Best Saltier Poems
The Poem I Never Wrote
Is still on my lips
Buried treasure at the time
Now it's a barnacle on the ships side
And with each passing year
It keeps growing and growing
In infamy
In its infancy, some 50 years ago
The stage was set
We were twelve, once
Like two seagulls circling the sea
In harmony
But I didn't have the gull
To hold her hand
Or pass her a love note
No, no
Theres was no poet in me
Or a lion
Only a snail
It tears me to think about it
How our butterflies fluttered
And I didn't catch hers
connie pacheco
10/7/22
Not for contest
... it kept growing and growing, becoming
saltier and saltier
she sat there with only one tear rolling alone to drip between her knees
Splattering on the tidal flow below.
Cross legged with ankles aching on wet jetty stone
Cold wet jetty stones gathered from God knows where
By God knows what and re planted to keep the harbor open
for running tides and shallow keels
The time it takes a hot tear to cool depends on speed and touch of fickle wind
The onshore salt wet slap against the rock beneath her was no fickle tickle
The larger driven waves of displaced wake were soon to drench her useless evening dress in saltier tears of
moon drawn echoes than her eyes had ever bled
What puzzled her was the complete lack of feeling while knowing the onslaught To be so imminent. The ream of
words of feelings past rolled tightly in her huddled arms, had told a tale of woe and hurt and love and joy and
dancing swirl of pipes a skirl in calling whirl that brooked no answer from this girl as patiently she sat on legs
that carried her to reach this edge of reason lost for she was unaware of cost
The clan was nevermore The hillside burned in sunset bright in this the middle of the night and all the ghosts of
freedom yearned to save the soul of this one lass
who carried in her womb the last the hope of past attempts.
The morning found her there still sitting smiling in the pouring rain listening to the soft refrain of ebbing tide as
once again she rose to meet another day of unremitting pain. But she had found an answer in the rain. The clan
would rise again.
1/15/23
Always toking strong
A continual breeze blowing on
Meanwhile a lot kept going wrong
Over petty things they were so fond
Forming such a close bond
Among all these neutrons and protons
A lot done in a week
Answers found where rivers meet
It is bittersweet
Continual pandemonium
They remained saltier than sodium
Placing unfit things on a podium
In a world full of petroleum
Floors lined with linoleum
Also flowers that can be made into opium
It had nothing to do with teapots
In person not just by screen shots
Experienced firsthand and seen lots
Climbed to the tree tops
Then I started to speed off
No matter if endlessly she mocks
Saw right through it and noticed all the weak spots
Why is it that people do or don't believe in GOD?
Been occurring for Eons
Just proceed on
Keep calm
In the background endless distant whispers
As people portray an accurate or different picture
I constantly am smoking THC and sipping liquor
No love found just some veggies and a chicken dinner
Similar or traditions differ
A lot in the world harmless or a vicious killer
I was often able to win with vigor
Sometimes had a short fuse but a long distance swimmer
They've got bad intentions and much to pay
It can be done in a few ways
Near and far from any statue of Guadalupe
No concern over why do they
Regardless of what all these fools say
It's going down round the clock , sometimes seconds too late
Close or way off from any blue jay
Onto a new day
Among all these species
With foul intentions worse than left out feces
Causing harm by cheap means
I thought peace seemed
Like the better answer but they just spread it like cream cheese
Above and below these trees with green leaves
Became friends with queen bees
Went down to depths of beyond a thousand and sixteen leagues
Continually we bleed
Does anyone notice the end to people and a message that he or she leaves?
Her maybeline tears saltier than the oceans...peaked in glamour waves and emotions ...
