do not see the change is there
Our sense of direction is lost
We become totally unaware
If you are the one caught
Within that fast paced spin
You will not be able to see
The shape you are really in
That’s the time we need someone
To give us a tap on the shoulder
It’s not a matter of who knows more
Or which one of the other is older
You’ll need a friend like Dory was
Saying to just keep swimming the sea
To never give up your hopes and dreams
As changes in life really just happen to be
Florence McMillian (Flo)
Chef 's Winter dishes are simply delicious, not too much oil or cream.
Rich or plain, taste tested to perfection, tiny portions sometimes steamed
He starts the day with freshly squeezed orange juice,coffee and toast.
And embarks on a fitness journey along the seaside in Adelaide.
Today he is going to create a seafood bisque inspired by his walk.
This morning whilst walking along the beach he noticed the outgoing
Tide and outlet left a long groove with definite honeycombe indentations
snaking parallel to the shore for a distance near a giant swirly starfish.
From an aerial perspective it looked like a Christo dragon , hardened ripples
representing the scales and the sometimes swirling patterns here and there
where the giant Sea-dragon moved, slithered or shifted about in the sand .
The Sea-Dragon must have laid there for some time before he disappeared
as his scales were deeply impressed and clearly embossed in the firm sand.
A clear body of water flowed in the center of this outlet echoing the scales
shimmering and gleaming with sunlight smoothly on the groove's surface.
Upon seeing this ,Chef etched it in his memory and began to mentally gather
ingredients for his creation.How could he give his bisque the dragon flavour?
Grilling the whiting, prawns and scallops with butter laced with honey , chilli,
cardamon + crushed nuts , garlic, a dash of brandy.......
then adding chicken stock , lime , thyme ,cracked pepper , rock sea salt and
finally pureeing the lot with a splash of coconut milk.
Tension crawls into the pores of crashing contemplation
Why has it become so hard to breathe?
If only it was known what this dejected heart is saying
As she sobs poetic lines of wordless woe
She is cradled in the tempo tempest of this reflection
Pulsing in the unfeeling land beyond her bodily home
The blood pumping sweet iron grief spurts
The soles of the feet throb at the impact
As the grass cools only to recall the coldness of the present
The impact…
Of a tear falling to the floor
The droplet so gentle… in clear-watered, grounded rapture
The energy of the sorrow befallen is perilous
One with many roads leading to frail fantasy
Aggravated tear…so atrocious, envious
There is something more whirling in this déjà vu cycle
Being crushed many times
By lackadaisical, ever-traveling minds
It is too easy to be tossed to and fro
Between conscious leisure and provocative pressure
Sub-dominated by sumptuous conviction
That word—love—a furtive dagger
Driving a gaping hole of shame and unknowing
Straight into her
Wracking around in this meddle
Of emotion and reason—shooting up falsehood full throttle
Drifting there again
In a solitude almost consoled by the earthy coldness
Of his fowl glare…
Every unsaid word frazzling to the mind
Tearing me and lifting me high
One must wonder if you watch as the fragments fly
As they float for only a few seconds
Of your precious time
And fall back down below
At your very feet
Where the grass is warm, and hopes are high
Please don’t leave them on the floor with the tear
The tear that never quite gets absorbed
The tear that chillingly consoles that bleeding heart
Destroying me
As she thrashes in the maze of bones and matter
Each hollow pathway of the marrow leading to a dead end
Or an ever-winding way downwards
They say each body of water leads straight to the sea
Where will the tear I abhor…lead me?
I found myself shedding a tear at a train seat upon seeing the sights leaving the Wellington city train port to Woburn.
I don't mind being called a sentimental freak, if I could just have any describe more than I can the beauty that leaves
one more than enamored, bewildered and perplexed. How is it possible for nature to marry humanity and vice versa?
How does it happen when the city buildings lay backdrop to the turquoise waters of the pacific ocean and vice versa?
How does its waves recognize no rules to follow on where it comes and goes or the wind for that matter? How does the
birds play so freely as if happily almost touching the great body of water, back to air, then back again to the base
surface of the waters? How does the water vessels cruise peacefully with some other ships finding their places like
home amidst the many other small boats around? How does the sun give off its summer heat amidst the windy air?
How did I end up being in that rugged train witnessing all the massive spectacle of beauty in a country a million miles
away from my homeland? Tell me why I should help myself to a silent tear.
