from miles away
i hear your waves calling me
i can taste your kiss
From the moment i rise
i hear fresh coffee
perking in the hotel room,
with such an awakening aroma
I gaze out my window
overlooking Daytona Beach,
people have already
staked claims on the beach
with lawn chairs and
large umbrella
The healthy jog along the water
not too close to pull them into
the rolling tides
that roll gently in
leaving white foam and
souvenirs with their travels
As i walk onto the beach
I can taste the salt
rolling in from unknown lands
as it contrasts with my coffee
My bare feet sink into the wet sand
i watch tiny bubbles form
as the sand breaths beneath my weight
I stand
consumed by mornings light
becoming one with the wind
as i sway in motion
A recalibration
needed at least once a year
the beach
my sanctuary from life
two more days in Florida
then it's over
another vacation in the books
until next year
one more Daytona Beach trip
before my son leaves home
Sitting in the dark
sound of rushing waves crashing
feeling of relief
There were some poets, they lived in gnarled trees.
Creating short comments lists, rapidly as can be.
In that way, they could comment, lickety-split!
Mundane acronyms, displaying only an empty wit?
You will find these poets next to each poetic creation.
No time for sentences, as if pure damnation?
Or how about one word adjectives from first grade?
So I ceased writing and chose to sit in the shade!
I honestly felt to be as car in the Daytona 500.
Just write to win every contest under the moon.
Hoping poets at my feet, one day might swoon!
A poem is a chance, to deeply connect with another .
Artists who deeply respect the poetry in another!
3/29/2023
Plant in your heart, seeds of stars a-plenty,
Thence will come to thee,a white turtle dove.
Bringing you peace and serenity.
Stop being on the top, you are so darn boring!
Let another fellow human being share some glory.
Poetry? The Daytona Freeway, a rush to the lead.
Yes, in all due course, that “need for speed!”
And what about helping another?
Some do, with great blogs, like no other!
Contests, yes, do make them very difficult
to win.
Perhaps a roundeau, might fit in.
I feel like I am at a burger joint_))
Fast, easy poetry...what’s the point?
Who really wins, when things are easy?
Nobody…………it’s terribly, poetically, sleazy.
A trophy is no prize when we pen like sixth
Graders.
Then let’s face it, we are adults who are
literary traitors.
Try to get into a genuine publication.
Much more difficult but the wise here,
take this one on.
And unafraid to be part of a mature,
shining, true, literary nation!
Play big league here, we all have
something to learn!
Poetry is about making the ordinary,sublime.
Many here are extraodinry and make our
hearts shine………… thank you!
10/14/2021
Parallel to the sky
‘Neath the flocks
That dance by
Sprawling and crawling
My sweet lullaby
An ombré appeal
With hues, quite unreal
I own it, this moment
I feel something real
The stretch of the waves
Seems to go on for days
So much beach, within reach
Lightly kissed by the rays
Sand ripples and swirls
Once again, a young girl
Inspired, not tired
What a magical world
Hold back, say one word in a comment?
Be impersonal.
Go as fast as you can?
Don't others count before you or me,
trying to be one of the top five?
What does "nice"mean as a comment?
How about "good one??
How about "cute?"
I can tell when comments are
sincere or when I am being used.
Does it kill you to sign your name?
How about signing just "lame"))
At least we all know this is the
Daytona 500 of Comments.
I really appreciate true comments.
The phony ones...no.
Tomorrow will return to commenting......
was writing to reach a goal.
Now done in. Wow ~~~
I can enjoy you all....till tomorrow,
11-24-2020
4:30pm
Seeking out the sanctuaries
till jaggedness wears; blunt
only tumbles harder, to boo
nightmarish: it knocks keen
etching, grooves which rake…
Fleeing sleep, a roused huff
real, wheels in its silent war;
engages a caged subterfuge:
Eloquent is a pebbled stone!
(8/15/2020: Inspira: Sanctuary contest & ‘04 Eliminator 30 Daytona, Davis)
Stone Free Footnotes:
Should I heed the unconscious, or toss?
Throw it back to its recess of non-exist
Obscure it and blank out an angry emo
Not turned, the stone sinks in a cavern
Eventually it buries so deep and I, free…
Free…; till a flooding dream flashes grief
Released, it streams in polish, smoother
Eely slippery it slithers easily to the fore
Emerging, it shines in its dark: do I flee?