I have never seen the heart of love until i gazed into her eyes
Feverishly connected but hidden in a maze of disguise
I call her name but in return only silence caught the waves
The energy of love immortal inexplicably outlives the grave
Eyes as blue as the waters of patagonia and golden locs like sunshine rays
Mesmerizing beauty i'd pay the reaper his due cost to be With her just one more day
Silence soothes the senses with
Sweet sensations showering down
Sweeter than sugar, a seasoning
Saltier than the seas, soft and sensual
Sultry beneath sensitive breaths of
Sunlight sending light to supply a
Subtle and splendid supplication to
Share spiritual stances with souls
Slaving, surviving, seeing past the
Sincerity in serenity, sparkling scenes
Seeing spent ideas swaying with
Signs that a sweetheart sings sweetly
I
Challenge
You to stop
Messing up the
Planet. Recycle, it’s not hard to do.
No more litter should be done. The earth
Is sick. The oz-
One layer
Has a huge
Hole in
It.
Ice
Caps are
Melting the
Oceans are get-
Ting saltier. Species of plants and an-
Imals are dying. Natural disa-
Sters are more fre-
Quent. This should
Cause your
Heart
To
Soften
Seeing us
Mess up the earth,
Really bothers me. I hope that it does
The same action to you. That is why I
Challenge you to
Stop messing
Up the
Earth.
When I am on the hunt if I want fresh
I choose young, it is always fresher meat.
Young bunnies, squirrels, rats, moles, voles.
Tastier, and less of a struggle.
But when my mother’s heart catches their eye,
And I think for a second of my owlets, I sometimes
Let up, and go after something that has had more of a life.
Hoping I will not also catch their eye.
Injured meat is what I swoop for if I have had a long day
And I am tired. Injured meat is easier, struggles less, and
Has a unique fear-based taste that is a little saltier.
I think it is from their blood pumping so hard as they
Struggle to get away. When they see my wing shadow, they know.
The old ones are the easiest, no matter what animal I am
Hunting. At dusk or pure black of night, they are the easiest to take down.
I do not hunt much at dawn, as that is my sleeping time. The old ones
Are grateful when I snap them up. They are ready to be torn apart.
Their spirits are grateful for the relief.
The only problem with the old one’s meat is, that it is tough,
And grainy and is not as blood-tasty as the young or the injured.
My owlets cheer when I drop a young one into our nest. When it
Is an old one, they turn up their beaks. Act like I have failed them.
I am so proud when I run an animal down for them.
The animal sees my wing shadow, and it knows I am a fantastic mother.
The waves beat at the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
White froth churning
My eyes watering
My throat tightening
I open my mouth
Nothing
Silence
Water blissfully moving by me
The silence so sweet
Yet saltier than the ocean waves
Neverending cerulean blue
Wading through this Atlantic oblivion
Wallowing in these dark depths
Deeper
Deeper
Laughing
Water filling my lungs
Crying
Needing you
Needing just a breath
A breath of your chlorine
Your toxic gases that are so inviting
That’ll save me
The waves beat against the shore
Abruptly pouncing
Slowly retreating
Again and again
The sea foam takes me, engulfs me swiftly
As if it’s last supper
You just watch
You don’t help me
I float among the waves, as they gently touch my shoulders
Their fingers so cool yet comforting
Something I craved
They whisper nothings in my ear
They encourage me to follow their maniacal, repetitive beating against the shore
I can finally let myself go
And let these waves take my hands and follow their peculiar dance
That is so freeing
In this freeing bliss
I can rest now
Not at peace but at blissful ignorance
And the thought that I tried
a meal found afloat
high in the water
tasted nasty
tasted super salty
he tightened up into
a huge ball and gave his best spit
but it went back over his head
and the jellyfish said
to a coral one day
this sea is getting thicker
saltier
I think it is drying up
going away
we must hurry
and need to survive
all work together to
evolve
keep our selves alive
build a shell around me
from all that is you
two holes so I can see
enlist the help of
your whole family
I will hold young tubes together until
plankton spreads all gaps with their stretchy bond
I will protect all and
grow a skin in the sun
together we will walk out of
this brine
take our own salty liquid and
hold it inside
I will make a filter
and a place to process food from land
throw away my stingers but
keep the points for my wit
and in a few hundred million years or so
we can write poems about spit
I'm a song
Written in free verse
By a poet
A poet with no words
I'm a soul
Blowin' with the hurricane
Like a teardrop
Saltier than rain
I'm a phrase
With no meaning as such
In a language
That ain't used by much
In the end
When everyone's heading home
I'm lost
In a place where gypsies roam
Methinks all antediluvian Love was
Whiter than snows atop higher tors;
And with more troth dudes did kiss
Purer maidens for pleasanter bliss.
