If I’d ever see anything more poetic.
I peak here, I think to myself,
my stride hastening unconsciously
as my eyes follow the path of the page,
as if I could make out the scripture,
knowing good and well Sunday school
was the only school I wasn’t the top of my class.
I thought it followed me
all the way to the crêpe shop—
come to find out
there are more than one.
The sky rains Bible pages down on me,
no longer do I have to focus to see
John,
Matthew,
hell even Ruth’s here.
The absurdity of the situation
would make you believe I’m embellishing.
i’m not.
It’s just a sign I refuse to acknowledge
And as a poet,
I'm inclined to write.
Pleasure is not always bright—
not lambent days or roving nights.
It’s in the pause when work is accomplished,
a quiet breath, though we are famished.
Its warm tea cradled in your hands,
no need for words, no heavy mands.
A laugh that drips, a gaze that lingers,
soft moments are counted on my fingers.
It’s in being held without a zounds,
in holding things, my joy knew no bounds.
In someone knowing how you sense
before you speak—before it’s dense.
Pleasure comes, then float away,
like luminous glint at end of day.
You don’t give up —you invite it start,
a gentle visitant in the heart.
Flewn, flown, float
sit back relax
while we
watch tv
on this cruise.
On this yacht we
white ships and cruises
those boats
let the wind
lead us there.
What can we explore ?
whilst writing poems
and sing and dance
as the ship sets free.
Those thoughts flow
just like the ones
conjoined by rivers
and beaches and lakes
don't get caught by the snaked.
for about a week
I’d like to float into outer space
wearing my pink pajamas
the ones without frill or lace
I would float in my rowboat
full of root beer and Milky Way bars
enjoying the pretty cosmos
tantalizing the stars
Her float was shallow.
Her pyramid was a beautiful theme
of dreams she wished time would,
first of all,
let float.
What could she have done
with so many butterflies?
She respected her furious nature.
Her beehive held a limitless wealth,
but she never forgot
how it was almost empty.
“Allow nature to emerge in your belly and drink.
Beautiful rain can fall on stones
and still make voices that represent God too.
Allow the honey to heal you,
and dance with its sage.
Let lavender flowers bloom on your forehead.
Pursue the romantic desires of motion,
and just let things float."
Bernice Zoleka Mannie
LYAIOZ MANNIE
I wish that I could relive the wonder of
making a slight run, then lifting into air.
This floating-up sensation is one I love
though it happened only in dreams and was rare.
Now when I sleep, vanished are my flying dreams.
But like a leaf, I might glide with gentle streams
or ride the sky in a big hot-air balloon.
Oh, to float, weightless, among the stars and moon!
A few times in my life, I have chanced to sink
in waters of a river or of a lake,
tangled in ski ropes and feeling on the brink
of being held down as if by a large snake -
death’s suffocating serpent! Oh, how I hate
that feeling. I hope it never is my fate
to plunge into despair; how I'd dread as well
sinking into the bottomless pit of hell.
You may not believe it, but some float through life like a dream,
Dressed in fine fabrics, like stars in the silver sky.
They taste the fruit of life, without thirst, without hunger,
Sleeping under wings of tranquility, in the palace of serene night.
Around them, time weaves like a tapestry of peace,
Family shelters them like a tree under which flowers grow.
They too have shadows of sadness, but they are fleeting,
And when they depart, it's like a feather falling in its gentle flight.
You may not believe it, but such souls exist,
I am not one of them, no, not even close.
They are there, floating in their gentle light,
I am here, on a path lost to smoke and wind.
In their world, stars whisper stories without end,
In mine, the echo of silence rings like an old bell.
They are where rivers flow without losing their call,
I am where water gathers in tears of longing.
But perhaps in this cosmic, hidden and profound dream,
Between two breaths, we will meet, shadows and light.
Maybe in this dance of destiny, we will find each other,
Like two constellations shining in the eternal sky.
