Best Waving Poems
Ocean calls,
From the endless to the shore.
Not one,
Yet,
Countless waves,
Calling your name.
Never mind the numbering,
Foolish to know,
Only this,
From Beyond it's proclaimed as Love.
Heaven to the opened sea,
The blue beauty must obey,
Inviting you to walk on,
Go deep,
And in between.
Therefore,
Sea water,
Ink in pen.
Ocean tide,
I hear you well,
In the calling,
Her name.
You know who you are,
Time to go poetry swimming,
My Friend.
Ocean Poet-
air rockets skyward
uppercutting inside
plastic neon flesh
contorting at inhuman angles
what does my body language spell?
ankles anchored into the Earth
to stay grounded as the wave
of time and space crashes
a flood of stagnant flux
there is a symphony of bones
snapping and cracking
in twisted orchestrations
the act of existing for me
is a resilient demonstration
He clipped another one out of the news
The head on collision of Mr. Bob Hughes
Tacking it to his wall, he laughed to himself
Those trusting fools, he’d so kindly “helped”
He never thought he would like his work
But being a garbage man sure had its perks!
When stopped on a curve or on top of a hill
He waved people on, instantly thrilled
If another car was coming from the opposite direction
They made the most beautiful metal-to-metal connections
And the best part about it, was that if they survived,
They had no memory of him waving them by!
His wall’s almost full of people like Bob
Trying to get home, or on to their jobs
So don’t let his uniform fool your eyes
Just ask yourself this before you pass by -
Is the smiling man on the garbage truck
Helping me out, or setting me up?
If you just wait, seconds, minutes, to go,
Instead of trusting someone you don’t even know
You’ll have a better chance of staying alive
And not ending up on the wall of foolish drivers,
Where he especially loves pictures of smashed up cars,
To post above his articles, like golden stars
9/28/11
Old glory is waving
Fireworks are booming
God bless America
Fireworks contest
in the waving of the corn
In waves of corn maturing
Within the fields of wheat
Anguished crosses
of which we bare
to truth needs telling
before life’s alters comming
Silence broken before its dawn
freed its travelers in
well of thirsty burning
released anew in their callings
Destinations that are to come
still half dreaming yet still awake
hearts restored within
life’s beginnings
Distilled and pure
candles glowing shadows cast
wavering light gently flickers
peace unfolding within its past
in traffic there is an accidie and weariness
and flatness and humdrum of the road
but leonard cohen helps with that
and i think about the poor north koreans
without their fix of coca cola
and the mental health of the finnish with
their billabong of coffee and caffeine flowing
out their ears and the best brand of water in china
has the biggest market reach and woodpeckers don't
get headaches because according to a
professional content provider they just don't
and speaking of the chinese
they've found a hut on the moon
some distance away from their rover; who can tell
who might be living in that hut
i look up out the windscreen at the moon
and imagine myself living in that hut
or maybe leonard cohen is living there now
and england have lost the first ashes test
and outside the hut is a scoreboard showing
australia need twenty runs to win
the hut has become a pavilion and there's plenty of
tea drinking going on
no finnish there pal
and someone shouts howssszat! across the galaxy
as asteroid 4660 nereus misses earth
as i miss childhood
it travels on and on into the depths of the saddle
of the universe
Waving to the bus driver
Coming on the bus. Door closing.
Journey. To my workplace. Get off.
I say thank you, and I wave to the driver
From the bottom of my heart
The driver waves back
The smile of driver is honest
Beautiful
This daily moment
Out on Weeks Lease, shall do few things as I please
First, camp at base of Mt. Everest
Breathe same air, imbibe the mountains energy so vast
Seek to know, “what it takes to be World’s highest”
"How it feels when it goes under Conquerors feet"
Gather, "gracious in odd defeat, salute Victors flag waving on chest"
Next, anchor at shore of Ganges
Bathe, imbibe the energy flowing since ages
Cool though polluted abused by the pilgrims
Seek to know, “what it takes to carry sacred belief and dreams”
Gather," focus on strength, upkeep flow, forgiveness cleans"
Last, stand next to Leaning Tower of Pisa, famous Bell tower
Stare at head leaning humbly as if murmuring in Visitors ear
“Never compromise on foundation, else live ever in fear"
"Lose not hope, care and time settles weak foundation so rare"
"Desire to stand, finds courage to withstand wind, rain, rough weather”
First Place - October 2010
Members Contest - A Week to do as I please
Sponsored by - Carol Brown
When winsome women wiggle while walking,
workman will whistle wolfishly, wailing words
wrought with washroom wit. Whilst waylaid wives wince,
wizened widows wink, waving wily.
(Alliteration)
Around the corner and down the block of the last street but one
in a dusty rose chair of faded glory on the lawn of a lemon hued home
regal in red plaid pajamas sits The Countess of Norwood Court.
Surveying her subjects each morning at 9:15 on the dot
she sips on a mug of coffee while a cigarette longs to be puffed
and she waves to me and Itzy the dog as we come strolling her way.
She turns her gaze upon Itzy and speaks of a dog she once loved
LuLu the miniature schnauzer whose bark it is said shattered glass
but now she's mistress to kitties they don't need her to go for a walk.
I'm convinced she's an ex Vegas show girl her boyfriend a mafia boss
a witness protection program has moved her here to be with us
driving a Ford instead of a Rolls to protect the life she once knew.
For she can not be just an old lady with cats and COPD
I'd love to hear her adventures the stories that colored her life
but I've conjured up her life's flow and a change will not work for me.
So we'll visit the countess each AM at 9:15 on the dot
she'll happily wave and give us a smile as she sends us on our way
regal in red plaid pajamas sipping coffee having a smoke
Long live my Countess, The Countess of Norwood Court
The town : East London
The partner: Wendolene
All nite, every hour
We watched the waves
From Hotel Kennaway
She wanted to wave to the Christmas train as a test.
She dressed carefully in her Sunday best.
They won’t even see you, her mother said.
You have to stay off the tracks, or you will be dead.
She agreed to stand back and wave as it came round the bend.
The conductor and engineer was a neighbor and friend.
Old Pete blew the whistle and felt his heart hop with a leap.
That granddaughter or yours is one you surely should keep!
I
The port on the Buffalo River
Joined the Indian Ocean
In southern Or South Africa
II
My matric students in 1981 and I
Became friends- I didnt do alcohol
With teacher friends (and fun stuff)
But the waves are still calling
Me and my new friends
Matric students Shane & Jaydeep
Gave me much that year (1981)
I gave little other than my teachers job ...
Thank you Jaideep Carson, Shane Muniya
And now Wendolene ( via East London)
Iii
The waves are like us humans
They forget they appear, live ... briefly
They run ahead, faster than others
But hotel Kennaway's balcony suite
Cleared one mystery in 2022:
The wave that comes ashore
Is not the one rushing toward us!
Those die or feed yet another Wave-hero
That does make a landing, but Washback
Are beautiful, mesmerizing, ephemeral
Monday here again
A seventh of my life
To sit and sip
a third coffee
And plan the day
Lord how I'd love to get away
To Summer beach
To count the sea
To ride the seventh wave
Or sit a bareback horse and see
If I can just behave
I'm getting old
The coffee's cold
I still have time to save
timeless oceans wave
pulled by the mesmeric moon
caressing seashores
Jan.28.2019
Ocean Waves Haiku
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Placed 1'st...Thank You