Best Undersea Poems
Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth Century artifact
By ancestors hewn
Earth’s history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions
Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones
To greet early beachcombers
History on loan
Memories of bygone ages
Scattered on the sand
Finally kissed by sun again
While in a searcher’s hand
I pursue this morning trek
With Atlantis on my mind
Seeking proof at last
In treasures I might find
When ancient civilizations
Seem to disappear
Comb the beach, you might find
The evidence is here
For like a phoenix rising
New finds appear each day
And I’ll not stop searching
Till doubts I can allay
Early morning and the gantry cranes
at Webb Dock look like long necked
dinosaurs lining up to drink from the river -
and the sky is aglow as it might have been
when tinged by the first hint of that asteroid
slamming into Yucatan on the other side
of the world 66 million years ago.
This is 2025 and no asteroid threatens
our fragile planet, yet more subtle
things do - things that reside in the dark
precincts of the human soul that pour
out pollution and in silos and undersea,
stoke embers that could at anytime
break free and incinerate us all.
I’m a young boy
A single mother’s son
I’m a young beach beaten by a tsunami
Sent by an undersea earthquake delivering ripples of death
Carrying my mother and hers out to sea
Ravaged sands asking the sunset to reveal the secrets of the sunrise
I’m a father to a wonderful child
A beautiful wife’s husband
I’m the love in each rain drop of a gentle rain
Nurturing arid hearts with the moisture of my words
Watering seeds of the future with hope
The catalyst for the magic of spring
I’m a teacher
A Painter
I’m the strike of a snake
My fang: a pen’s nib full of black venom
Poisoning compressed cellulose pulp;
The anti-venom: beautiful words
Administered through the ink gracing the surface
A student of verse
~ I am a poet ~
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
I was tagged by raul to write a poem that ends with
"I am a poet"
now I'm tagging Elaine George
The sea is aglow with her memories
Seaweed meadows of deep cave treasuries
Stories that summon the lost and curious
Legends embossed in silent reveries
She drifts the illumined waves of her home
Wide blue realms in which she may roam
Her spirit alive beyond undersea depths
In echoes of songs over silver - green foam.
What is it - what does the mermaid know?
Beyond the clouds and winds that blow
That she is woman and nature combined
Her secrets sleep in the ocean below.
Rubaiyat
Rubyiat Contest
Sotto Poet
I wrote this one for the contest 'Mermaids'
that I sponsored. The goal was to capture the essence
of a mermaid. There were many wonderful mermaid poems.
Enter your own competition
Contest Judged: 9/24/2017 5:05:00 PM
Sponsored by: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
2nd Place
101 in a ROW contest -7
Contest Judged: 7/27/2016 9:30:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
6th. Place
On ocean bowride below gentle titans peep
ghost ships of the Pacific hunt and chase -
where great barnacled seafarers of the deep
beneath the waves its blue waters grace.
Old sea tales of killing lance and spear tip
tell of the dying struggle of the flurry -
once more mighty hulks of beast and ship
haunt the dark shadows of the undersea.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Far and yon an old boneyard whaling station
fluking bulls and cows circle the perilled pod,
and breach and dive in fabled echolocation
the bones of Ahab and wreck of the Pequod.
Still ghost ships old hunting grounds scout
that mystic echo whalesong far reaching,
and still cavernous mouths unmade to shout
trap by moon and tide on remote beaching.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Written: July 1992
Is Friendship Just a Delusional Fiction?
Is friendship a lifeboat that floats on convenience?
Can we all divorce who we like with a gesture
that’s less than a wave on a looking glass seascape,
ignore too, the wreckage of dreams that waves scuttle,
consigned to obscurity absent a tombstone,
now fodder for lies (Christ’s saints still love their brothers)?
Man’s ‘truth’ proves flawed compass and ‘sin’ haunts earth’s wheelhouse,
as Science fills mainsails, God’s Ark laps Truth’s oceans!
Some fools think strict planning’s the pearl of all notions,
the wisest of husbands intimidates frail spouse,
views women and children just chattel that bothers,
like friends (a close second) whose wild seeds they’ve not sown.
Control is the issue; dictators aren’t subtle
(a friend who’s not under your thumb can’t be shipshape)!
Yes, freedom and friendship’s an unhealthy mixture
for all the enslaved must kowtow to your brilliance.
Lord, let me own friends who own freedom to doubt me,
who own I’ve the freedom to doubt them in concert,
(our music still blends as soul’s melody’s fragrance,
impinges on Hearing, a flavored denouement),
find women and men friends who love I write poems
that skip on mind’s pond like a pebble, or stone-like,
touch depths that no rhyme’s plumbed, just God’s Love could meter,
source undersea landslide of epic proportion.
