Best Manta Ray Poems
TALKING WAVES.
The sound the waves make on the shore
Seem like they’re trying to say,
“I’d never seen this rocky beach
Until I did today.”
“Before that I was out at sea,
Miles and miles away,
Racing with the ocean,
To talk to you today.”
“I’ve seen the cliffs at Dover,
And the road to Mandalay.
I even passed Australia
To get to you today.”
“I’ve seen the gentle humpbacked whale
And a giant manta ray,
I even saw a penguin
In a cold Antarctic Bay.”
“But now we’ve had our little chat
I really must not stay,
I’ve got to talk to someone else
A thousand miles away.”
Oh, to fly underwater - to ply the deepest oceans!
To navigate sunbeams like temple pillars,
And moonbeams as fingers of soft, blue magic!
Squid lights dancing among their abyssal reach ...
To break the wake with a fin at night,
Making the phosphorescence trace easy curves ...
Artful squiggles to hail the Milky Way above!
To explore the colors and vibrancy of the reefs,
Throbbing with life and vitality ... excitement and danger!
Spinning and courting among the coral ...
To have the entire world's waters as my playground -
The keen bite of the cold, deep trench,
Teeming with food and plankton, rife,
Or the joyous warmth of the Caribbean and South Pacific!
My fellow swimmers, of endless fascination ...
The sonorous bellows of the whales trembling,
The sweet songs of the dolphins, at play,
The pulsing of the deep waters in storms,
And the peaceful, unshaken silence of a lagoon ...
To swim deep to the darkest, coldest depths,
And return to breach the surface - air-borne and majestic!
Oh, to be a manta ray!
The gentle, giant birds of the water ...
The master swimmers and fliers of the sea!
Sleek, beautiful ... and lone.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Favorite Animal In The Wild" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Sponsor.
A huge manta ray flies up high
Just over the horizon
Sharing the sky with black baby
Puffins, what's beyond?
The sun sitting in the east waiting
To chase away the night
And remove the cool of the morn
Give manta ray its flight
Imagination can run frenzied
When cobalt clouds design
But soon their image dissipates
Lavender ice aligns
Fog down in the hollow coats trees
A misty way to start a day
Oh! The beauty now cast from light
Released by the sun's rays
A magenta appears upon the cloak
White light warms icy clouds
Then a red fire ball emerges
And pine limbs no longer shroud
Island, I can see you - distant fine pearl.
We drop harbor anchor, music greets us.
Leis are given by a native grown girl.
We walk ocean street not using road's bus.
Hostel makes us welcomed showing no fuss.
Time includes glass bottom boat and day's swim.
We watch manta ray, intrusive old cuss,
thinking someone might soon try to spike him.
Aviary sanctuary, slope's rim,
bison grazing, cycling city's alleys,
total living, sharing life to stein's brim.
So " manana," we will make more sallies.
We will charter boat and troll as Zane Grey,
catching huge fish, I can write book someday.
As we walked the warm air broke and swept over me like waves.
I puffed on a sweet cigar
passing the seafood placed down by the marina.
“we went the wrong way.”
The boats locked behind a cage sat vacant next to the boardwalk
where a thousand people played.
The salt clung to you like the smoke in the air,
sweet and salty the pair.
Passing families we joked and toked.
A stretcher came out of the clouds.
Four men carried it, but none spoke.
Five came back, all breathing heavy and scared.
Along the rocks I found a moment in between the time I exhaled and when the waves snuck up on me.
I pulled out a new cigar and lit it as we walked.
Smoke rose,
from me and the pits circled by teens.
It was Friday night, I forgot.
Work Tomorrow.
The smoke sweet like honey drizzled itself upon me whether I liked it or not.
Walking back along the West side of the marina we found a parking lot.
I shook the ashes off and they stuck to me like snow in the warm August evening.
Ahead a group of people gathered watching something.
In his sun-baked lawn chair he caught a manta ray.
He alternated wiggling the pole and pulling on the whiskey.
The polygon squirmed along the waters edge and I turned away,
taking another pull off my sweet cigar.
Later,
crossing the highway towards the ‘Oceanside Motel’ I thought how hot it is now at the end of my cigar and inhaled harder.
I sat on the patio and a wind blows,
wiping me down,
cooling me off,
but not cleaning away everything.
The channel islands off the coast
of California were my home
on weekends sailing with my dad
on glassy seas, on froth and foam.
On Fridays after work he’d head
to Catalina on the wind.
Sometimes, the trips were fast and rough;
sometimes, you thought they’d never end.
I’d go below when it got dark;
he’d often sail late in the night,
drop anchor in a quiet cove,
and hear the gulls at dawn’s first light.
My father would go snorkeling
and abalone were the game:
delectable when cooked just right,
breaded, sauted on a flame.
The prize, not easy, on the rocks
some twenty feet below or more.
A suit and weights to take him down
to pry them off the ocean floor.
I stayed up top and manned the oars
and kept the dinghy close at hand,
collect the catch and be right there
when things did not go quite as planned.
Though this was fifty years ago,
I picture it as clear as day.
My father found a hunting spot.
The waters, calm; the skies were gray.
He’d found an abalone bed
with numbers plenty to be found,
and so he’d bring them to the boat,
inhale, and take the next trip down.
But then, he came up rather quick
and backed up slowly with his fins.
His snorkel made the strangest moans,
and then he dived back down again.
Again, he came up fast and tossed
the catch into the boat and said
a large black manta ray down there
was quite protective of the beds.
’Twas near ten feet across in size,
and though they shouldn’t cause one harm,
when they are coming after you,
it sets off all the fire alarms.
On one last trip, he headed down,
and next I know, he’s like an otter.
The ray had come straight up at him;
he might as well have walked on water!
He managed to get in the boat
in one smooth motion, in a blink.
Normally, it was a struggle,
requiring help and lots of strength.
He laughed and said we’re done today;
whatever’s here, we’ll call it good.
No arguments from me, for sure;
I’d never been, and never would!
FATHER & SON
The indoor soccer arena
was under the glide path
of the western approach
to the international airport
The still-clever father
made a snide macho comment
to the gold ear-ringed teenager
with the thick-muscled legs
“Uh huh”, said the kid
mentally reducing the angle and
speed of an attack on goal
as they crossed the parking
lot in the surreal fog of a
lake effect thaw
Breaking low ceiling,
its wings broad with flaps, the big
silhouette of a descending jet liner
was moving so slowly that it just
seemed to hover like a large
manta ray suspended in the lift
of a mild ocean current
“Nice”, said the man
“Yeah” said the kid,
who followed the plane over the
shining bald head and the
“gee wiz” gaze of his thickening
father and, just for an instant,
for the very first time, he thought
of his dad as a man
who could love
glorious orange flashes toward me
she looks so ominous due to being shark-colored too
i feel relief, as I realize what she is
a harmless manta ray
giant of the ocean
My body is flat
I can shock enemies
What am I?
An ocean ray
A sting ray
I am not as large as a manta ray
But I am deadly toward my prey