Ground seepage
A small start mere drainage
Grows to a mighty river rushing
Flowing some three-hundred-fourty-four miles a rushing
From Atlanta to the Gulf beauty accenting
Through ragged Spewell Bluff it slithers
Filled with fresh rain water
Flint River
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
Contest: Choose Your Favorite Body Of Water
Written: June 12, 2014
In a dream I saw myself in a bright room, sitting and writing down a poem
The experience was temporary; I soon returned to a normal frame of mind
I felt another presence besides myself, suddenly I was awoken by a loud hum
As I search in my head what was it I said, and wondering what I might find
I was sure about this vision I had, the humming noise? An oscillating dry fan
Feeling outside normal perception of space and time for a cold spell
I was the transient, the other conscious in a dream that seemed had no plan
In a waking state of consciousness still my soul is clouded, and here I dwell
No recollection or recognizing my true nature or of my ignorance
Unaccepting this illusion of life instead of its reality, certain that I must
not condemn me to suffering and deadly defiance,
I attempt to escape the life cycle of the universe, in this I trust
A life of austerity, devote myself to seeking knowledge
Unattach myself to any possession which result in greed
Achieving liberation by spirituality this I pledge
and eventually achieve a liberated state, indeed
I will not incriminate myself but become a good friend, a giver
And not search for another roadway another dead end
Time lapses, searching ends where the narrow road runs into a river
Flowing as one with a body of water, an experience to transcend
And if the microorganisms might be killed in every breath I’ve taken
by the immune system, discipline will be my task
When they call me lunatic when no finds of a scientific explanation
I’ll show that it is wise to keep and wear the surgical mask
The fundamental aim to perfect our soul essential, it took eons to rise above
Speak the truth if it is pleasant or remain silent if the truth is painfully lumen
All has a living soul in them, and all should be treated with respect and love
This can seem like a dream, and in my dreams, I am only human
I came across a body of water -
not a waterfall or rain.
I'm not sure if 'twere a lake
or something else.
I'll go with the something else
as 'twould be more exciting...
I saw a handsome man there
floating a raft towards his doom.
12/7/2015
Poetry is a body of water,
With the title being its' surface;
The context deep or shallow.
It's as far in the water,
One chooses to go...
____________________________
Inspired by a good friend of mine.
Conor Jordan's artistic eye and
Spoken knowledge helped me greatly.
His wisdom speaks oceans.
Our first collaboration of many...
There’s wisdom to be found,
In the depths of a poem.
If we choose to submerge our mind.
We hope you enjoy! Thank you
Lovely, is God's gift, a sapphire world,
a breath, a sigh, a soothing soul of beauty.
Quote_by Poet
The refreshing cool, caressing breath of awaking dawn,
clouds nesting ascends from the blue horizon heaven's yawn.
The sea's heartbeat and unending scent, of the briny stir;
never calm, but constantly moving, rippling, water whir.
Gulls dance under breaking clouds departing upward in flight,
dash of white dives, swoops, squawking in the lacing sunlight.
Wind's flow of rapture, proceeds in joy as it longs to play
with the salty foamy turquoise sea waves that bend all day.
The turquoise continuous body of water beneath
its breadth and depth, her womb ever pregnant and coral reefs.
3/9/2022
Caleb Smith's “Echoes of the Heart” has inspired me to recall those halcyon days long ago on the frozen ponds of my youth.
It was hockey from early morn to the darkening shades of late afternoon with only a short break for a quickly devoured Campbell's Vegetable Soup for lunch. My closest friend was Ken. You very rarely saw one of us without the other, we were inseparable. Our hockey sticks were battered and thin and only bore a slight resemblance to hockey sticks we got each year for Christmas. The pond was a wide frozen body of water beside a well traveled highway to the distant land called the United States. But in our minds it was The Montreal Forum filled with screaming fans cheering on our every move. We would take turns being the great Maurice “The Rocket” Richard while the other would be all-star goalie Jacques Plante! It could have been minus 20 degrees Fahrenheit but we never felt the cold and icy winds... we were superstars.
On a few occasions I have revisited that hallowed ground where we spent hour upon hour, oblivious to time, our faces frozen as well as our ears and our toes! The cheering of the imaginary crowds was all the inspiration we needed to fire a blistering shot through the imaginary pads each other was wearing. At the end of the day, we literally had to crawl home on our hands and knees, our ankles no longer being able to support our tired legs.
Those sweet memories have stayed with me for a lifetime. I'm sure with my last breath of life, the vision of Ken and me will flash before my eyes. Ah yes, hockey, it was what young Canadian boys lived for back then!
© Jack Ellison 2013
Her figure of speech like an hour glass Shapely and flowing as body of water cascading Merging into one as it runs through it The tingling desert comes alive As the sands of time grow Found within the flow where was I Oh yes her inspiring bodily language Articulate thought provoking and well rounded