Best Santa Cruz Poems
So many memories I have are summer-colored, like those walking-down-the-lane days recalled in various hues of green. Green for Grandpa’s cornfields spread all around us and green for the grass on which my sisters and I used to run and play.
Besides that color green, which prettily surrounded me through all my childhood,
I think a favorite memory would be the colors of one lovely day spent with my family, the family created by my spouse and me and a day our kids were young.
We lived near San Francisco. Few troubles plagued us then and I loved our short time in California! One summer day at last we went to see the beach of Santa Cruz.
I don’t remember details of everything we did. We walked along the boardwalk, naturally. I’m sure the kids, both pre-teens, enjoyed the rides. Even I was every bit as excited as the two of them. I’m sure my spouse and I took pictures, ate good-tasting food and watched our children doing things all children love to do.
But what stood out for me was our time spent on the beach and how we all jumped up to greet each wave that tumbled toward us time and time again to knock us down. What pure pleasure in the splashes of blue that fun-filled day, the blue of the Pacific, which chilled me at the start until I warmed to it as the yellow sun in blue of sky above smiled down on us.
Yes, the blue of sky and water and the constant shining yellow of the sun:
those would be the colors of my favorite summer memory -when times were good and we were young and simply having fun.
new colors emerge
in the autumn of one's life
soon is winter's dirge
as blue asters wave in fields
bye-bye to sweet summer time
For the Haibun Free-Style Contest of scott thirtyseven
Really, only five years have past
Since your son’s abandoned car was found,
No note,
Along side sea cliffs
North of Santa Cruz,
After failing with pills,
Too many times.
No body either,
Though at times I prayed for that.
Wincing now myself at your pain
As you hand beggars at streetlights
A few dollars, as you pray, heart broken,
Some empathetic soul is doing the same
For your son, should he still be alive,
Watching your head turn wistfully to search the face
Of distant beggars on the wrong side of the street,
Both of us feeling in our hearts that he is gone.
Rested, before dawn breaks,
I close the distance night has sanctioned,
Move closer,
Take you in my arms
Feel tension release
As sleep finds its meter,
Breath its rhyme.
The body’s warmth
Giving dreams new assurance.
The sweet sound of your sleeping
Now informs my answered prayer
Deft moves that fluff me into compliance
Help me to trust some needs at least are met,
My own sleep, pulls on my sleeve like a child,
As watchful still, I succumb to warmth of your heart,
That even in its half-full, depleted state,
Still has the power to make my sun rise.
Brian Johnston
December 5, 2015
Santa Cruz, the early morning’s
cold air damp and gray
than sunshine emerges gold and
folds into the maple and piney leaves
as curelium takes over high on the hills above
while over the ocean to the west still lies
the misty skies of blue haze
He sat and told me not to read
not NIH or Tumor Insight
or any such journal, he told me
to stop wondering what would be
when that happened he
and Stanford would tell me what I
could do. the disease was very rare,
at 2 years I was well beyond the norm.
he told me to enjoy the bright purple
sun laced flowers, the white intensity of
the moon, to walk my dogs
to watch them play
to be alive to the bird songs
before the winds and waves come crashing
through the darkness of the storm
ocean waves roll in foam
winds howl clouds darken streets roll
mother earth takes hold
A Renga:
A Single Blossom
Santa Cruz Harbor,
The sound of barking seals
In the morning fog
Summer heat pushes people
To the California coast
Watching the sunset,
Newlyweds are holding hands
On the balcony
A power outage has occurred,
But nobody seems to mind
The moon is rising
Over the distant mountains
In the cool fall air
She adjusts the thermostat
To a much lower setting
"We should concentrate.
We are blowing our budget.
Where is it going?"
He puts the folders away
And gazes out the window
Relentless winds blow,
Whistling through the power lines
Past the frozen pond
A diner prepares coffee
In the early morning light
The hawthorn blossoms,
White, with a tinge of yellow,
Bright against the leaves
She plucks a single blossom
And places it in her hair
So many memories I have are summer-colored,
like those walking-down-the-lane days recalled in various hues of green.
Green for Grandpa’s cornfields spread all around us
and green for the grass on which my sisters and I used to run and play.
Besides that color green, which prettily surrounded me through all my childhood,
I think a favorite memory would be
the colors of one lovely day spent with my family,
the family created by my spouse and me and a day our kids were young.
We lived near San Francisco.
Few troubles plagued us then and I loved our short time in California!
One summer day at last we went to see the beach of Santa Cruz.
I don’t remember details of everything we did.
We walked along the boardwalk, naturally.
I’m sure the kids, both pre-teens, enjoyed the rides.
