Long Tides Poems
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The saddest hour of a gloomiest day
My happy heart had ever in life known--
The high tide that seemed to come with promise,
And the low, sooner did come all but gone.
They came heralding to my hopeful heart,
Both of them-- the waxing and waning kind,
The waxing kind came clearing all the dirt,
The waning one not too much far behind.
Yet, whatsoever life may to me bring,
Be it sad, glad tidings called joy or gloom,
Not tossed aside in due time if, gets stored,
Needless to clutter my life’s Spartan room.
If happy hearts, hopeful life were to lead,
There has to be room for pleasure and pain,
Nigh like tides, let them both come and recede,
Or else, the life’s no boon, but rather bane.
The saddest of my life’s most poignant hour
Of which my cheerful eyes had ever seen,
It came to furnish a fleeting picture
And vague, it vanished ere I intervene.
My saddest day's most miserable hour
Of which my curious ears had ever heard,
Alas, no lasting impress could bestir,
For, cruel time had all its sound bites blurred.
But what about my mind-borne memories?
They too alas met with similar fate—
In luck, same fate would face all my worries,
Soon or late, both to meet their destined date.
Well done my heart, you’ve made me mighty proud,
Life comes to all, no gloom to inherit,
Let miseries no more mental space crowd,
Sans gravitas, life’s closer to spirit.
________________________
Musings | 04.07.2009 | life, spirit, quatrains
When the rising tides of the storms of life assail,
My hope abides fastened secure to the Rock.
When the chilly waters cause my strength to fail,
My heavy anchor and God’s eternal love interlock.
When the blasts of fear come near my soul,
And the tempest my confidence can defy;
My anchor in the daring straits securely hold,
And firmly embraced in God’s loving arms am I.
My anchor keeps me safely moored in the wind,
Strongly tied to the Rock that commands the calm.
It keeps my vessel’s hull secure and me within,
And never drifts into the waves of a dangerous storm.
And when the floods of death make cables strain,
The hand of God holds tight against the wave.
So my faith in my Savior can fully intact remain,
And my hopes I retain secure and my anchor I rave.
Sandy was the scariest storm of the season
with gigantic waves rising and battering shores
as violent winds lashed houses and trees;
there was no safe place for someone who knows
how frightful and real is Nature's wrath watched from a window,
and until it left, faith brought me to my trembling knees;
I still cuddle up in a warm blanket and await the sunrise's first glow,
not thinking of death, but surviving for a good reason!
Boats and yachts in the Long island Sound were secured with anchor's chains
and rocking they withstood the surge's massive force resisting doom,
but the small bungalows along the roaring shore
gave into the rushing waves that advanced like a warrior!.
How awful they looked without doors and windows!
How sad were the pitiful shrieks of fleeing seagulls and raves!
Those rain shawls, accompanied by steady wind, kept on lashing the soaked dunes...
till they disappeared into the ocean's twenty feet tides controlled by an unseen moon!
The devastation of Sandy has left its anguishing memory in me,
and being afraid it will return...I shiver thinking of another catastrophe!
Comet!
It nears, it nears, it nears!
Dark halts, stars shift.
Eye views, it nears, it nears, it nears!
Flame in black, scar in sky.
Comet!
It mounts, it mounts, it lifts!
Towing a trail of old frost.
It climbs, it climbs, it cracks!
Glow spills, it stays!
It swells, it swells, it vaults on high!
Comet!
It coils, it coils, it lifts!
A long path bowed round the sun.
It turns to north, to north while spinning!
It floods, it floods, it clears the ridge!
Mid-worlds, it holds no stop!
Comet!
It vaults, it vaults, all at once!
Eons pass, then — there!
It springs, it springs into the sky!
It lifts with might, it lifts with might!
It leaps, it jumps, it breaks free!
Comet!
It spills! It springs! It lifts!
Tales stir, tides tug, hearts drum.
All things lift, no stop, no stop!
It nears! It comes! It is here!
