Flotsam Poems - Poems about Flotsam

Villanelle of a flotsam state house

Let assume  the stars 
     galaxying and the sun
   is for instance 
    shine to earth 
    and stay for a while and bounce?, 
     a star for a planet
    somehow is a sun
 

Flotsam Jetsam Tides

We float amidst the flotsam and jetsam
Seemingly immune to the debris field
Moving past the invisible, the hushed,
Focused only on the we, of us

Our minds deny the truth of what we see
Refuses to face the rising of the waves
Cannot hear the crushing surfs refrain
“I’ve come again…..again…..a g a I n……”

We walk with naked feet on fresh-wet

A Strange Flotsam

A running sea
chokes the throat of a cave
then runs away
letting it breathe again.

Starfish light-up
under a luminescent
and radioactive surf,
then are pushed into sandbars
to dry-up and die.

Beach balls are swept ashore,
bleached fingerbones
lift them over the surf,
plastic bottles pile up
with ghost lips
still attached to them.

Soothsayers think we don't know
what's coming,
but we do.

Flotsam

He was a Professor of Difficult Sums,
Always kept a writing pad near,
Just in case of instant revelations,
With  pencil parked behind one ear.
He could quadrate equations
With consummate ease
And quantum mechanicals
He found just a diverting tease.

He won the Nobel Prize so often
They let him keep the cup,
And he wore designer braces
To hold designer trousers up.
A benefactor

Flotsam and Jetsam

Do you strive to be poetic,
while forgetting to be a poet

Your words when forced an epitaph
to what you never said

(Villanova Pennsylvania: August, 2020)

Flotsam of Existenz

floating aimless 
      a zig-zag in
           a time of discovery...
were these surreal 
             moments mine

lost in thought
        was life a code
poetic

Irrelevant Boyhood Arcane Flotsam and Jetsam

Irrelevant boyhood arcane flotsam and jetsam...

Impossible mission to jettison
nonetheless laughter iz best medicine
more enjoyable with vignette aye fabricate
(think swifty taylor harried style)
ah... voila - metaphorical light bulb Edison
would appreciate.

Martha Groff a classmate
the youngest of four progeny
born approximately nine months after late
February/early March nineteen fifty nine
born December third 
later same year, I speculate,
(why superfluous tidbit stuck

Flotsam and Jetsam

There is a place inside
where the crime and grime hides
All thoughts and fails lie lifeless hand in hand
In the shadow of lies told
darkness unseen
knees cradled
head bent
furtively looking up
in fear that darkness
will feed upon
this dead atom
My make shift soul
Trapped in flotsam skin and jetsam bone
Never felt the warmth
always joined never part
There is a place inside
were the

Mood Swings Flotsam Jetsam

Each dawn's debris sort
of wreckage from day before
yields jetsam just junked 
and flotsam break-up relics.
On the beach who can tell which?

Flotsam

The flotsam 
From the deep of unconscious float up pieces of memories,
like torn pictures of a past, I can’t recall. 
I see a child standing on a chair seeing his image in the window. 
A man, in the street below looks, up smiles. 
A war plane flies right through the house and disappear
 Old dreams

We Are Flotsam

(with a spark of God)

To govern a myriad selection
Of one mind and legion.
Top tier parasitic collection
From every living region.

It's not subjective good or evil,
Moral or immoral, right or wrong --
But, a wanton cellular mass primeval
Versus ego and super-ego strong.

Toxic algae over jellyfish abundant,
Floating in poisons of our making:
CO2, methane, livestock redundant.
Do Vegans dream of plant

Flotsam

Flotsam

The debris strewn along the beach
Splintered boat so much out of reach
Slewed and scattered across the sand
Blue and red wood still to hand

Imagination running wild
The wreckage of a boat defiled
Once a vibrant vessel, seaworthy
Now flotsam tossed for all to see

One wonders what had happened here
Which caused this wreck that instilled fear
Did the captain stay alive?
Did

Flotsam

Landed on the wind-swept shore
a chip---a splinter---maybe more,
small piece of wood in the surf
rubbing against the salt-sand turf.
A sliver from sunken battleship,
now an underwater sonar blip?
Cruise ship chair that came apart,
lost by a deck hand not so smart?
Splintered mast from racing yacht,
port arrival most probably naught?
She picked it up and rubbed it clean,
carried it along

Flotsam and Jetsam

The sea was calm on that fateful day
The crew keen and eager to get on their way
The cargo was loaded, all men were on board
The captain at the helm was standing tall

They raised the anchor with a mighty cry
And bade farewell with a heartfelt sigh
Leaving their loved ones with a fond embrace
Not yet knowing the

Flotsam

I saw some flotsam floating by
Or maybe it was jetsam.
Whichever one it was, I know
The river always gets some.

It’s strange that if I’d spotted it
On sidewalk, road or street,
It would have just been detritus
That I had chanced to meet.

But floating cast-offs seem to take
A step up on the scale,
For, carried by the currents,
They’re explorers setting

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