The vast ocean would entwine with the sky
and thus consumed with this burning yearning,
gathering strength, its mission, do or die,
waves around lava rocks begin churning.
Kiama is where ocean’s heart and soul
demonstrate that heavens are within grasp,
with waves swirling skyward at this blowhole,
as emotions peak, heart lets out a gasp.
The chamber from which the ocean does rise,
we equate in us as cave of our heart,
where God’s magnetism delights to surprise
our soul, on feeling bliss ignition start.
Beholding in wonder, sea waves thunder,
we feel rapture rise from deep down under.
...with apologies to Ogden Nash
You think you may have missed the astounding
part of you.
The high tide.
Thoughts and things you had missed,
because of you, little gifts not written down.
Lazy, never-to-be-spoken poetry.
Perhaps an intra-personal disagree
caused an absolute apogee.
And so high the low whale,wary of the deep,
but also, the shore,
will speak forevermore.
A whale of an idea for those
terrestrial walkers of beaches,
and for those who walk inshore.
I offer something more…
If you find nothing you can hold in your hand,
then think again.
And pray that the last gasp from
the blowhole of a whale
will bring you back to high tide,
and pull you back in.
Orca breaches amid
rolling pellucid waves;
pod accompaniment
as arching bodies play.
blowhole sprays celebrate
in random ecstasy;
ocean’s performance art.
it started twenty-six years ago
in a twisted, cramped recast
bathroom
the sun's rays would perforate
from the right hand side
window
at first there were no
implements, neither a
zither
it was just shake a leg
shimmering by the bed
stuff
and not knowing if it
would be punctuated by
taxpayers
things began to change
minacious, more from the
heart
a clamorous insistence
discovered an obligatory
blowhole
and playing air guitar
in my room with an air mic
floating
pretending to be someone else
Clink-clink
Black panther eyes peering
thru the concrete canopy
What do they see in the blood-smoke midnight air ...
safari sound waves shocking,
moving the ghetto leaves
What do the tree leopard tar-pitch, onyx ears hear ...
a white rhino with a little horn tooting
Bars and Stripes liberty hypocrisy
Star Spangled dirge played off-key at the trade fair
Clink-clink
Sea Leviathan white whale with the little blowhole,
sending suffocating sounds
leading down to the burning belly of hell
Muzzled lions and lionesses in the dark cargo hold,
chained to the smell drowns
of fear excrement waist-high in a caged cell
400-year journey on a piss-poor promise of equality —
build the racial Wall higher:
says the Tower barker, spitting in the tiny trumpet
Clink-clink
Gold-plated iron ankle bracelets ... slavery jewelry,
place a bid to the auction buyer
Give the seller a pound of the flesh, free-labor sweat
Clink-clink
Don’t think ... run when you hear this
coming calamity chain-pain sound
Head skin deeper into the safe urban jungle,
until the little horn fades
into muted white noise background
Whale watching! Come on, let's go
There's no time to be a landlubber
Grab your oars and get ready to row
We're not after one for its blubber
Stay away from that blowhole bully
who likes to scream and preach
There she is now, a big fat tubber
She's blowing off, out of control
Yelling at another one on the beach
My goodness, she likes to scold!
War with nature's a losing one,
it's just like spitting at the sun
No matter what, nature has won.
It is not fun. It is not fun.
Mankind can rape the forests broad,
with axe and chainsaw, trees are sawed,
but they grow back and we are awed.
Deserves a laud. Deserves a laud.
A species has become extinct,
but will arise, one more distinct;
to the old one it will be linked
That is succinct. That is succinct.
The sludge and runoff smother streams,
because of mankind's greedy schemes
and total lack of worthy dreams,
or so it seems, or so it seems.
The latest campaign is fracking,
sets the earth's mantle to cracking;
astute forethought sadly lacking.
I'm not backing! I'm not backing!
Into the oceans, sewers flow,
suffocate the whales' blowhole,
causes massive red tides to grow.
A tale of woe! A tale of woe!
Urban dictionary says "narwhal; an amazing, magical combination of a unicorn and whale"- oh ok,
I'm sure one can find beautiful things about a narwhal. The same way we find beautiful things in raindrops and matching sock. And like all beautiful things we write about there are always things that threaten the inhabitants of those thoughts implanted in our subconscious. There is something so personal about comparing ourselves to beautiful things and then pinning terrible things to the people that make us unbeautiful.
Like... I am a narwhal. And how I swim through my sea of thoughts, filled with colorful imagination. And how the only thing that makes me thankful for the Horn on my existence is you. Sleeping soundly in the oil spills that linger in my blowhole- despite the fact that the word "blowhole" is super unpoetic! Even more than the word super.
But that's how you make my little metaphorical narwhal heart feel! You're the one with the harpoon words and gallons upon gallons of wasteful, wishful thinking that you're better than me. GOD DIDNT GIVE A UNICORN HORN! HUH?! No that was ME!
Where the sea meets the sky,
Blue on blue.
White sails, slowly sliding by,
Azure hue.
Warm sands, intense, bright sun,
Calming you.
Beautiful island girl, scantily clad,
No taboo.
House made of grass and leaves,
And bamboo.
Waves of heat blurring the beach,
Outrigger canoe.
Shiny, silver grey dolphin rises,
Blowhole spew.
Hammock swaying in the balmy breeze,
Troubles few.
To the urban squalor and urban filth,
You bid adieu.
Tropical paradise and tropical peace,
Who needs a shoe?
(20 lines)
© Copyright 2012 J.A. Stevens
Preparing his conference speech
Old man ended up on nude beach
By virtue or vise
He stuck his device
In each blowhole he could reach
Questions
I’ve got some questions; the truth if you please
I’d like to know – does a penguin have knees
Can a rhinoceros – if he has a twitch
Raise his back leg to get at his itch
If water gets in a bull elephant’s ear
Can he hop on one leg until it is clear
A better one yet – can he smother a sneeze
By holding his trunk between his front knees
Is a zebra a white horse with black stripes on the side
Or a black horse with white stripes – how can we decide
Can a wolf really blow or is that just a tale
Can a golf ball plug up the blowhole of a whale
Why does a road runner run – can’t he fly
Why does Wylie Coyote continuously try
What made the very first hyena laugh
It must have been one big hilarious gaffe
How does a rooster know just when to crow
How does a homing pigeon know where to go
How does a opossum think he will survive
By making us all think that he’s not alive
How can a male mantis get into the act
Knowing when finished he will be attacked
Why does a poet write things down their way
Why did you come out to hear us today
These are the questions – please give them some thought
I’d hate to believe they were all asked for naught