Curving Poems

Welcome To The Serenity Sail

Outside in the barn one late summer eve  
a seaman toiled until wee hours of night 
Solid rock surrounded by wood and nail 
just the right size for "The Serenity Sail" 
She lit an old candle by the window, 
recalling sweetly their brave adventures   
Back in the days when they were young 
water was life and love was pure gold; 

Over by the lawn an old weathered sailboat 
sat waiting, for one more vigorous glide   
"Lets take her out " he said as he toiled,       
curving the wood and tapering to a point. 
That night they slept in the boat like kids,     
huddled under a blanket stitched with stars.  
Tasting the ocean on her lips he sighed,  
"Join me !" he said as she giggled, awhile.

Longing Faiths

Let our clear eyes gaze
at the rising moon on the
shores of the Sahara, let
the evening stars shine,
holding the skies in their
         cosmic magnet, let the
tides cease their aggression
within the ocean, like the
brutish pain we feel as
we welcome and embrace
the oases of our longing
         faiths, our kisses
flirting on the shores
of the ocean’s lips,
resolute in our struggle.
We are sandwiched between
the blades and mortars of
these plains, bludgeoned on
the banks and rivers of
these burning forests,
our peace stolen by
hate, so we spend
      these silver years in
agony, asking the same
questions our ancestors
asked: shall our hopes be
burnished and taken away on
the lost bays of these curving
currents determined to throw
us into the pits of the boiling
gutters, or shall our longing
        faiths, like stones, outlast
the flames of the forest fires?

Waves

                                                     WAVES
                                                      ripples
                                                curving shapes

                                              sweet recollections
                                        of cuddling sands on beach
                                       during dreamy days of youth

                                    "footprints on shore fade in a while."

Ala-Ka-Zammm

Ala-Ka-Zammm

There Once Was A
Palm Reader Who
Took Her Hands To
The Mooon!

Per-lang-guh-lang
Dang-ding Digie-Dong
A-Dang-Doong.

One Light Side
One Dark Side
Now Both Palms
At Once, In Her
Divine Magic Hands!

She Held Chance
Made It Dance!

To Whatever
Weeping Willow
Wanton Whispering
Whip-poor-whill's…
Wood Will.

Solid Will.


But Here, Oh Earthly
Mutters…
Curving Palms…
Carving Whims… 

With
Her 
Whimsy 
Well
Distracted…

With-In A Luna Kalla-Ka-Zooom!

-Gray Squirrel

08-17-2025

It Lifts, Defies Gravity

It Lifts, Defies Gravity 

That great curving line
made of countless droplets
in shades of aquamarine
to showers of foaming white

it creates an opening
a cave where light can spin
then plummets down again
its passion has been spent

rolling gently to the shore
tumbling sand and shells
small remnant lives
then going back for more.

pliable willow

willows gnarled limbs
curving in out and above
furniture ready

Clinging To My Brow

Veiled by clever branches, limbs
silken strands, protecting me
from the eyes who’re like pseudonyms
beckoning with iris’ clever and wild

secreted beneath gossamers, flowing
in whispers of hope for the morn
risking each breathless moment, unknowing
what to expect with the journey’s quest

shrouded by the strands, elusive
like the moment when I knew true pain
beyond the shadows, so abusive
feeling the fears who reach my soul

concealed from a world who hurries
never allowing my heart to heal
these wisps of melancholic flurries
remember locks who write the songs

unseen by those who might discourage me
each curl, each tress, each quiet tuft
silences the fears who seem to guarantee
expressing myself means letting go 

hidden by the mane who drifts, curving
sinuous and graceful, a layer of shelter
always protecting and preserving
so I have refuge, a haven, a secure home

unseen, my eyes hide beneath the maze
a mane of defense, shielding me from foes
those who might not understand my gaze
only see the pain and never what I gain

Queencliff

2025.5.5

It was the 5th day of winter.
Somehow the weather was still warm,
It tickled my travel's bones.
Yes, I went all the way to Queenscliff Geelong.
I came here several times in the past,
But missed climbing up the tower part.
With it magnificent 360° clear view,
I circulated the platform along the glass windows.
My time of arrival was coincide with
The departure of the ferry Sorrento - Queenscliff.
I casted my eyes to the north-west,
There were three Islands Swan, Mangrove and Rabbit.
The Point Nepean on the far east across the sea.
On the east side of Queenscliff 
There was a stretch of sand beach,
Curving it all the way to Point Lonsdale.
In one hour time, I could enjoy the sun set,
Beyond the horizon of the marina bay.
It would be lovely if I could stay.
But I had to give all that a miss,
Head back to Geelong and then home.
There will be another warm day in winter,
Before the weather drops to low temperature.
I just have to make the trip again
With or without friend in the future.
Where there is will there is way.