Even I was every bit as excited as the two of them.
I’m sure my spouse and I took pictures, ate good-tasting food
and watched our children doing things all children love to do.
But what stood out for me was our time spent on the beach
and how we all jumped up to greet each wave that tumbled toward us
time and time again to knock us down.
What pure pleasure in the splashes of blue that fun-filled day,
the blue of the Pacific, which chilled me at the start
until I warmed to it as the yellow sun in blue of sky above
smiled down on us.
Yes, the blue of sky and water
and the constant shining yellow of the sun:
those would be the colors of my favorite summer memory -
when times were good and we were young and simply having fun.
For the Summertime Contest of Janis Thompson
All over Italy north and south
Cows and goats and their cheeses
Corn polenta, mid-land pastas
There white and red wine always pleases
Beans and cabbages poor man’s wishes
Folded with tomatoes and onions
Add broth, and eatable Allium that helps the best dishes
That strong flavored bulb even illnesses eases
Ah Italy the chefs and mothers have such genius
The country endowed with uncommon vigor of mind
There you will find versions of dishes of every kind
And though the Nazis were there people still dined
Many sent their meats and cheeses to barns and homes
Where people would run and hide leaving the worse behind
Reminding us Bologna gave us sauce, pasta and pears
In remembrance still everyone gathers and shares
Ah Italy how I wish I could again be there
But tonight in Santa Cruz there will be —
Still be tomatoes, cheeses, pasta and pears
THE MERCHANT’S GIFT
It was just a lucky break-in
Christmas Eve rich old Casey drunk
Not a soul on the floor
The late rush was over
Casey’d turned off the lights but
Forgot to lock the door
The old safe cracked so easy –
Mostly twenties tens fifties –
Robin left the change hurried out
He pulled the bills counted –
One thousand twenty bucks –
God! He wanted to shout
Their dented pot hung sparse
Maria and Joe were so hungry,
Their children at home hungry cold
Robin was hungry too
He fished the bag of bills,
Took twenty from the hold
Sad the couple’s jingling
When most were warm at home that night
But Robin had great news
He smiled sauntered up flung his loot
“Hah! This thousand for your empty pot
From Robin Santa Cruz.”
One day in Trinidad
Was with my brother
Down in San Fernando
See a girl walking up the street
From the store window
And I ask roger
If he knows her
And when we came out side
She was already in a car
Then she looks at me
As the car drives away
Couldn’t get her of my mind
Thought of her the whole day
And roger say don’t worry
We will try to find her
You full the tank with gas
And I will drive the car
So we start from princess town
Thru Claxton Bay /Pointe-a-Pierre
We reach all the to St. Mary's / Waterloo
But the girl was no where
Who is this mystery lady?
I am looking for in Trinidad
Don’t even know her name
But want to meet her very bad
Roger say lets call we Cousin Julie
She know people from Couva to Caratal
She ask we how the girl look
Then say boy I don’t know her at all
Stop and drink some coconut water
Then drive up to Port of Spain
Pass thru Maracas Bay/Santa Cruz
But we didn’t see her again
Who is this mystery lady?
Some where in Trinidad
Don’t even knows her name
But still I’m feeling sad
From St. Ann's/Cascade/Mon Repos
To debe/penal/ Barrackpore
From maracas/st.joseph/lopinot
But we never see her no more
So we when to mayaro beach
Beautiful day with the sky so blue
We stop to buy some doubles from a girl
And you will never guess who
Now having bee’s ice cream couple years after
She laughs when our baby mess her blouse
We been married two years now
And having bar be que by Julie’s by house
the moon commences its' illusion
it rides the crest fully
survivor of Roche's Limit
survivor of human prediction
filling the night with shadow
my early morning walks
the light in the distance
calls thru canopied jungle path
the setting moon
stepping on the soft white beach
where a silver highway plays
in the rippling water, i am
the human past who long ago
beheld such a sight
without the shaman's cheap trick
nor the cold touch of science
have accepted the moon just is
beautiful to behold
we let each other be
we are one and the same
dancing thru the universe
and when this is no more
we will be lip to lip
i do not know what God is
and have no such need
yet whatever it is
it is magnificent
the heavens live to die
and in that death
life finds itself again
my wishes, mere mortal longing
that so might i
even Rimbaud capitulated
the reprobates' fear of reprobation
and i have but one question
before the empyreal throne
is there in heaven, a moon
Norma's roof Santa Cruz 95
THE LABEL I HIDE ON THE WINE BOTTLE There was no real need to know of the brand I did not want to prejudice the taste The wine was chosen on its own merit
THEY TOLD ME OF THE PSYCHO CAT'S DEMISE There was no need to prolong misery It was better for everyone concerned All the family totally agreed
SABBATICAL DREAMS AFTER QUARANTINE
Altered behavior will always follow Some families get closer; some farther The population may also increase
EERIE BOARDWALK CREAKS NEAR THE WHITE SAND BEACH Reminds me of the Santa Cruz boardwalk We were at that beach forty years ago Funny how time also made my bones creak
090420PSCtest, Collaborate With Me, Kim Rodrigues
10 syllables per line(Syllable counter). 1P
Early mission's ruin makes chaff.
