No ships are mooring at this bay
No ferries dragging to and fro
The visitors that come to stay
The next day pack their bags and go
No planes are landing at this airport
The timetable display is dark
We won’t be welcomed to the board
To be ascended like that lark
The sea’s in sprawling stains of oil
A smell of burning fills the air
The birds lay dead on poisoned soil
Stay home, it’s dangerous out there
Is it the phase of evolution?
Some side effects from climate change?
Authorities have no solution
Stuck in an intermediate stage
There’s no escape, no destination
But nonetheless, I’m thinking of
A better time in reservation
When I evolve in you, my love.
In the city, theater beckons,
As museums do and parks.
There are restaurants and monuments
To set creative sparks.
There are streets that teem with tourists,
Gazing goggle-eyed around,
As they navigate by foot or bus
Or subway underground.
There are fields where sports are playing;
There are ferries on the river.
Yet if quiet’s what you’re seeking,
There are spots that can deliver.
Benches nestle hither thither,
Just awaiting their next guest,
Who might find that it’s the perfect place
To get oneself de-stressed.
Your City
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven Emerald Hills
Seven emerald hills rise steeply
From restless waters born of moving ice
Siblings of a greater peak
Lifting up their faces into rains of shrouded mists
Or bathed in welcomed sunshine
The First where stately mansion homes
Climbed to heights now holding healing hostels
Looking toward a Beacon,
Watching Rainier’s changing face,
Holding hands, across a valley cleft,
With the West where Alki shores
Welcomed the first footsteps of settlers
Looking across blue waters where ferries play at
Mistaken Magnolia blossoming with madrone
Not bowing to Queen Anne, counterbalanced,
Winking at Capitol, with shady streets
On a broad way above the lake
Looking north to find a learned Crown
Mourning Denny’s passing
Where offices now scrape the sky
Remembering a Yesler skid row, algorithms,
A pioneer square, a needle touching space
Slumbering in the shadows of a Sunset
Where seaplanes play with seagulls
In summer Seafairs and rain festivals January to December
I love a Seattle rainy night
Clouds hang low over the Puget Sound
The city glowing under streetlamp halos
From Alaskan Way to Capitol Hill
I love the way the drops start slow
Soft taps on the roof then a rolling beat
Like the sky has a rhythm
Saved for nights just like this
A spark in the sky as the storm arrives
Light flickering over Elliott Bay
Ferries float through foggy mist like ghosts
Like they are carrying secrets across the water
I love the shine after rainfall
Puddles catching neon from Pike Place signs
The skyline blurred just enough
Like a dream you can walk through
When I am out in the midnight drizzle
I feel the whole region breathing with me
Evergreens swaying and streets glistening
The Puget Sound humming an old familiar tune
I love a Seattle rainy night
It is the kind of night to settle the soul
The kind which washes the noise away
Wiping the slate clean for Seattleites
It is gone — the beast of fire
has broken its spine
on iron storms.
Some argue the date,
the precise day,
when the burning circus
finally rolled off
the pitch and patch
of bald yards.
Now, trees are painting
imaginary flames
that warm our hearts
like a candlelit sky.
This side of the river
ferries carry shadows
from morning to evening.
On far banks
there are rumors of ice birds
hunting still blazing fish,
over raw nipping waves.
Once upon a time
the old songs were new
On prairies unplanted
invaders were few
Where rivers rolled onward
no ferries or towns
All riverboat minstrels
new ages impound
The time of the season
unmeasured refrain
And cursed belladonna
tomorrow to reign
As butterfly’s wander
o’er questions unasked
A dark shrouded answer
— the future unmasks
(Dreamsleep: April, 2025)
Look at sky above you and tell me what you see
Listen to the sounds around you and carved out
The giant wave that is beating on heightened rocks
And scrolling around the sea with open guts
The clouds are getting dark and the eagle is
Having an altercation with the lark and destiny
Is crawling on its knees in the dark
Look at the shadows in front of you, the thirsty
Desert is mourning for you, the journey is long
But courage will push you along so keep pressing on
The shapeless day keep slipping away and
The morning and the evening embodied in one
And my heart is singing a courageous song
A Force is coming towards thee with magnitude
And power, to break the hearts of steel and
Push you around in the ferries wheel
Look across the sea and tell me what you see
The sparrow on the line with its bulging eyes
Has set out a pattern for you to move
Walk straight then pivot when you confront the dark
The sun has gone down and
And destiny is about to hit the ground
Strap yourself to the tree and the
Shadows will pass over thee.
I hear the honking of geese overhead:
there is a chill lingering in the air.
And I see scarlet and crimson flames spread
across canopies of green, everywhere.
Night keeps getting longer as daylight shrinks:
a warning that Autumn is on Her way.
And She's starting to spread colorful inks;
inviting the ferries to come and play.
The songbirds are beginning to migrate:
although a few are still hanging around.
