Long Abalone Poems
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The channel islands off the coast
of California were my home
on weekends sailing with my dad
on glassy seas, on froth and foam.
On Fridays after work he’d head
to Catalina on the wind.
Sometimes, the trips were fast and rough;
sometimes, you thought they’d never end.
I’d go below when it got dark;
he’d often sail late in the night,
drop anchor in a quiet cove,
and hear the gulls at dawn’s first light.
My father would go snorkeling
and abalone were the game:
delectable when cooked just right,
breaded, sauted on a flame.
The prize, not easy, on the rocks
some twenty feet below or more.
A suit and weights to take him down
to pry them off the ocean floor.
I stayed up top and manned the oars
and kept the dinghy close at hand,
collect the catch and be right there
when things did not go quite as planned.
Though this was fifty years ago,
I picture it as clear as day.
My father found a hunting spot.
The waters, calm; the skies were gray.
He’d found an abalone bed
with numbers plenty to be found,
and so he’d bring them to the boat,
inhale, and take the next trip down.
But then, he came up rather quick
and backed up slowly with his fins.
His snorkel made the strangest moans,
and then he dived back down again.
Again, he came up fast and tossed
the catch into the boat and said
a large black manta ray down there
was quite protective of the beds.
’Twas near ten feet across in size,
and though they shouldn’t cause one harm,
when they are coming after you,
it sets off all the fire alarms.
On one last trip, he headed down,
and next I know, he’s like an otter.
The ray had come straight up at him;
he might as well have walked on water!
He managed to get in the boat
in one smooth motion, in a blink.
Normally, it was a struggle,
requiring help and lots of strength.
He laughed and said we’re done today;
whatever’s here, we’ll call it good.
No arguments from me, for sure;
I’d never been, and never would!
Sunlight rains upon my face
Cascading memories cloaked in mystery
Kissing my eyelids
Ancient teardrops glide down my cheeks
Warmth illuminating my hungry soul
A sense of calm
A pulsating ellipse emerges before me
I dive into the magenta abyss
Releasing my wounded heart from its cage
Fear resides
Primal vibrations guide me
Becoming one with galaxies and starlight
My limbs relax
I flow ~ I undulate
I swim in the warmth of the universe
Time and space have become me and I them
Perched on a massive salt-stained boulder
Gazing towards the briny distance
Shades of White
A passionate brushstroke across the horizon
Sky and sea in a lover’s embrace
Caw .... caw ..... caw....
I feel you beckon me
Swallowing the sweet pit of truth
Nudged by a warm gust
I look down seeing the bundle
cradled in my arms
Your endless gaze speaks lifetimes of wisdom
Birth, struggle, bliss, challenge, and death
I watch you intently readying yourself
to pounce upon your unsuspecting prey
Riding this timeline of life
Together as one
Tick tock
Forward backward
Inward to the beating center of creation
Young one I see your sage reflection
In my gilded hand mirror
Me here and you there
Your smiling eyes
Tearing at my core
Come float with me
In sheer turquoise splendor
Adorned with seaweed crowns and abalone jewels
Rays of light penetrate the watery depths
Colonies of majestic stingrays hover nearby
Welcoming us to join their scared dance forevermore
Donor Cozeners
by Odin Roark
Seduction eased into town long ago,
Thought to be natural.
It was
Praised as stability,
It was
Embraced as destiny,
It was…
Procreation ruled the nights,
Delivery rooms the days,
Time passed and like flies to a sugar fix,
Victory swarmed
Bank tellers on payday,
Local bars on Friday night,
Churches on Sunday.
Workweek habits continued,
Sexual harassment ‘round the water cooler,
Ass kissing ‘round the bosses,
Entitlement ‘round the calling-in-sick phone.
Then something happened.
Times got rough,
Unemployment rose,
Businesses shut down,
Preachers sought donations elsewhere,
Enticement stumbled out of town.
Darkness lured memories of enticements,
Cob webs hung furtively,
Tying unlit lamp post to shattered neon signs,
Side streets to alleyways,
Locked doors to broken windows.
Summer storms passed over,
Leaving muddy puddles,
Their rippled reflections
But gurgling echoes to the moon.
Goodbye waves of regret.
Today…
Not far down the road,
A new infestation of passionless hunters
Perfect their duplicitous smiles,
Awaiting yet another bounty of ignorance
For buying into the inducement
Of both flight
And fright,
Believing this,
Believing that,
Unaware that allurement
Is barbed with many disguises.
Hopefully…
Conscience will remain conscious
Never forgetting that on a clear night,
Or a dew covered sunrise,
Deception’s abalone color
Will flicker from the incandescence of
Beguilement’s lure,
Turning tomorrow’s entrapment of dreams,
Like the broken wings of flies,
Fractured rainbows are sucked
Into the black hole of deceit.
