Long Bay Poems
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Ocean surge, reflecting moon
Mermaids, sirens swim and swoon
Haunting song, night and day
Tethered boat just sailed away
Seadog specter with loud cuss
Shot himself with blunderbuss.
Erstwhile pirate ship revealed
Crew long dead their fate was sealed
Zombies scale tattered rigging
Captain Kyd counts his shilling
Sound of cutlass, who walked plank?
Bag of bones with chains that clank.
Lighthouse spread its haunted light
Spirits jump in mad delight
Ghostly antics in the deep
From Davey’s Locker spirits seep
Ocean boils with mystery
You and I will never see
Pixabay Image
by
Hullabaloo22
AUTUMN
Dusk sets in.
Cool breeze filters through stones on the pier.
Distant lights of the city glare, opposed
By a sun of scarlet and orange
Disappearing through waves
Beckoned by the sand.
Trees nearly naked stand as soldiers
Behind the shore guarding the water
And its unending journey,
Moving only in rhythm with the wind.
Light gently fades
Dimming the horizon to nothingness.
WINTER
Frozen patterns of beauty
Scrawled as nature’s marking.
Crisp leaves of cold
Standing watch over a hardened lake.
Blanketing layers of ice
Coat the shore, silent save for the wind.
A setting sun gives of itself
The last warmth of the day,
A dying time as dark sets in,
Leaving cold bitterness, it drops
Below the horizon,
Chilling the flesh of the Village.
SPRING
Sunset casts its narrow ray across the water.
On the far horizon, the top of a sail slightly seen
With each swell of the waves then disappearing again.
Storm breeze chills at the touch of skin.
Violently waves approach
Battering rocks on the pier.
Breaking high,
Surf mists couples as they watch
Feeling water cling to their clothes.
SUMMER
Sun sets in the west
Where children yearn for their freedom.
Shadows resist the streetlamp’s glow,
Drawing insects in the haze.
Warm and damp, silence shades the town.
Liquor bottles replace the nourishment of mother’s milk,
Graduate potions for the poisonous dark,
Where the children congregate
Awaiting the weekend’s potential.
END OF SUMMER
Help me bring our boat ashore
And stow away the sails.
You’ve shown me trust in a human heart,
And taught how friends can share their warmth,
If only for a little while.
I don’t wish these days to end,
But different dreams we’ve drawn in the sand
And carved in these stoic cliff walls.
We must now follow our separate paths.
Summer’s over, it’s time to part
And return this ship to pier.
Huntington Beach Sunset first published in High Tide Still Heart: Collection of Shells, Solitude & Ocean Rhythm, Blue Crystal Literary Magazine, 2026, all rights reserved. ISBN 106727832X
For the past three days,a torrid summer
scorched the windy bay
with an intense heat that
discolored the lustrous,wild grass;
even my light skin is turning dark,
resembling a blood-hungry gladiator
who fights for one reason only:
to earn freedom or die
in the arena where
people recite no prayer...
A feeble father and a robust son
pull out of the flowing and glimmering water
the fishing canes wriggling in hazy air;
this narrow beach adjacent to a lovely town,
is the safest haven for birds fearing captivity
and some traveled quite a distance
to find it without resistence or compromise;
my birds aren't found in a confined cage,
because they have never been subjected to rage...
they fly between sky and sea!
Ruddy,bare-chested men
standing on a roaring yacht,
as the parching heat
from the middle-sky's sun,
makes sweat flow from their skin's pores;
they ignore the inabriated teens
dancing to a heavy-metal beat
while they throw pices of meat
to a barking canine
that has seen nothing
but skeletons of shell-fish,
realizing his desperate wish!
Quick getaway for a few days:
By Little Bay our happy stay.
A road trip drive for Sydney tour,
Baby makes five in spree for sure.
A cozy place in outskirts cool,
Home comforts trace as fancy pools.
A suburb far from city lights,
Sea view on par with rainy sight.
Wet drizzle casts breath of fresh air,
Dinner at last with joyous flair.
An awesome feast upon The Grounds,
Fine dine at least, shared meal profound.
Then a stroll brisk to Sydney sights,
Viewed harbour crisp in dazzling light.
Opera House by Harbour Bridge,
Curious quick browse and snapshots hitched.
Lost in big crowd, the five of us,
Felt glee and shouts in joyful burst.
Chilly night air brought shivers cold,
Mocha sip sought to warm our souls.
Then we walked back to car park lot,
A weary slack in sure report.
Fond glimpses here of city tints,
Shared festive cheer in obvious hints.
A drive through streets so picturesque,
Quaint houses greet in rainy zest.
Thus ends fond day with tour fun sway,
Rest as sleep stays as night dreams play.
By Little Bay, our first day ends,
Watch wonder stay with wholesome blend.
