Asian
American
African
Middle Eastern
Pacific People
Islanders
Now, They are White
Three, four, or six
Which one will fix
And even the eastern final score
Making sure
New York will advance
In the best of seven dance
No longer the higher seed
Knicks now need
To win away
For anyone to say
Bring on the west
Who they select as the best
Spurs or Thunder
Visitors no longer wonder
Were they going to blunder
Fumble
Turn humble
Tumble
Then crumble
Instead
‘They stole a win,’ skyscraper islanders said
Message sent
Time spent
Giving the impression
A ‘how did they do that’ confession
About simple mistakes messing
Quite a lesson
Playoffs are here
And so is the post-game cheer
Get near
Toast with beer
We are almost here
Champion is going to be crowned
Creating celebration all over their NBA town
Paradise is realized in the Pacific, excitement is found in her waters,
but never forget she can muster mighty storms, along her shores
there is a ring of fire - I retell her stories to my children,
their memories are out to sea.
—by Poet
The Cliffhanger castled above the waves.
The scorch of ring of fire, the club headed due South.
In darkness, the sea was disturbed.
Would our workplace be preserved - open mouth.
Hoping the Pacific behaves.
Aloha, we’ve flown over her; here’s paradise.
Exploring the North shore is exhilarating.
Unlike coast of California,
Oahu waters surround us, enticing, nice;
vainglorious waves, pulsating.
We play for three years, with three kids,
in Pacific sands and gliding on boogie boards.
We watch islanders leaping from the cliffs.
My twenties, spent in bathing suit, with its rewards.
Opening and closing eyelids -
the makings of a poet who never forgets.
I remember the eye of Hurricane Iwa -
holding my infant son; the breeze,
then weighty winds coming from the ocean diva;
a performer with majestic outlets.
I live on an island in the Pacific region
The largest body of water is the OCEAN
Like, can we be more Pacific?
I think Christopher Columbus got lost
Because the directions were not pacific
Oh, excuse me, the Pacific Ocean
Where you will find the small islands (Micronesia)
Where you will find the black islands (Melanesia),
Where you will find the many islands (Polynesia)
Generally, the islanders are like coconuts
So hard on the outside
But succulent on the inside
Yet they always end up wanting Samoa
Get this,
An assault by an Islander
is called a Hawaiian Punch
At times, these islands need a therapist when they are in a tropical depression
Some islands have sunk
Oh no do not laugh
That is not funny atoll
Sea yourself out
Therefore, I live on an island
A small island
I am a MICRO
I mean, how can I get more pacific than that?
1946 United States authorities
chose to exercise freedom of choice
and forcibly relocated 167 Marshall islanders
King Juda he agreed as their voice
from Bikini Atoll east to Rongerik
a small island which adequate resources lacked
with the promise they would return
so much for the U.S. Right of Freedom Act
and with little regard to radiation or fallout
the beautiful coral lagoon's sad fate
was a nuclear weapon testing site
twenty-three tests in all 'til 1958
but scientists miscalculated
a dry-fuel thermonuclear bomb they blew
"Just breathe, you're having your breath taken, 'Aweigh anchors away,' the blessed follows," ... by The Poet
The unnoticeable lulls a fancy
as obscurity stares at a lost
such are promotions
of a trance
stages all ages
a momentous chance
for lifetime promise of romance
shattering glimmering
convinces glimpses
alarm bells--"Hush little baby don't--OH NO!"
"Release the Kraken ... or mices ... an ant if you have any?"
She comes, A ROWER?
It's The Specifics of the Ocean
Those islanders will come out - rigging
and surfing, Aurora, in a pipeline ... she's a dreamer ...
OH NO! WIPEout, its ecliptic ... but there at the ocean's edge
o'er the horizon, Aurora, RISE
the shacks are empty, the fields aplenty
The Drums of the Islands, Aloha Alive.
I live on an island in the Pacific region
The largest body of water is the OCEAN
Like, can we be more Pacific?
I think Christopher Columbus got lost
Because the directions were not pacific
Oh, excuse me, the Pacific Ocean
Where you will find the small islands (micronesia)
Where you will find the black islands (melanesia),
Where you will find the many islands (polynesia)
Generally, the islanders are like coconuts
So hard on the outside
But succulent on the inside
Yet they always end up wanting Samoa
Get this,
An assault by an Islander
is called a Hawaiian Punch
At times, these islands need a therapist when they are in a tropical depression
Some islands have sunk
Oh no do not laugh
That is not funny atoll
Sea yourself out
Therefore, I live on an island
A small island
I am a MICRO
I mean, how can I get more pacific than that?
Tsunami
Clinging to a tree my might is numb
Teeth chattering, soaked in seaweed I succumb
to the shores of doom, the tides violent surge
Adrift and marooned all owed to a sudden urge
After the party I woke up on a tropical island
Wild rainforest and coconut groves, tailor made in Thailand
The Turtle Island, underwaters heaven
We were seven, gone snorkeling the night before
None of which were ones who washed ashore
I heard scrambling voices from below
less those who didn’t survive the deathblow
Lungs spewing up ocean water, not the timeless turquoise,
but the stormy muddled wash, murky, writhing wildly
sirening a crushing noise
Twigs, glass, and storms debris rips through skin
Blood seeps down red rivers running thin
soaked thoroughly, bringing shivers
As tidal waves and ruthless rain cease their wells,
instinctively the islanders help each other through
the fallen landscapes
As the beached turtles struggle in their shells,
who once glided effortlessly in the sea
I know what I must do
Keep with the spirit of aloha
and stay until the sky becomes blue
Then set the turtles free
I was a good Buddhist jack tar,
Confident to sail this ocean of time alone,
All desire renounced and stowed away
Like smuggled cargo I pretend is legal trade.