As a ...
child I was carefree
played in the mud
football my hero
goals from the foot
teenager I had worries
imagined and real
twisted illusions
hands on the trigger
young man I searched
for a pearl in the shell
submerged in an oyster
cracked abalone dreams
midlife contender I built castles
fortresses and embrasures
aimed for dubious targets
carried quivers and arrows
midlife defender I proceeded
octopus in smudged mind
jellyfish in a broken soul
starfish bereft of shine
comet in waiting I flickered
pondered the milky way
approached reflections
condensed my approach
fading asteroid I wandered
questions unanswered
responses transcended
beginnings of ends
The path took me ...
to a compass with no needle
the chart lost on the way
with a pocketful of marbles
and a hole in my trousers
away into an underworld
a cess pool of promises
an anchor rising above
shredded sails on the mast
to a point of surrender
white flag crusted in salt
the earth as a rainbow
horizon in waves
a tool kit of memories
scraped knees once again
scabby wounds healing
shedding my score sheet
The aging child ...
needs no referee
no penalty zone
no final whistle
no chalk in the dirt
thrives in the mud
balls up or not
shelters a mussel
opens the drawbridge
back to the square root
equating adventures
the circle half finished
I pump up the ball
I moved a few goal posts
changed my position of play
removed strings from my boots
walk the pitch back to the roots
Childish or a bit wiser but carefree at last ...
16th May 2020
Emerging from the shadows of the mission’s broken wall,
The moon falls on her shoulders like a ghostly silken shawl.
She wears a chain of silver and abalone shells.
Her eyes as bright as emeralds, her voice, like Spanish bells.
She wanders past the courtyard, the potter’s earthen jars,
The lights of the cantina, the lullaby guitars,
To step beyond the threshold of conservative affairs,
And let her dark desires be the focus of her prayers.
She conjures desperados burning ranchos built of straw.
Her reckless indiscretions led to brushes with the law.
She’s broken her piñata and found herself beguiled.
Her heart was always restless, but now she’s running wild.
She glides among the canyons like a ghostly vagabond,
Her freedom the expression of the innocence she’s pawned.
She wraps herself like water around the un-carved stone.
It’s easy to imagine, but hard to let alone.
I look for her in turquoise that mirrors desert skies,
The wind that sweeps the mesa, my lover’s sleepy eyes,
The haunted midnight pueblo, the cool adobe dawn;
Though mountains rise between us whichever side I’m on.
Below earth, streams release the arteries
of the undersea teeming with precious
abalone, granite and shells,
as a roulette of lotus defies gravity
soaking on the chlorine of a wind
only piles of sand can bestow…
and gentle the wavelets murmuring
hymns of serenity , somewhat delicate
as ocean mouth is to fish lips in the moist pulse
of swelling spaces for wooden fleets
to beckon the blue.
Like so, guardian of water observes the cruise
of a ship rustling a masthead…
intrusive vessels are aliens
to the underworld: greedy eyes, black hands
that rake mothers of pearl and babes of dolphins.
Fierce dugongs roll along, shaking the basement
of hunters’ boats on inlets
to pound doors of Neptune’s bed,
reflecting mirrors of an island scented
with coconut and tresses of women
bathing along coasts of such innocent gulfs.
Below earth, a divide between friends and foes
is honored; that beyond words,
a sea keeper rises to acknowledge
the kindness of strangers,
if they are kind enough to respect the gift of privacy.
10/2/2015
Chase Trevi's Contest:
Open Sea - Sailing, Creatures, Treasures
From heaven I fell in drop to swell,
Upon the waves of Loch Fyne.
From rain to girl, sand born in pearl
thus formed was I divine.
When first formed, I was Unicorn
And no name had such as I
But then the moon, the belewe moon
appeared and Rain rose I.
From rain, to pearl to Unicorn
to maid of Rain who cried.
Who rose, once more, a woman
at edge of ocean’s tide.
Upon the strand two horses ran,
two stallions side by side
each whiter than the abalone
the shell where she’d reside.
No longer could she race with them
all across the ocean's side,
she’d lost her horn and been reborn
in frailer form she hied.
Now, forelorn she rides astride
like a nyph, or virgin bride,
until that ole betrayer moon
returns she'll be not satisfied.
Contest/ Rain, The Story
By Debbie Guzzi
* A Blue moon is an extra full moon in a year.
Often there are many years between one blue/blewe
"betrayer" moon and the next.
We Are One
Dear Ancient Sister
I hear your distant calls finding me on a gentle breeze
You have lived in my dreams for many seasons
My voice
Your voice
My soul
Your soul
And our Coming of Age
I have always known you...
I have heard your
Quiet whispers echoing in
The night coming close to me
I call to you ...
Let me be a part of your breath
I have always known your wounds and sorrow
I see the light and magic in your eyes...
The pain you carry so eloquently
I see your reflection in the clouds above
Carrying your soul wound on your sleeve
I see the deep crevasses and lines
In your grandmother’s hands
I hear the secrets beneath the earth of
Your grandfather’s footsteps
I see your reflection in the twilight
Of the evening... against pink watermelon hills
Your voice beckoning me onward closer to you
I see you in the moon and stars
Your buckskin dress adorned with
Ceremonial beads
Abalone shell against your forehead
The dirt beneath your moccasins
Grateful for the kiss of your dancing feet
I hear the echo in the distance of songs
The Elders sang...
