Best Submerged Poems
Shimmering silhouettes haunt.
Shadow stands still,
observing his soul drift towards
the tree of melancholy.
Its morbid image stands silent,
but screams inside the mind.
I could write a million pensive poems,
yet the pen could never express,
how emotions remain unexplained,
because suppressed silent theories
and words left unspoken mean
regretful raindrops fall to the
rhythm of each somber sigh.
Tears create shallow streams,
but still we remain submerged.
Eight years on and I wonder,
if we will stay here forever.
Simple Musing
Silent One
18 November 2018
Submerged in thought, my mind flows.
I'm a majestic river
with all it's curves and bends
running over rocks 'round obstructions
gathering strength and speed.
Above I catch a glimpse of the sun
shimmering off the eye of young cygnet
so white and pure without commitment
calm, loving and carefree
looking to soak up all my nutrients.
to be young once again
with a new chance at love
no fear of what lies beneath the surface.
Making memories forgetting fantasies.
Here I sit lost in thought
about life and love
trials and pain
blessings and destinies.
Sickle moon gray above the waves
The quiet directionless wind
On the earth, and in the sky above
A veil is drawn, cutting into dark spots
Slowly round and round,
Murals are etched into the sand
The statue waits with eyes unblinking
Silent wonder, solitary armless stone
Twisted, counter-pose, forever fixed,
Wonder, what does she see under water?
Rusty bows and sterns, shipwrecks,
Silvery fish fluttering in and out of hulls, a
graveyard outside hallowed ground
Archway, the great doors dark and closed
Murky, wet light pours in vaulted windows
Through water-worn edges of stained glass
Seaweed tendrils curl around an altar
Once, quiet processions marched up the aisle
They are now only filtered ghosts,
Murmuring, wavy impressions of what was
Forever, the tide calls upon the great steeple
And the lonely under-toe,
Pulls a mote in the sand around her,
To protect the bastion in the sea,
Dark, lovely, lost forever to those above
I was always disrespected,
Treated as optional person.
I was ignored many a times,
Betrayed a lot as if I was enemy.
No one feeled my absence, rather they celebrated.
If I go, no one called me back.
No one asked me for a gift.
I was like a piece of cloth,
wen I was new, I was loved.
But when I got ruined,
I was thrown out with no care.
Do you know the reason why all these frolic things happened with me?
Because,
I lived with vivacity,
I respected others more than myself.
I lived for those who needed me.
Now, I am helpless,
Torn like an old diary, with missing pages of attitude, esteem, pride.
O! Universe, Help me to re-built.
intoxicated with agony and pain,
Give me support to walk with vitality.
I wants to smile like all do.....
Want to be loved by someone truly.
I wants to be king, of sumone's heart, Not of the entire world.
Need a meaning to my life.
Separate me from this meaningless life, please.
Once Submerged Beneath The Dark, Accursed Sea
Darkened winds beyond the long and hidden veil,
Rising sea its calm repose then casts away,
From some distance away, moaning church bell
Calling faithful and sinners, come lets pray
Tho' Fate with its power cries more in store
Here I stood, stoutly battling the unknown
With feeble words, I did each plea implore
For greater mercy and light to be shown.
Horrific dark power blasts heart and soul
Curse given out by death's repugnant hand
Raging waters swirl, bringing Fated toll
Painful cuts slash beauty of all the land
Fate with its power cries such shall be so
And mortals shall then fear my awesome wrath
At birth each is destined to soon go
Beyond the veil on a mystery path.
Although the defiant this end may cry
And with bravado seek to change that course
None, nary one Fated ending defy
Beyond the veil, all dreams flesh must divorce
Thus I stood, sword broken shield cast away
Mere flesh raging against eternity
Then the bell rang, sounding, come here to pray
For light and truth offers infinity.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-19-2022
Rhyme, ( Praying To Again Embrace The Much Needed Light )
Missing the Ocean of my Dreams
Got hooked on the Ephemeral Enigma...
Created was my own Universe in a man-made container
...Round but, Oh!... so Narrow...
My sooner or later corpse will become blue.
Ocean Blue???
or Black and blue...???