May God bless my humor though few think I’m funny;
send rain to help cool me though I’m a weak convert!
Invisible, God does not dote on appearance,
His Grace for the sinner’s a sign of rapprochement
though few may see me to have worth His Grace welcomes.
Should Love a God offers be harsh as the Third Reich?
Provisioned for life, what world could be sweeter?
Not friending who friends you, Love’s close to abortion.
Brian Johnston
26th of January in 2021
I was an inscrutable, capricious mystery writer, like a pure mystery of days;
And I had composed best selling novels, like westering sun's scarlet phase.
An unparalleled passion for writing, had for quite long been the motivation,
Behind novels which captured hearts, like pink clouds, drifting in formation.
My office desk faced the picture window, near the border of riotous blooms;
And sunny views enriched often eager eyes, owing to birds of many plumes.
Friends were a forever force in my life, like the natural floods of floundering,
Or as sun and moon meet in an eclipse, darkening heyday, with no warning.
Fairy-like forests, and fields of colored flowers, flamed with furious abandon,
Frequently, as fulgent family found one, to dazzle brighter than amber sun!
I lived in the house of mist mysteries, in haze shrouded, mighty mountains;
And each cherry dawn doled surprises, like roving redbirds in the thousands.
So sleepy in sun-drenched summer, my silent street was stained with hues,
In new modern, stylish, songbird days, like a gold treasure you cannot lose.
Neighbors would navigate narcissistic night, bearing an apple pie, or a joke;
Sharing fun and noisy laughter, like a blue undersea volcano, magma awoke.
Birds swept peaks of sculpted, stunning mountains, in the hot, daisy season,
And sky and the earth merged twice a day, in affinity hues of love cohesion.
The naked man orchid shivered with breezes, like quivery trees of November,
And Johnny Jump Up puckered at lemon sun, like a sour taste remembered.
In a sapphire sea near the mountains, a friend and I set out sailing one day,
As a youth follows wildest, golden dreams. Yet, heavy fog descended to stay.
Were we heading for wide open water, or drifting to shores of purple flowers?
That danger held a lovely mystery, like adventure during the nighttime hours.
Hour after rosy hour, we were drifting blind. Our motor had long since died;
Like green butterflies, questing for hours, in a place pink daisies lately cried.
We were afraid of being lost forever, so Pearl and I joined hands and prayed,
Also praying for our downhearted families, if fate's hand would not be stayed.
After many anxious, vagrant moments, a foghorn sounded, loud and so near;
Our desperate prayers were answered, by the voice of our Savior, very dear!
For as long as I remember
I've known you
You're the first friend I'd ever had
And the best one too
Don't remember a time
That I couldn't find
A friend in you
We met one day
And seemed to hit it off
Soon I'd say
You're my best friend
No matter where I am
I know you'll always lend
A helping hand
I was the new girl in school
And you were too
Didn't know anyone else
So I sat to talk to you
I can tell you my secrets
And you don't tell a soul
Its easy to see that
Together we aren't alone
You moved in during high school
And I said hi once or twice
Mostly I ignored you
Although you seemed nice
Then suddenly you were
Everywhere I looked
You became my best friend
Mostly by default
I was a freshman
And you were way old
Almost a senior
Almost as bold
You took me under your wing
Taught me how to fly
Now I can say
You're a brother in my eyes
Dive beneath the sea
To find my place of peace
An undersea city
Filled with pieces
Of me
All my memories
In my undersea city
My undersea city
With the ones who touched my life
Guiding me along my path
Helping me to find
Who I am, and who I'll be
In my undersea city
They are the chariots of mermaids, the undersea calliopes
They grace the waves with their ballet
They are the turquoise flash within the spray
They are the steeds of Poseidon, the dreams of faeries
They are the fantasy Camelot carries
They are the coral's escaping sway
They are the treasure chest's display
They are the jewels of Amphitrite
The diluted rainbow tracks their courses
Through brambles sandy and seaweed fine
The blackness brightens in alabaster forces
With water sprite's gold of ubiquitous mines
Gossamer silkies ride these horses-
The silver of silent hooves shine divine!
Below earth, streams release the arteries
of the undersea teeming with precious
abalone, granite and shells,
as a roulette of lotus defies gravity
soaking on the chlorine of a wind
only piles of sand can bestow…
and gentle the wavelets murmuring
hymns of serenity , somewhat delicate
as ocean mouth is to fish lips in the moist pulse
of swelling spaces for wooden fleets
to beckon the blue.
Like so, guardian of water observes the cruise
of a ship rustling a masthead…
intrusive vessels are aliens
to the underworld: greedy eyes, black hands
that rake mothers of pearl and babes of dolphins.