Here rest my oars.
A killick thrown to the school of fishes,
To still my boat from the peering waves.
Fishy-wishy scatter as water splatters,
Like wood chips flying when the pickaxe strikes.
A ship draws near, but my killick blocks its kiss—
Its stale mouth might stagger my rest,
And send my gathered fish fleeing the net.
Much of the mud my killick swallows,
So the wave won’t tug the boat an inch.
More students from the school must reach my net.
A long wait beneath the twilight-dimming sky.
Yet the fish market waits for a refill.
The cool breeze begs my eyes to close,
But hunger bites hard with its mocking teeth—
My killick just has to steady the float.
Minor signs of anxiety
Sunk in the glass of lemon water
In the panic of the present time
Life flows in a calm stream
Along the damp walls of low storey buildings
My boat floats to nowhere
Under the arches of old bridges
Voices distorted by echoes ring out
What they say, what they are silent about
Is unimportant for I can't hear
I float along the quiet current
Through the cloudy waters.
you W
A
R
M my b~e~d
with p+a+s+s+i+o+n and with l*o*v*e ~
t
r
u
e
l*o*v*e lives h-e-r-e
your thoughts f~~l~~o~~a~~t ~
in my w~a~t~e~r of B
A
T
H
t
r
u
e
l*o*v*e s~a~i~l~s on
In the flow of time where memories float like leaves over the silent river,
I will keep in my soul our kisses, lips burned by the fire of love,
And how you gave me everything you had, every corner of your soul and every dream,
And I offered you what was left of me, pieces of sky and shadows of longing.
I will keep in mind your small room, a sanctuary of our unwritten stories,
Your touch like a caress of light, windows open towards infinity,
The records that played old stories, the books that whispered ancient secrets,
The coffee of our mornings, the ritual of silence in the embracing dawn,
The noons and nights, our bodies entwined in eternal sleep,
The small currents that flowed between us, instantaneous and forever,
Your foot next to mine, your arm like a promise of warmth,
Your smile, the light of the soul that made me laugh again.
And thus, in the silence that surrounds us, we keep the echo of every moment,
For in this silent symphony of memories, we find an eternity,
A dance of hearts that always find their way back to each other.
My drinks enticing and sweet
On a chair in the middle of the street
My little floaters been dinged
Toiling waves the edges singed
The wood alive with roaring flame
Waters pulsing like a broiling brain
The cars flow downriver like syrup
I float on my raft with an empty cup
My chair can't sink among the heat
Since it's not the damn drivers seat
So I travel the world and surf
My cup will never touch any turf
Arms reach out from the ocean waves
They hold tight, the current fails
They want saltless delight im sure
I lift the parasol, sugar is the cure
I reach down and share the fluid
The current takes it, people included
It's no matter, I can surf without it
So I crouch on the boards and sit
Then lie and bask in the sun
And even the hands cant ruin the fun
They still reach and pin me
From below the board they see
Grab my cup and take it
I laugh and spit
I let them take it where it belongs
Bubbling under the wooden walls
And I still have the suns fire
It extinguishes the waters pyre
The lapping waves cant burn
My raft of wood will never turn
Everything is so warm and free
As long as my drink is lifting me
Float in the body sack,
the cops are not going to think
you were murdered,
they will still bid you a 'good morning'
if it is morning,
or eye you
with a deep professional suspicion.
Keep floating.
If a part of you
slips out of the body sack
nudge it gently back.
You're a sailor,
you have shipped a lot of water,
but unless your green
has forgotten how to wave
you will always be buoyant -
mostly.
You know you're in a sack, right?
Float inside it anyway,
and along the way,
pause the glide
to break a few eggshells.
You know you're in an eggshell, right?
Scissors
Cut cords in half,
Tethers binding gone, poof…
I do float through life reaching out
As new.
Suspended volumes
sitting on an unseen shelf
seem too big to float
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