I rinse my brain with blue play-on-words
just to forget the Reality of seagulls dying in the sunset
prelude to the unavoidable fetal position...of Mortal Nakedness...
copyright@iolandascripca2012
Of all the thoughts
man's mind was
equipped to have:
the envious
the murderous
the suicidal
the joyous
the inexplicable
none come quite as dangerous as the
thoughts he gets in the shower.
they make reality drizzle
on his cold feet
and wet his hair
with possibility
as loneliness reeks
fresh through
shampoo bottles
these thoughts they
put him back in his
baby-shell.
they seep through,
consuming...
lingering...
uninterrupted-
by the water that never runs out.
Don't wake me up with whispers devastating Soul
Eyelids? Two petals of withered, love-thirsty rose
I dance in white and black with fins in Paradise
Ephemeral Self defending Purity of nameless cloud...
Don't trace my steps contouring our Dark horizons
HE watched through branches when we played “Sunset”
I told a homeless seagull: “ You know? Don't need to suffer
I'm growing gills of Hope... submerged in Fantasy...
(photo is on my Wall on Facebook...)
SUBMERGED IN FEMININESSENCE
e valued price of
precious key
unchaining doors imagined locks
that set free
a girl is born
the stage is set
manoeuvring moves
that control and direct
discerning a world
through perceptive eyes
instinctively she knows
all truth from lies
then
we fail to….
RECLAIM OUR
LUMINESCENSE
FEMININESSENCE
F earless faithful friendly funny and frank
E xhuberant emotional energetic or easygoing
M ultifaceted masterpieces mighty yet modest
A ffectionate adaptable amicable but ambitious
L oving loyal life-givers lusciously lofty in lingerie
E nthusiastically effective embracing edified by
FEMININESSENCE
“Ginger Rogers did everything that Fred Astaire did
but…She did it backwards and in high heels”
(Inspired and written for all woman to remind them they are Princesses and Perfect in Gods eyes)
© Kim van Breda—9 August 2014
the old sea-pool churns out fun
frantic heads flick side to side, limbs flashing, thrashing
some are slicing, cutting through
elegant submariners chased by water-wake
here is one of distinction!
stylistic splasher, appendages pummelling
plunge under, submerged from sight
absent for longer than you are prepared to look
where is he? where's goggle-eyes?
he's there on the diving board, arm and body poised
launches out, " Dymo " diving
flat trajectory, depth-charge slap, bow-wave rippling
then disappears down the years
is that really him? no goggles, the next-door house
distinctly in there somewhere
reclusive, settled deep in the parental home
comes up for air, now and then
bicycle scuttles by, too fast, no time for talk
submerged by night-time shadows
the rare morning breaks, he is there! so have a word
chat about those poolside days
glimmer in his eyes, about to say, turns away
hasty retreat back through time
" Dymo's " really gone now, submerged, bow-wave rippling
days merge, weeks, months and decades
we misplace our keys to unlock the present now
cascading hullabaloo
our minds fill up with noise, too much whoosh, too much din
frustration bangs the door
we exasperate, repeat our repetitions
submerged below the moment
grasp at recognition, at memory sticking
immersion, pressure building
hold our breath, hold our years inside the pool of joy
rush up again, what's the fuss?
hanging on, kick the feet, relaunch, bow-wave rippling
Sounds creep into my ear, sounds that have wandered
over these valleys, mounts and plains, once debased by ruined man,
sounds that creep from the crevices of these wrecks, they have wandered-
over time and seasons, under the sky, now painted cyan.
They tell me of mortal spoils,
how the living scorched the earth by mindless strife and broils.
They tell me of diabolic alchemy,
how golden fields burned, screaming, for what was the devil’s euphony.
These sounds have survived that marriage between man and arms,
they now course through these settlements, homes and barns.
Appraising these stories about the power of time,
telling these innocent mortals of the epochs of wartime.
They sing of its glory- time - it is unrelenting, unforgiving, almighty and true,
the time, it is often called God, Zeus, the fourth dimension –
has changed the colour of this atmosphere which now bears a unique hue,
has altered what comprised the heavens - the sky wasn’t always blue.
They sing of its work – time – has achieved so much more than what we could,
has subverted the things that we did, wouldn’t and would
do for us and that which isn’t us,
things -most unnecessary, unneeded- over which we’d fuss.
It is time, which has dug the graves of those in history,
who came, killed, conquered and ruled – time is revealing, yet itself, a mystery.
It is time, which has taught these people the might of words and the plight caused by cruelty, hatred and those who did fight.