I was well-practiced in the art of navigating perils,
Steering clear of revenue cutters, hostile native islanders,
And other such threatening complications.
Now has a typhoon struck that threatens contentment,
The swells have made me dizzy
And my sea legs seem uncertain
As I ride Poseidon’s roller coaster sick as a lubber,
An unlucky smuggler caught in the act
Of feeling long dormant desires stage mutiny
And relieve me of command of my senses,
Lusting after that other salty wonder.
Beneath the cobalt sky, where legends are spun,
Island life unfolds, as traced by the sun.
Amidst the palms, a verdant ballet,
A choreography of chores, in the island's sway.
Fishing boats gently bob, tales in their wake,
Nets entangled with the morning's ocean handshake.
Fishermen, weathered, their hands tell the story,
In salt-stained shirts, a testament to the island's glory.
Coconut vendors wield machetes with pride,
Husks cast away, like secrets to hide.
Sweat beads on brows under the tropical sun,
As the islanders toil, their day just begun.
Children laugh, chasing the tide's embrace,
Building dreams in the sand, a jubilant race.
Their laughter, a melody with seagull cries,
As the day unfolds 'neath endless skies.
In the market square, colors burst and bloom,
Fruits and spices scent the island's room.
Vendors banter, a lively exchange,
Commerce dancing in the island's range.
As dusk descends, shadows embrace the land,
Twilight whispers with a soft command.
Stars emerge, a cosmic display,
Over the island, where dreams hold sway.
A woodhacker rattles like wolf-jaws,
A dog's appetite has just died
There's blood in those graphite-green curtains
Duck Islanders howl of a homicide.
There's a murder of crows in The Three Trees,
Where the Sky's Ties are tethered away
The water's been kissed for the first time
And the sun's lips have no more to say.
But the Stormwood has hissed back to sleeping
Gunpowder Grove murmurs, 'match'
The Twig-Ink is scrawling black symbols
Like Maggie Pie scratched on our latch.
Grandad William keeled like a lever,
Dug his heels sprung the Wheels in Giant's Back
And the Red Cave began to make music
And the timber talked in Tumble-Down Shack.
It means that the summer is humming
Its footpeople wait on my hands
The Silkwitch is building a ladder
Rippling gold rungs through the grass.
When the light's right, like now, you can climb it
Through Horruary's cheek to the sun
Til the Fat-Ranch and chewing of winter
Are just gold stuff below
In the land of the How Far We've Come.
Alleged anthrax-laden alligator arrives in afternoon
Beyond bright baboon baby bestows brilliance
Chaste chimpanzees charge chagrined cheetahs
Doped donkeys deliberate director’s dictate
Elongated eel exasperate enormous elephants
Fruit flies flit and flutter among fruity flowers
Gravely gross gibbons gripe greedily
Hyenas and hippos are hungrily huffing
Igneous information informs iconic islanders
Jubilant jellyfish jealous juxtapositions
Kipling’ s kangaroos kill kindler’s keepsakes
Lively llamas leaping and loving
Many mammals merrily marauding
Nefarious Neverland needing new numbers
Often outsiders oversee overgrown owls
Persnickety porcupines parading in pairs
Quintessential quails quickly quell Quakers
Respite reveals rushing rip-roaring rhinos
Stolen stags slide south showing secrecy
Tiptoe through trails, tricking tigers
Understanding unicorns utilize umbrellas
Very vexing victims verify variety of vixens
Well-meaning walrus whips whippersnapper’s will
‘Xacting ‘Xrays ‘Xplore ‘Xpansive ‘Xports
Yoga yielding yaks yelp at yellow yarn
Zealous zebra zips in zingy zoo.
Both tourists and islanders shop at this store.
It sells souvenirs, cold drinks, and much more.
Find them on many streets in Honolulu.
Leave the city, and they're all over Oahu.
Explore these stores on the Big Island too.
Go to their shops on Maui and Kauai.
They even have places on Molokai.
Their selections and bargains are worth a look-see.
These Hawaiian convenience stores are called ABC.
The bride’s inflorescent bouquet, cascading —
a tropical tease of Chamorro charm
in the Marianas Islands.
A circular celebration arch
of bougainvillea and golden wedding bands,
preened and prepared, to love and cherish.
The handsome groom clasps the bride’s hand
as they step into the infinity ring.
Their breathing entwined with sunshine and seashells.
Her dark, Guamanian skin
and sleek ebony hair, surrounded by Red Hot,
California Gold and Sundown Orange blossoms.
The honeysuckle-scent of paper flowers,
intoxicating —
ruminating with romance.
The Pacific Islanders,
bare feet in tan sand,
release the coconut essence of their vows.
The grand reception at the hotel, in moonlight hours,
near the ancient wall, kissing blossoms and bracts.
4/8/2019
Bougainvillea Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
What wells up inside
Down the dark hole coins are tossed for luck
Barriers, born on fear are near at hand
Islanders surface from the past for gambling
Dice people from Taiwan markets dig deep
Mystic water lay five hundred feet below
From here that would make it closer to New York
Under pools dark path
Below, most deep and damp
Moisture lays behind well walls
There are no floors about the water barrier
So players must throw twice
No where near here or where they need to be
13 is the only number rolled 13 times
Which makes them times themselves
Solids form an interior circle of wet cement
From magic forces causing concrete blocks
Without the help of people gathering to stop
Who could stop a concrete block
To the evil power that remains in love with pain
Imposing on the child to fall down the open well
Water understands nothing, has no name, feels cold
Drinks in the love of God, remains inside the quiet
Flourishes with raw power deep in the nether world
When not being poisoned
Evil imposes on the child to draw near the shiny coin
That name is mystic water one and the same still on
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