Nothing more that Ben and Jerry enjoy
Than Florida on Spring Break
Hanging out there at this moment
On this bright and sunny day
Swimming in the ocean
Just off the Southern shore
Waiting for a nice plump student
To dip his toes in and more
Nodding in agreement
They both would like that very much
After all what would two Great Whites
Rather crunch for lunch
Conversation rolls around to Daytona
Reminiscing of the time
Ben chowed down on four collage kids
While Jerry gorged on Nine
Yes, Spring is in the water
Where both the sharks relate
Nothing better in Florida when
You can sink your teeth into Spring Break
Irma Pulled a Fast One
By Franklin Price
9/11/2017 – 6:07AM
Irma pulled a fast one
Just before I closed my eyes
Took a right turn to the East
To sooner see the sun arise
Was supposed to go to Tampa
Get a cigar there to chew
Now she's wrecking Jacksonville
Her new direction's nothing new
Was not supposed to go there
Was to head for Alabam
Once again surprised predictors
Jacksonville now gets the slam
Passed Daytona Beach's race track
A responders' prepping pad
On the way out of the state
Had to see just what they had
Her blurry eye was very close
Winds blew and rains came down
She made their jobs more daunting
As she headed out of town
In Jacksonville a record surge.
In the Saint John's river way
Irma was not done with us
That's her record for today
Has affected all of Florida
Six million without power
Trees knocking down transmission lines
A new record every hour
She's still exceeding records
Wind speed. over time was set
It was a new world record
One of many she would get
She is still not through with us
On this day the towers fell
She, as nature's terrorist
Still makes our lives a living hell
He was standing there, like a painting by Raphael,
Above a parking garage, for show,
For all to see, behind a bay window,
A forgotten resident of our Daytona Beach Hotel.
And I stared up in awe and dismay,
Stunned, for *Ariadne, in her grand design
A spell in time had placed upon this piano divine;
And to my child I said: “Look! There’s Kay!”
Like you my old friend solitary he waits
Suspended, timeless, his noble frame
Caught behind the glass; but still a flame
His passion stoked, flooding the gates
Rusted closed. So through the corridors
In search we went, opening every door
Until his dark silent presence I glanced,
And on his battered keys a melody I chanced.
And he, rasping at first, soon his chords laid bare
And his soul released in the deepest of flair.
*Ariadne: my friend Kay associates ‘Ariane’ with a higher power or the hand of fate. (In Greek mythology, Ariadne is associated with mazes and labyrinths because she helped Theseus ‘conquer’ the labyrinth and kill the Minotaur).
Surfs Up
In distant lands
From Kuwait Bay
To Afghanistan
Arabia
To Pakistan
We all high five
As we hang ten
The ladies there
With burkas on
Will grab their boards
And surf along
The Taliban
With weapons raised
Are now into
The surfing craze
The Saudi king
Is wondering
With his wives
What they're missing
So he goes and buys
Daytona Beach
And has it shipped
To the Middle East
Where there is no more
Need to fight
As they sing Beach Boy tunes
By beach fire light
They're all hanging loose
In the Middle East
Even the Palestinians
And the Israelis
Who knew surfing would
Bring so much peace
To the troubled times
In the Middle East
I never get tired of being on fire for Christ.
Let hell turn to ice.
The second coming is close.
Your an eternity away from being toast.
The teer from your eye is a light year into life.
Just don't use a knife.
Christ payed the price.
You don't need to shed blood.
You'll hear a thud.
You mean something.
Eat a green bean.
Your life is worth it.
You'll regret it.
This world is mean but if your clean you will be in paradise.
Christ was sacrafised so we can be pure.
Its very cruel how this world works.
The American dream is God's team.
The winning team.
Angels are all around you.
You wear wranglers like Brett farve the Jet carve.
Or Dale on the rail at Daytona.
Like Jonah who got eaten by the whale he probably heard a bell.
Sins are thrown into bins to get recycled.
Everyone is entitled.
Pray for another day.
Pray for a high way.
Pray for a blue jay.
Give your life to Christ you won't be sliced.
You'll spend entirety with God and you may get a hot rod.
Angels fly.
We can see the sky.
Its very high.
We have love from heaven above.
Though Santa never responded to pleas
There was just one gift I wanted each year
A horse that could run at the speed of light
A bold little gal, I never had fear
With two high school friends, I went a ranch
To ride in 103-degree heat
Through the bramble bushes and prickly pears
Upon little “Misty” I took my seat
The Mustang Adoption Program’s success
Sparked ranchers from Tucson, Arizona
To give a home to a rust-colored mare
Many miles from my home near Daytona
Cryptic white markings graced Misty’s neck
Like words in Native American code
“She’s so small,” I whined, hoping to ride fast
But no matter, to the desert we rode
Even the roadrunners were envious
When Misty gained speed and hit her full stride
Warp speed! I clung to the saddle horn
As Misty passed larger horses with pride
My hat fell on a cactus, sweat filled my eyes
My life flashed before me, quite a surprise
It seemed like she had wings as we flew
Don’t be quick to judge a horse by its size
*For Gregory Paul's "Favorite Animal" contest
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