What remains now, are memoirs, lessons, and all that could be absorbed,
from these once-unfortunate grounds that reeked of blood,
for they now have sprawling grass that covers carcases of hateful man, intermingled and nourishing the mud.
Time, it is an overlord of entropy and dissipates accumulated hate and shock,
Time, it keeps untold histories submerged under the clock.
A hidden protected love which will surface now and than. Submerged into the
deepest waters of the ocean floor. Why it is so still? Like an ocean plant frozen in
place. Could it be devoured? Only by yourself. No one else can harm this submerged
love and the effect it has on us.
It's like a gateway of roads and highways manifesting into a bold flight with colorful
patterns of gazing light that enters in our eyes and alows a sudden twinkle. This
love is submerged deep into the mounds of lakes and rivers combining forced
airways climbing through our hearts.
We can visualize almost anything but a silent love that only shows itself when
invited.
Love can be dwelling or it can be timid. However it shows itself is how the true love
feels. It can overpower you or just look you in the eye. Either way it is gentle. Like
an anchor which is held down this love is anchored but can release itself as a gentle
blossom flourishing like a million blossoms from one vine to another. Climbing to the
top and finding it's way home.
Fingers pull at sunlight, warm and trembling,
curling it around small, unstoppable palms.
Dust sparkles in the air like fairy particles,
twirling and whirling as if the sky itself,
is shaking secrets like sprinkles just for me.
The carpet folds beneath bare toes, soft as moss and rough as bark,
each step a drumbeat in a forest of my own making.
The tongue tastes words as they form, sweet with dust and sharp with soap,
syllables ripening before they leave the lips.
Shadows slither across walls, curling and uncoiling,
following the hum of laughter that trembles in the throat and spills like water.
Torchlight puppets move across surfaces as I narrate stories of beasts and wonders,
I have not yet lived to see,
yet they feel as real as any game of pretence,
as real as the tents I build and the villages I raise,
from mats and bedsheets, with soft toys aligned as citizens.
All puddles tremble under my boots, reflecting clouds that wink and wander,
a leaf pirouetting from nowhere, a stick humming secret music,
and the wind pressing soft against the nape of my neck,
telling stories in a language only skin can hear.
Knees bloom with tiny triumphs, trenches of scraped concrete,
deepened by running barefoot, but nothing my mother cannot coo away.
My hands remain sticky with juice and glue, ears wide for the scrape of a chair,
the creak of a door, the whisper of pages, the symphony of ordinary miracles.
And still, my eyes open wider, drinking the tilt of light,
the smell of wet earth, the shimmer of moving air.
The world is alive, trembling, waiting for nothing,
but to be touched and tumbled through by little smiles,
a submerged continent rising just for my delight.
I was about almost four
Did not yet know how to swim
I was playing by the pool
Unsupervised, I fell in
I'm sure I fought screaming
To stay atop of the surface
Splashing hectic and fast
No one close to have heard it
Knowing the fighter I am
With no memory of the event
But I bet I fought long
Until my last breathe it gave in
I grew tired from fighting
I went motionless and sank
Down to the bottom I went
Went down like a tank
No word on how long
I was down there submerged
My uncle is who found me
His voice the first that they heard
He jumped in as he yelled
Straight for me no explanation
Pulled me out performed CPR
Quick with no hesitation
So thanks to my uncle
I owe my life to that man
If it wasn't for him, my son
Would not walk on this land
My uncle's not with us anymore
Becuase of him I'm not hurt
He saved me that day
From being submerged
Written 3-13-19
Dedicated to Aaron Toney 1969-2011
This one is a true story. I was a young child playing. My uncle Aaron happened to be walking by at the right moment and found me. He told me the story with such passion, as I got older. I do not remember what happened but just waking up in the hospital. My uncle paced away when I was 21. A few months befor my son was born. I love and miss him. But becuase of my uncle i am here and my son gets a chance on life, and my family name lives on. He saved a generation in a sense. He is Always thought about and never forgot, I love you uncle Aaron. Thank you
Toes dip in
to the deep water below.
I can’t move to get out.
Inch by inch
slowly sinking,
I raise my eyes to the sky.
My chest feels tight
I try to steady my breath,
Fearful of the surrounding solace.
I am still, unmoving.
It keeps coming.
Cold and unfeeling.
Lifeless without peace,
my head under water.
I am succumbing to the dark.
Denying the blackness…
drowning
deep
down
dying