Sometimes I'm a gemstone
But I'm mostly just a pebble
I try to be a good person
But too often I'm a rebel
Sometimes I am colourful
An opal bright and shiny
Sometimes just a dull rock
From the bottom of the briney
Sometimes I am broken
And you see the diamond inside
Sometimes a fragile shell
Washed up with the tide
When the sun above is shining
On the sea, so bright and briney
And each day is a beach day
Where you’re nestled in the dunes
It’s June
When the sun above is blazing
On the beach on which you’re lazing
Seashells are all free shells
And sand dollars are doubloons
It’s June
When the sun above is gleaming
And you find yourself daydreaming
Concrete and chrome turn into seafoam
And your front lawn’s a lagoon
It’s June.
this is not the ocean
these are my tears
shed for the ghost of you
dark blue and depth
fathoms below they flow
salty grains like stars
they fill the universe
of this briney deep abyss of pain
the dark cold rain......
frostbitten heart
motionless...
torn apart....
this is not the ocean
these are my tears
shed for the ghost of you...
I'd love to build a magical kite
Then find myself a steep hill,
Strap myself in, wait for a gust,
Oh just imagine the thrill.
Off I would soar, into the blue,
To mingle high with the clouds,
Free as a bird, no worries or cares,
Away from mind numbing crowds.
I'd fly high, over the briney
And glide like a lone albatross,
I'd steer towards the horizon,
Then over the ocean I'd cross.
In joyful abandon, up there in the sky
Soaring in rapturous mood,
But that I could, just for a day,
Be lost, in such blessed solitude.
The River
The river sings its sweet lament
in ancient voice softly lowing,
vibrant melodies subtly meant
to plumb the depths of our knowing.
Around each bend it curves, flowing
onward toward its fated reunion
with unkempt sea, wild and blowing;
embracing briney communion.
Its serpentine course scars the land
in undulant brown profusion;
shimmering gold in twilight's hand,
a gift of nature's effusion.
Pregnant spring plies it, unleashing
tempest's turgid downpour to slake
the lusty spate's thirst unceasing,
leaving ravaged marl in its wake.
Torrid summer's breath chars the soil
and saps the river of its strength,
but cool and sweet, the river's toil
paints a green ribbon down its length.
Demon winter glazes the earth,
garbs the river in frigid gown,
draws a pane of ice over its girth
but fails to stay its flowing down.
Since time out of mind, the river
has carved canyons from stubborn stone
and sought naught but to deliver
its lifeblood back to heaven's home.
Wer curthing in a briney brew
All gurglin’ such a slimy stew
Did mousey chap a laddle tilt
And fill his fizzog til owt it spewt.
Poor butcherin was seen at fault
The growly hag had bowed it owt
All eyes and nerdles floated ins
With scum on tip and squirky things
Gungey green with pursed haze,
The taste of such ner amaze
Glopular grizzle and snotty lumps
A wicked stench like ‘is ol pumps
4 and 20 guest were due
At half past now or wer it 2
Seatles set, naplings laid
A feastling on which deposits paid.
A pinch of twist, a corbage stalk
Perhaps a teeny weeny grit of snork
Just slick it owt, wince a bit
En grab a tizzle, lest it slip.
The festers there, best be quick
Light the cammbly thing sticks,
En turn down the sights
We’ll curse their senses, so no frights
Let’s brow out the glooping mess
With silver service, all fancifulness.
A roaring cheer a grand success
Crown im up a MasterChef.
Sweet Confession Tide
Sweet briney trickles o’er my steps
Waves swill all sign here I have been
Draws misery below to ocean depths
Salts the wounds inflicted so obscene
Leaves my soul anew, fresh and clean.
Quintain (English)
The tumultuous sea of foam
Churned by the night winds and haunting souls
Natures gales bring forth torrential sadness
tossing boats, upon a briney sea
The trees bend slightly in the wind,
Uprooted by natures decree
Young birds quiet, held in deaths embrace
Waiting for the stillness, to chirp and sing
Begot dark thoughts leave me shine,
Allowing life to enter my soul,
Lighten my heart to accept whats mine,
My Heart once broken.
Fulfilled by a tranquility of hope and love
penned by Seren Roberts and Arthur Vaso
Currents of chaos
Battering battering my fragile ports
Steady flow of tidal constance
Fluid life and yet
I drown silently
A water sogged pillar
I steady the pier and hold true
Against the undercurrents and crashing waves
Briney depths beckon and call
Shifting drifting sandy murk
Dances at my feet
Upturned, my face to the sun
But that is not my place
Shadowy cool caressing fingers
Urge me downward
For the waves are my lullaby and
They call me home
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