And the bucks are in rut, looking to mate,
while falling leaves add a crunch to the ground.
And squirrels are stashing nuts to prepare
for Winter, when the trees will be stripped bare.
Along the South Banks,
I sat staring at the river
Shimmering in city lights,
Ferries gliding by,
Occasional airplanes in the sunset sky
With a half-baked moon,
All reflections are converging into me.
Amongst the day dreamers
And romantic humans,
I sat stuck to the wet grass,
Flattened but relaxed,
With my honeydew bubble tea,
Listening to Satur's "Yellow Leaf" and some piano tunes.
As I stared at the tiny river waves,
I searched for some peace,
And I found it everywhere,
So I write "Along the South Banks............"
K.S.Lakshmi
Dawn’s dewdrops form a breathtaking lake
for the sunrise fairy who joys in a swim.
Far from shore, where problems well,
tears rise as fog, ferries in daffodil sun.
For the sunrise fairy who joys in a swim,
spied by the charming boy-next-foxglove,
tears rise as fog, ferries in daffodil sun.
She blushes pink petals as wings draw closer.
Spied by the charming boy-next-foxglove,
showing off on the Spring’s zephyr-crest.
She blushes pink petals as wings draw closer,
flashes a timid smile, beckons come hither.
Showing off on the Spring’s zephyr-crest,
crush swimming in air, backstroking, diving.
Flashes a timid smile, beckons come hither -
she’s snared this bird of jove.
Crush swimming in air, backstroking, diving.
Sunrise has seen him before and his antics.
She’s snared this bird of jove.
He believes his dreams are coming true.
Sunrise has seen him before and his antics,
Far from shore, where problems well.
He believes his dreams are coming true.
Dawn’s dewdrops form a breathtaking lake.
After college graduation,
Oh, so many years ago,
I traveled throughout Europe,
All my youthful seeds to sow.
With my friends, I took a ferry
To a popular Greek isle
Which had very few hotels,
A hostel being more our style.
But instead, some local women
Met the ferries at the dock,
Where they beckoned so we’d follow
As they eyed us, taking stock.
We were ushered to a bedroom,
Passing family looking on,
Where we dropped our knapsacks, surely
A tradition that’s long gone.
Handing drachmas to a stranger,
Much less sleeping in her bed,
Is a far, far cry from Greece today,
From articles I’ve read.
There are hotels by the hundreds
Being built on isles in Greece
And, despite the locals’ protests,
This construction will not cease.
How much cooler to be greeted,
From a dark and choppy sea,
By a smiling native grandma
Speaking what was Greek to me!
I am lost without God's grace.
As cocaine makes drug addicts happy,
As war satisfies the appetite of an army,
As meta-sensualism quenches the burnings of a nymphomaniac,
God's grace is the codeine for my soul.
I cannot do without it.
I will seek God's grace every day until it ferries me to eternity.
Exiled from my distant homeland,
Where the days seemed bright,
Nights seemed peaceful and nice,
Where I longed for freedom and dignified life.
With dictators and militia in charge,
Where corruption and killings were at large,
Any opposition voice was crushed,
Freedom, Oh freedom, was only a dream.
With imminent arrest and execution,
Fleeing the beloved country was only option,
Somehow escaped incognito thru night wilderness,
Hitched many rides, got transported in boxes and tank containers,
Took wretched overloaded ferries, till I reached a free land.
Now I was a refugee seeking asylum,
Spent time in camps with miserable living conditions,
Finally, after three years, I was granted asylum,
I was free in an unknown world.
Still, I am actively seeking freedom for my homeland folks,
Freedom of speech, and democracy is a precious thing,
We will arouse sentiments of local folks to get their rights,
Do not cry my homeland, one day you will be free.
The air is cold, the sun is warm;
In autumn, sometimes that’s the norm.
The river’s choppy; white caps break
As speed boats trail a frothy wake.
The sky is clear, just wisps of cloud,
The promenade devoid of crowd.
A spotted lanternfly alights,
A stomp preventing future flights.
The leaves, still green, sway in the breeze,
Not ready to abandon trees,
As dogs on leashes stop and sniff
Then circle back for one more whiff.
A sunny Sunday’s what I’ve got
To rest up from my Covid shot
And as I watch the ferries glide,
I’m grateful for a seat outside.
have to prohibit
ferry on an exhibit
that reached its limit
sleeping on top bunk
on ferry would see a monk
donut he did dunk
on ferry agreed
should be place where they will feed
all of those in need
colored ferries pink
even bathroom with a sink
also missing link
would be hard to do
much attention ferry drew
painted new ones blue
trip long and not short
ferry sailed from port to port
needing an escort
smelled salt in the air
ferry was beyond compare
collectors item rare
pilot in control
would be sure to save our soul (SOS)
was their greatest goal
was there we had met
on ferry where water would set
we did get all wet
beauty all around (place always astound) (did surround)
rode ferry in Puget Sound
to home had been bound
07/28/22
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