Fierce dugongs roll along, shaking the basement
of hunters’ boats on inlets
to pound doors of Neptune’s bed,
reflecting mirrors of an island scented
with coconut and tresses of women
bathing along coasts of such innocent gulfs.
Below earth, a divide between friends and foes
is honored; that beyond words,
a sea keeper rises to acknowledge
the kindness of strangers,
if they are kind enough to respect the gift of privacy.
10/2/2015
Chase Trevi's Contest:
Open Sea - Sailing, Creatures, Treasures
Seahorses on see-saws prance, sashay and dance
gliding majestically under the sea.
No clip nor clop for this aquatic steed
for no legs adorn its knight-in-armour body.
Instead its fins keep these hippocampus poised
as they gambol gently and frolic about.
But of course it's a horse
with its tell-tale head and mane.
Ignore the odd prehensile tail
that some over-zealous strapper coiled.
It's a special horse for an undersea course
swirling and whirling silently
through seaweed strap slalom gates.
With no trot, nor canter, nor gallop, nor panting,
but with a leisurely pace in ambling gait,
like the painted horses on a merry-go-round,
the seahorse is forever poised,
in true dressage collection.
There is no ‘you’ or ‘I’
Except that you choose
to call the fat clouds a name
and make them feel like overlords upon the others.
And, there is neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’
when we collect in droplets into rain
and percolate the crevices between rocks and questions.
The free flowing water you rinse your feet in
Collects the geography of the places you’ve been to
That the same water you now wash your hands with, is what
You once called ‘dirty’ and fed to the gutters of nevermore.
There is no ‘you’ or ‘I’, save ‘we’
We, driblets of water
Garnering into puddles,
Some, redeemed in pots of human bellies.
And, there is neither ‘you’ nor ‘I’
Little dribs charged with pain, break out
As saline rain, bouncing off troubled eyes,
A cesspool of wails in the offing.
And some others, not ‘you’, not ‘I’
Distraught to meet this uncertain world
Are lagged in rocks, trapped prisoners.
We are all waters, variously hued
To boil in teapots and warm the mien of takers
And a few, crystallized into heart-shaped cubes,
Are nursed between the parched tongues of lovers.
Loin waters all! Congealed over time
Sneaked into places like shy rivers
Collecting genetic snapshots of their bearers
Then those ones frozen by fear, iceberg-solid
Make the routes of our ideas unpassable
A few, like calm ponds
Unperturbed by gravity and noise
Undress before the caress of the setting sun
We all are waters,
Not you, not I, but we; streaming
In endless pursuit on the surface
While selfsame dispatch, gather like roots undersea.
**previously published in Sentinel Quarterly Review
the seahorses grazed in a field undersea
the jellyfish wobbled at the party
the starfish in their constellations went
the clams secretive tight lipped and silent
the hammerhead sharks did the DIY
the clown fish entertained as they swam by
the plankton ruled undersea in their gangs
the octopuses spent too long shaking hands
the crabs on the side their day they spent
the lobsters approached in a pincer movement
the sea urchins loitered dishevelled and poor
while the oysters enjoyed everything and all
Witnessed together, both the bright sun and the faint moon.
Oh!That early morning cruise was really a fortuitous boon;
Ride on the banana boat, and snorkeling in the Havelock Island,
Lightened up my mood; The colors of captivating coral leafs and
Delightful marine life rendered a mesmerizing magical tune.
Couldn't forget the scuba diving, where I glimpsed Harlequin wonders.
Rapture embraced me when I did parasailing and my distress got plundered;
Undersea walking was such a lovely experience, where I touched the sea floor
In short, it was the best place to experience the undersea and to explore;
Sailing across the Andaman island made me overcome the fears of oceans,
Enjoyed exuberant cruise with remarkable memories and numerous emotions
Nessie, Wattie and Kin
A full ten years before Nessie was first sighted
Colonel Arthur Trimble visited Loch Watten
A dark, looming shape Trimble’s interest ignited
It’s now speculated Nessie has some twins
Oceanographers say that before the Ice Age
Loch Ness was connected to the Atlantic sea
So let us turn the history book back a page
A similar creature’s been seen in Lake Erie
American cousins for Nessie and Wattie
Giant sea serpent’s been spotted in Lake Champlain
He is known as Champ and Lake Erie’s is Bessie
Four ocean cast outs roam an inland sea domain
Could it be that the plesiosaurus lives on
In Scotland as well as in North America
Trapped in these lakes when the Ice Age seas had withdrawn
At same latitudes, but not killers like Orka
So if I make my way to see bonnie Scotland
I’ll be chartering a boat, bringing diving gear
In hopes of catching a glimpse of Nessie firsthand
As I explore Loch Ness’s undersea frontier
*Entry for Thvia's contest