Leon Enriquez
09 June 2018, Saturday
Sydney Tour Day One/
(13 June 2018, ACT)
Drag the old bones forward to the dock
Feel the cold wet bricks on weathered feet
Through holes in worn out leather shoes
Feel the brass handle of your crooked cane
Trembling to support your ancient footing
Through the fog there is nothing left to see
After 3:00 am darkness fills in as company
Wood planks come up from out of nowhere
Indicate you’ve reached your destination
Stand silent on the boardwalk by the bay
Hear the rippled waves touch the souls of rocks
One false step could land you in the drink
There is no end to what the waters depths might mean
If the tide rolls in it will return tomorrow
But tonight an old woman comes by
Taps you on the shoulder in surprise
If you turn and she has wrinkles, kiss her
Hold her hand and smile
Hope the dock supports your plan
The mystic bay channels my
every emotion moving slowing
throughout tunnels and vessels
of my mind tampering with
my infamous glow my tangible
smile gathering mirth as i am
quite taken with self the heart
of my magnificent being tasting
the glamorous hues of heavenly
bliss coasting daintiness balanced
so well embracing thoughtful
interludes chastised mannerism
created just so as i continue
flowing between this galaxy of
stars twinkling magnitude offering
nothing an yet so glorified, fulfilled
with every inch of the fine wonders
of enduring this wide open grandeur
beyond a whisper blindly heard
bravely singing my own masterpieces
the notion a fine rapture of proses
carried out across the mystic bay
You’re still a young man
tower of power
was the band
for me
back in the day
the greatest funk band
of all time
proudly East Bay Grease
multi-racial, multi-cultural
great horn section
of all
they did it right
and their best song
You’re still a young man
was the best make out song
of all time
best song to slow dance
with a potential lover
at a party
best love song
of the 70’s
and I still recall it
and all the woman
i danced to the song
with back in the day
and I still feel
that I am still a young man
with the love of my life
playing the song
of my life
At dawn the bay bed glows peachy yellow.
The waters above blue-green and gleaming.
Further out a grey shroud of ripples entraps the yachts
with lace nets en-snaring a flock of hulls.
Yet farther out still, the sea surface glistens and sparkles.
Then, the bay yawns and stretches, waking up, refreshed.
The first breaths of wind seep in like fingers
grabbing to get a finger hold to pull
the windy gusts in, with big blow coming.
Soon the sea is a field of grey ripples,
which grow to wavelets lipped with flecks of white spray.
Now the yachts wake up and jostle like horses
pulling at their moorings, dragging side to side.
Listen, you can hear the dash of splashes prancing
on wave crests as the winds build up in the bay.
Sea's morn color and transparency now blurred.
Dawn's calm serenity and beauty now forgotten
Koala Bay's agenda has shifted to: Up anchor, Set sail and Play
The boat skippers and crew flock bayside to make it happen.
Both sailboats and sailors love to rock and roll in bay streaked
with gusts driving white horses with jockeys wearing white caps.
Hoist the sails, drop the mooring lines, tighten the sheets.
The yachts surge forward, like race horses, with muscles and sinew straining.
They leap through the waves with leaps, bounds, thumps and jumps.
The spray flies, flung by the wind against weather beaten faces
It is noisy now, with bash and splash and skippers yelping and barking at the crew.
Koala Bay loves the performance, loves to entertain.
Tonight the bay will be calm and serene again.
Time to herald the bay's softer underbelly of shear stunning beauty.
Tomorrow the wind will conduct and conjure up another day of rollicking fun and adventure.
Edinburgh, Scotland is where the Union Jack is unfurled.
This city gave a rock and roll gift to the world.
Dressed in tartan kilts and scarves were five talented boys.
During the seventies, they gave countless teens great joys.
They recorded a hit song that to many sounded just right.
This number one record was the memorable "Saturday Night".
Some other hit tunes that followed would play.
With personnel changes, the Bay City Rollers are still around today.
They are still wearing their tartan kilts and scarves by the way.
I thank wikipedia.org for valuable information I obtained to write this poem.
*VIDEO of San Francisco by Scott McKenzie, Cheers to Tony Bennett.
City of Hearts and Home by the Bay
Day star's mist yields to its grip of a bridge,
Span steel strands, harp-like, golden tags a smidge,
Light drapes the streetcars, up and down the hills,
Chimes, mass speeches, music, and painted stills,
Juggling pantomimes, street fair atmosphere,
Haight and Ashbury crossing yesteryear,
Fisherman's Wharf nearby Pier 39,
Seafood platters and fine dining with wine,
Downtown Union Square, lunching alfresco,
Market Street, Tiffany's, a Broadway show,
San Franciscans, whenever we're in Rome,
Ideal for some, but we call this home.
2022 December 31
*2nd Place*
Take Me There
~~Margarita Lillico: Judged 2023 January 21
*RZ & HMS.