I deem Art shortly after Noah’s Ark
To have been of better-spun spark;
And bards of far more sublime quill
Did indite with stouter metered skill.
Niftier lines which Columbus hymned,
On virgin voyages to terrains deemed
By soil-tilling mortals uninhabited yet;
Such ditties do dim both fear and fret.
Tighter Calvary Faith as Bunyans
Prisoners fell in Hades' vile plans,
Wet-toweling martyrs' spirits bold,
Felt saltier with truer saints of old.
Daintier Oratory and Polemics alike
Did with indeed finer Lincolns spike;
Notches less finessed minions today,
Such steadily sorrier contrasts betray.
Sea
I am inherently patient,
I just go with the flow.
I have many dark secrets,
No one will ever know.
Sometimes I can be shallow,
Sometimes I'm dark and deep.
When you look at me closely
Your face is what you'll see.
I do not have a sweet side,
I am saltier than most.
Some say that I am frigid,
As cold as a raging ghost.
But my beauty is unsurpassed,
Outside as well as in.
Poets seek to describe me,
But I can evade them.
And, Before you know me very well,
You cannot imagine my age,
my ancient stories tell,
Nor count my many graves.
When the storms of life are pouring down
I get angry, destructive, and mean;
I’ve only allowed one Man I loved
to walk all over me.
All else take care , and beware,
My moods wave up and down.
Just as a ship, those who trusts in me,
I'll break, and rend, and drown.
8/7/24
As time always sped by
You can't read this in the headlines
There won't always be a next time
People still fed by
Carefully spread lies
Through a never ending feud over dead guys
It'll take more than ten tries
Just can't always end fine
Yet why
Does all this continual lead fly
Sad, how quickly men die
All alone not a soul by the bed side
I already said mine
Can't fix it with a cracker and red wine
Too many folks staying saltier than french fries
Lots being hypocritical and deer in the headlights
Of other life, will we ever detect signs?
Prelude:
OXYMORONIC
without air
without poetry
— cold
7/20/2020
THE SUMMER STORM
the roof’s removed, eyes closed
a splattering of thunder, lightning, rain
no sticks nor stones
let it rain, frenetically...
Spain* could be no sweeter
sounds could be no saltier
upstanding fan still spins
in unison
who needs air conditioning
when God orchestrates.
the welcome mat’s
soaking wet
i’m not
yet
but if i was
i have
no
complaint.
i hug the grace
God
gives me,
tell my husband
not
to stand
in front of the screen door
his smile
i adore
7/21/2020
*Relates to the tongue twister: “The rain in Spain is mainly in the plain”
She dreamt a dream of a requisite requiem far away,
For the unrequited love of life, led her lanky lamb's limbs astray.
To where she'd dither along the moor's marsh land,
Braved the dreary draughts of randy rain and hindless hail.
She'd return without fail in her frailty.
To where the shadows cast by the leaves of the alders,
Speckled across her open back like silver freckles.
She'd sway in the clearest of days, and lay in the ravage of rain.
And in saltier slathers of gold graced spit,
She'd await the pair of goldfinches to descend upon her silver speckled clit.
Await the trill of their liquid song, sung by their acetone tongue ,
Pecking a silver chime over the pleasure of grated groans.
“No.” Her iron lungs lunged and quivered.
She supposed he knew from his exhale and shiver.
Awake, now, lesserly known nor knowing, moreso,
awaken, alone, but with the haunting face of a *** upon her window,
“outside, look outside”
It called, so she stayed inside, unknown, laying low from the randy ravage of his rage.
9/11/2025