Surfaces

Ships sail on the surface between sky and ocean,
water and air.
People toil and play, 
live and die
on the surface between sky and globe,
air and earth.
These two surfaces meet in a curving line
under the sun,
and when the world turns over,
under the moon. 

At points along this line, 
across the dimension of time,
pairs of eyes
employ binocular vision
to gauge distance.
Eyes on the shore
see a ships departing,
getting smaller,
and disappearing under the earth's curvature,
and then,
empty sea.

Two eyes on the ship
see two eyes looking back,
and the wave of a handkerchief,
then, a dot, 
as people turn to ants
under the sun and moon
toiling, playing, and
sometimes 
waiting.

Beloved

In the midst of striving with fate,
Searching for dreams that debate,
Here’s the reason not to be afraid,
To try harder and not hesitate.

They’re celebrating milestones in life,
The smile on their face shines, like winning in light.
With glittering eyes and curving lips so positive,
The dreams they’ve drawn are now real, fulfilled.

Crying isn’t always gloomy,
It means another life that shines brightly.
Thinking of a reason to live life to the fullest,
Genuine love as the light that brightest.

The laughter that brings others happiness,
The embrace that gives the feeling warmest,
A hug that touches the heart with faithfulness,
Eye to eye, sharing a love so pureness.

Every love in their flickering eyes,
Struggling sometimes, yet it’s the prize.
The mouth that opens unpredictably,
A heart that beats with excitement and warmly.

Realizing something—the want, not the need,
The so-called freedom offers another lead.
It’s about commitment, it’s about decision,
It’s about something in everything, bringing the conclusion.

Innocent Body Look

A beautiful look of life
Not seen smile on the face
But sunshine in the heart
A scenery in the eyes
A point of a long look
Blown by gush of gentle breeze
That sways the shiny hair
Curving body shows of help
That live your favorite hook
Proving your innocent look.

The Golden Oriole Found - A Fantasy Story

Martin came to a cleft in the rocks
The oriole must have gone this way
It was narrow and curving
A sudden turn, and everything seemed to change.
Shrill, reedy music of pipes filled the heavy air,
A smell of musk of goats and their dung. 
Invisible cicadas sustained the piper's lament.

Suddenly, he found himself in front of a small but deep lake.
Weeping willows, large copper-coloured beeches 
Surrounded by a large pool of azure water. 
There was a calm tranquillity about the place 
Whilst the air was saturated with a fragrance 
Of exotic flowering lavender-like trees.

He heard a splash, and out stepped a young woman. 
Her canary yellow elegant swimsuit
Clung wetly to her honey-coloured body. 
Damp citrine hair formed a frame around an oval face
That was highlighted by an upturned, pointed nose. 
He did not move but stood mesmerized, 
Looking into her blue, limpid eyes.
A sweet smile shimmered on her lips.
"Hello," she said in a mellifluous voice. 
Her smile was inviting. "My name is Goldie Oriole. 
Come, sit near me 
And tell me how you found this place."


To be concluded in Part 3

Look again

Look at those glimmering orbs, 
glazed like galaxies in an unending space.
Look at those glittering lips,
curving up like a cresent moon on face.
Look at those blushed apples,
like those of babies adored in embrace.
Look at those clouds tied with violet ribbons,
dancing away in grace.
Oh! the mellifluous melody it seems,
don't you want to just join in? 
Now look again,
look at those glimmering orbs, 
glistened with tears, mind in daze.
Look at those glittered lips,
eclipsing the waning heart in case.
Look at those blushed apples,
flustered by desperation to win in race.
Look at those clouds tied in violet ribbons,  shackled in lace to flail in place.
Ah! the malicious malady it seems,
do you still want to join in?

Falling Leaves

A trellis of leaves flutters so naturally, 
reams hanging free… timeless in a swirl
on the curving breasts of night. And they dance,
prance without restraint
onto altitudes of orbital light,
glistening through their
 russet-gold flesh…

Somehow, these leaflets enter into my 
dazzled world as if to murmur:
“We are here, but not for a long, my dear
so you must learn our celestial song ,
unfurl your wings across melodious rivers--
come dance with us ,your beauty fills…”

And my hips jut out like a riot
of dragonflies, butterflies, fireflies
towards the same aurora, draped
 in a voile-skirt's embrace; my
arms and limbs circling in shapes unknown...mysterious
as autumn's moonlit croon,

while leaves flicker into a hushed 
tempo of nightfall's revelry,
deliriously untame..

The Moon and the River

*Line one is from a poem by Sara Teasdale

*The moon is a curving flower of gold.
Blue silk is the river below
which gathers sweet Luna’s petal-face glow
and mirrors it in a soft fold.
Delight is the night as we - passion-souled -
sail forth on the ribbon’s smooth flow!

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