Former pride's diminished by half.
Seen now old destruction's no laugh.
Glory's faded.
Rogues were ruled not by an oak staff.
Prudence jaded.
I love Christmas as it brings unity
& for peace it plays a major role,
I see either a brother or a sister
in every Christian’s soft tender soul.
I see a global family which enriched with
people from numerous castes & religion,
In every Christmas I found a divine light
that glows & brings joy removing tension.
I like festivals that flow like a river
carrying stream of nectar for all,
Christmas is such a sacrosanct river
that flows in every corner of universe.
Santa Cruz, chocolate, gift, Christmas tree
These are things that makes earth nice,
I love Christmas and all my Christian friends
because they are promoting human life.
Santa Cruz
it was deep and blue-green and you could
see the sandy bottom where mako sharks circled
the boat, waiting for scraps, a habit they'd
learnt from the tour boats
that's when I heard the sound I hadn't heard
anytime before, a rasping blow of air,stifled
by the blood-foam sea and granite drum rocks
of the jagged cave nearby
I took up the anchor and let the crafty current
pull me over to listen more: the cave, like an
open sore...
a home to birds and maybe more?
the dark hole,seen many times before but
never entered, drew us in, me and the bobbing
sea-sick boat:the sound grew louder and filled
my ears and a shaft of ocean light shone on a
sight I knew...a gigantic whale...vast and drawn,
filled the dark dank seaweed cave
the blow hole blew the living spray which bounced
off the rock roof and pierced the sea below, a thousand
darts at play
and I came up close to the him,in the choppy tropical sea
and saw his eye, the size of a saint's halo looking out at
this new,dark closed world
and I wondered what he was thinking...
then as if giving me his final goodbye, he sprayed and blew,
then rolled over onto his side, revealing his white,ribbed
underbelly, now safe from the whaler's knife
and I shook off a tear and swept the hair from my face,
gunning the boat's motor against current and wind
and as I made distance away from the cave I thought I
heard a sound, or was it the reefs and the bouncing
waves below, like an army of humpbacks saluting a friend,
before the hammerheads and makos swam in for the end?
and the sun-cracked sky and the salt in my face spoke,
"you'll never forget what happened this day"
His eyes were blue. I've romanticize those electric eyes he's got. His eyes were the sea I was swimming in, crashed into me like waves, and I drown in his eyes like the ocean. I bet girls won't ever see, he's the Santa Cruz ocean at night when no one's around. Irrational? Maybe, but who knows?
All I know is, his eyes are blue with that hint of blue green surrounding his pupil and when they're looking back at me, I can tell he's falling because, his smile has those eyes curling up slightly. I crave those lips to kiss me because, that moment he came around, introduced himself with the reject style, kissing him, oh god, I wouldn't ever stop.
His eyes are blue electric and before him, red was my color. The deep red of my heartbeat with passion. He's some fancy sunset that every girl want to capture. Now, blue has caught my eye and became my favorite. I won't ever tell him, he's a deep orange of a sunset that won't set an that's a reason I hope makes him blush.
His eyes are blue. If he walked into a room, down those late night streets, my eyes would always find him. He's become a part of me that won't ever be removed no matter who walks in or out of my life.
I'm not really into eye contact, I hardly ever liked it, but when someone asks personal things, eye contact turns into me looking at floor, but god, I could look in those blue eyes of his till mine dry and become hollow. But lately, I realized, his giggle was the adorable kind where, he covers his mouth or tries to hide it and his heart shines in his eyes.
His eyes are blue electric, and I know we both have gone to disconnection, but my blue eyes keep searching for you and always will. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if his child will end up with those blue electric eyes.
His eyes were blue and since he walked away, I can't help but, miss him.
It's so fun to play eachothers
lives
write it down
come get inside
on these Giant Carnival Rides
It was a Giant Good One
And it's written all over your
face
I was just looking for this pencil
when i was thinking of you.
It's all in your brain Big Dummy
Don't let it kill you!
Before I do
I'm getting loser
TO YOU!