When she believes I've done wrong
it's the same old dance and song
no words are sung or said
then she simply sulks instead
so once again it looks as tho'
I'm in her bad books and graces
yet without all her chattering
with neither reason nor rhyme
the silence is disquietingly shattering
and can last for quite some time
but to show me where my place is
it's not long before she puts on
one of her Easter Island statue faces
hot dry white sand
sticks to wet bare feet
looking for relief
colossal statues were three thousand years old
found in Sardinia in 1974
carved by the Nuragic civilization
depicting warriors on Easter Island
We thought they were only heads
Until someone decided to dig down
They are full-bodied
Buried up to their necks
How did they carve stone back in the day?
Is it odd kings were not represented?
Only archers, boxers and warriors
Many theories are bantered about
Easter island holds on to her mysteries
Intriguing and enticing archeologists
Keeping the Nuragic civilization alive
Three thousand years later
Perhaps that was the purpose?
We met in the Philippine’s tropical glow
Those days feeling like dreams drifting soft and free
Your laughter in the air made the whole world slow
The time shaping a path meant for you and me
You crossed to the states with a hope we could grow
A beautiful life built by distant decree
Fifteen years have shown love will never depart
Beautiful island girl is home for my heart
In the pretty pink sand I sit,
on a tropical island that is sunlit.
The blue water is very calm,
in the distance with a huge black palm.
The clouds are taking a break,
no rain for the weather's sake.
I love there is no time here,
my alarm clock can bring me no fear.
Dreams are taking me far away,
I want to stay for another day.
Poetry Wheel Says......
Theme: Dreams
Emotion: Calm
Color: Black
Season: Tropical
Form: Couplet
Object: Clock
Verb: Break
Ocean's
tiny island
spring nest twigs gathered by
indigo bird with crown of white
ready
moonlight
cascades
over the falls
landing on the boat
covered, floating
in the ebonic sea breeze
I am in there
so are you
if you so choose
both sleeping
something about
Hawaii
unhurries the heart
waits for
floating leis
lazily drifting
in the ebb and flow
of forever after
tourist welcome
island is a paradise
hidden gems galore
The school bus crawled into the village
just as the sun slipped beyond the horizon.
Villagers emerged with machetes in hand,
clearing the road for their visitors—
men and women united by a mission
to protect and preserve marine life.
Joy filled the island.
Laughter echoed from every corner.
The local captain, Pastor Kagoto,
could not stop reciting his poems,
while songs drifted through the evening air.
Village girls came out singing,
their voices carrying across the shore
as they welcomed the newcomers.
Later that night,
the visitors pitched their camp on the island.
The women retired to their tents,
while the men gathered around a crackling fire.
The waves whispered against the beach,
their rhythm clear in the stillness of the night.
Above, the sky blazed with countless stars,
as if the heavens themselves had joined the villagers
in welcoming the guests.
As darkness settled over the island,
hearts were filled with anticipation,
and every soul carried great expectations
for the days that lay ahead.
Boreas, the North Wind
I am in Iceland, 90 miles from the Arctic Circle,
walking through a gorge in a valley between
European and North American plates. Fierce
Boreas funnels its headstrong wind right at me
tears my knit hat off my head, rakes my hair.
I’m in Rekjavik, at the city’s highest point
walking half-way between Hallgrimskirja Church
and Leif Eriksons’ statue when Boreas sends a gust
ripping glasses from my face. I chase them across
the square, miraculously retrieve them intact.
The is a land of extremes, powerful geysers,
roiling rivers, cascading waterfalls, high mountains,
floating icebergs, volcanoes, poised to erupt, lava
flows, one thermal Blue Lagoon, acres in size
defies frigid air, soothes sore muscles.
This is a land ruled by the North Wind Boreas, erratic,
hungry, sleeping rarely, it is terrifying, exhilarating,
raw as life itself.
Spacious and white
a kaleidoscope of beauty
this spot to me is just right
with exotic drinks that taste so fruity
Ireland; coast and bits which aren’t
the Irish; ephemeral stuff of books
words to-ing and fro-ing
chieftains, crooks, priests, poets, playwrights
and ejitts
no more reigning, pontificating
breaking rules or playing the fool
but dark drink somehow surviving
somewhere in special, nurtured nooks
stained by the land
phrases blown and scattered in the wind
remnants here and there
or else off-planet
the island of collisions is heading
for the Arctic when the west will face north
troubles lie behind and beyond the headland
icebergs may congregate along the shore
oscillating to the warming, cooling dance
stump of mountain still surrounding
depleted bog and the sinking flora floor
still hiding lump of ancient wood and men
land bridges may reform
snakes may return
wee shamrocks still appearing
between the craic remembering
Haiku poems yield
Untapped marketing tie-in;
Boost this Maui town.
I see myself far out of reach
on a south seas tropical island beach
piña colada close at hand
playing drums in Bright Eye Band
who knows where the cash all falls
with bills and rent the money's spent
who knows 'xactly where it went
and I picture me behind the wheel
of a sharp new shiny automobile
radio blasting the top is down
cruising to the hot spots all over town
who knows where the funds all go
it don't take long the money's done
who knows where it's gone
who knows where the money goes
it slips through my fingers away it rolls
there's never enough and my pockets have holes
Quest for My Beloved
Caught inside the silence
Silence creates in me a deep need to know more
Wisdom met me in my dreams
She spoke of life it seems
Wailing toward the doom invaded skies we sought the people who seek Love
Oceans of screaming noise
chatters who do not speak
Lurkers who silently weep
Kings and Queens who do not dance or know they need to advance
Under bridges under cars
Under the ground we saw the clouds
Mountains of shallow ground they seek a bard and found a crown
Taverns or courts we hold in trust
Flowers or knights we must enter the circus
crown the clowns in their wilderness
roads toward cities or states of roses escaped
our freedom is such a peaceful vengeance
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