During their passage here
You are born into a woman
Before my eyes and heart
Before your tribe
Before nature
A wise new feline
A mystical power with endless allure
A force that lifts and unites us all
As one
Your rays blessing us and leaving
A welcome imprint on our hearts
My Ancient sister
I drink in your wisdom and grace
I fly on your wings
You have shown me your world
Watching you dance
Becoming you for moments in time
Your silhouette etched by
The wild flames behind you
A glow radiating into
The night sky
The stories of your Ancestors
Filling the air with
Words and lessons and song
Notes sung into clenched fists
With bloodstained hands
The children and animals
Sensing all that was
And all that will ever be...
The call of a distant bird
The thumping of your cane on
The hungry earth
Keeping time with
The movements of your body
You will look back on this
Day as you walk with the
Same cane down the path of
Old Age...
Your wisdom
Cupping your heart gently
Ancient Sister of mine
I am in gratitude for
Your strength and courage
The kiss of your words and
The teardrops of your loss
Susan Lawrence
Copyright 2020
Original Artwork
Susan Lawrence
"Light Kissed"
Light kissed her through the veil
Come tempest on the beach of morning sun
With Gold on your naked feet
Life has again for you begun
Like waves to shore
You’ll meet my kiss
Slow and full
Wet succulent with salty bliss
And more my sweet
The Realm of Long Forgotten Love
Like Dark Green Ivy
Life has renewed growth
covers your ground stony,
it’s swift and powerful runs
o’er Wet Green Irish Moss
While Briny Blue and Amythest Periwinkles blink
and Emerald Green Abalone and Black Bearded Lips open
to sweet salt the wounds in
their pale then deepest darkest delectables
bristling Sea Urchin Pink
luring in Odin
And marbled Grey Geckos change their colours
From your spring to drink
Dragonflies lick Life's luscious lips of flame hungry fire
in the Gloaming mist
Lust and Desire
pressing urgency
LOVE
is let loose
held tight by the wrists
The Albatross has flown higher and higher
A great journey for you
both it and the Ancient Mariner have sung
Mornings kiss Twilight
Sleep brings dreams and delivers
Titania and Oberon
who watch over
Soul's solitary march
through Dark Night and it's wrath
To walk forever Aphrodite’s path?
A nightmare of a pardon,
Be blessed with Persephone’s heart
Athena’s wisdom, Demeter’s courage
All dance within your blood, you are whole
Life sings like a Lark
Walks with you through the mirrors
Long silk Alabaster curtains part
Warm Velvet uncovered at last
Come tempest on the beach of morning sun
With Gold on your naked feet
Life for you
my
Sweet of The Just
once elusive
now silently and swiftly
Light Kissed
LIFE
has
Begun
(Lovejoy-Burton/May 2018)
1.
Photography/Rex Dupain
http://www.rexdupain.com.au/
https://www.maxdupain.com.au/
2.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43997/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner-text-of-1834
(for V.C. never far from me, always close by me)
He is the one, the only King.
All play-mates leave him quite alone.
No matter what morning doth bring,
He tends to play on his I-phone.
Stabbing red buttons, click, click, click,
He is so regal, and oh, so quick!
The king’s son we would never trade.
For this one surely makes the grade.
Not the kind of man to prance or preen,
Always nice to his butler’s aide,
Takes his orders from Mum, Mother Queen.
A robin’s stolen song to sing
And a delicate rose home grown
Could not make more handsome our king
Nation’s own sitter of the throne.
Stacked sky-high like a winter’s brick,
He was quite pleased, this young King Nick.
A handsome lad, a sharpish blade,
Whose butler ruined a parlor maid?
Swear oath, upon his throat and spleen,
Knew nothing of this escapade,
Integrity still clearly seen.
It was his lovely future dream,
To find an app on his cell phone,
Amid magical pink sunbeam,
A scented eagle duly flown.
With a simple ordinary click,
I sneaked a photo of good King Nick.
Talk-chatting up a lovely maid.
Diving into yellow marmalade.
Loveliest girl he’d ever seen,
Hair a curly ebony cascade,
Happy now, he saw future queen.
He found a gold and emerald ring,
With the sweet sheen of abalone.
Was a beautiful jewelry thing.
Forged from a white unicorn’s cone.
Double frothy, and rather thick.
He was satisfied, our good King Nick.
Against green grass, a picture made.
A backdrop sold at each arcade.
Taking photos with rather keen
Ripe selfies around royal glade.
Money-maker, impressing queen.
The queen thought devil phone would ring.
She thought his future duly blown.
Conjured a pretty dove-like wing
A pure one which had never flown.
Feathers so tight and rather slick,
Imagined by his summer creek.
Before, beyond this princely glade,
Ravenous hair, in beautiful braid.
She would make a lovely new queen.
Our Queen Mother rarely now seen.
Blue-eyed beauty is our new queen.
Royal Family led a happy life,
Son with parents, man and wife.
Fraught with goodness, not much strife.
Queen Mother tried to get in there,
Crazy madness, felt everywhere.
King found the girl of his dreams,
But had to give up mother, or so it seems….