Form:
The tides of time sweep my soul away
from the life anchored in the present
to the distant obscure shore left forever,
that’s the receding past yet to be obliterated,
but lying in the shadow of the perennial future,
and generating the convivial flood of copious love,
time carries to inundate the landscape of lives carved
in my mind where dwells the desire in perpetuity,
the deathless dream…immortality.
I like to see the entrancing memory un-annihilated
in the abandoned recess of the past,
for the birds of my love flies in the present,
spreading wings in the firmament of the future.
While I drift with the imperishable soul,
floating on the sublime sea of eternity,
and with the wind of love blowing on the sail,
I yearn to get from the stalled time's magnanimity
the surreal gift…immortality.
___________
July 26, 2021
Contest : Immortality Yes Or No
Sponsor : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Sands blow over
touching inside deep waves
turning tides warmly glow,
softly fluttering winds touching gently
upon the shores.
An oasis of beauty
deeply dazzling
freely calling your name,
drifting a carpet mist
kissing the air sweetly
silver shadows
hauntingly magic echoes,
carrying music upon
cotton clouds bouncing
in each and every single
whispering silent breath gasping
Breathing upon
one golden ritual
forever shines always,
I believe in you love,
a sunflower
made beautifully,
brightening sunlight beams
in every which way,
adoring light
all i ever wanted
is you babe .
Midnight darkness suddenly descended upon the city as morning peeped through the blackened sky the city waits in suspense to die.
They have been working for several days battening up windows and doors as if they can keep the wind out. Thousands of sand bags lined the shore forming a pyramid in the shape of a door, the sea gulls' flies to and fro holding mass on top of the sand's bags.
The military is on base, trying to put things in place, the governor is issuing warning and mass evacuation is happening. They have been through this process every year but some people just don’t care. Those that refuse to leave went flying seventy-five meter in the breeze landing in the boat that capsized on the shore.
The hollowing wind comes dancing in and the branches and roots begin to sing scattering leaves on the ground just warming up and looking around.
Everyone grips tightly to their beds holding on to their pillows while the little children held tightly to their mothers as the howling wind races like a mad man through the city. The intensity is low and the wind does not have a long way to go, it swirls around the street dumps water around as the surge spreads water throughout the town.
Everywhere is dark and just the old larks flying around looking for a place to ride out the storm before the wind picks up speed.
Hundreds of them are flying in the air looking for a place to land but the wind is blowing in different directions. They all hobbled on a in a dense tree trying to escape from the breeze but a category three wind was not strong enough to done them in.
The worst is yet to come, the day has just begun, its eyes are bulging, its body is swelling and its head is enlarging, it is coming out of the mountain and it is approaching the county center ripping up power lines, breaking up houses and tossing boats in the middle of the sea.
It rips through an entire city and flattens every house on the street leaving mud and debris in business places and private residence . I stood above and watch the Rolling Tides creating havoc in the town while the old lark kept flying around.
When gusty winds blow, riling my troubled dawn in gelid woes
Squall of my throes dissipates in scented whiffs of budding rose.
As brazen fog shrouds mind, heightening my grief, poking fun
Defyingly I step out in glinting rays of the dawning golden sun.
Refusing to surrender when my tears dominate indignation
Joy I find on the vibrant horizon, blazing sunset’s ruby elation.
Verdant paradise appeals to pleas, adorning my shamrock hills
Appeasing cry of stygian echoes storming from mountains of ills.
If night reigns moonless and nightmares soon rage my dreams
Comfort I find within soothing zeal of spring’s giggling streams.
While strife of life endures in raging summers of unending heat
Readily I seek blue oceans, surfing rhythmic tides’ buoyant beat.
As laments of the world drown humanity in hapless deep dive
Strength of nobility rises, helping weakened hands to survive.
When the rancor of disillusionment exudes ambivalent sigh
Autumn’s scarlet imprints eagerly vie, healing souls in russet dye.
As hindrance of the ordinary distresses progress of mankind
Delighted I am to see rationality unite, to defeat the unrefined.
When sullen is my heart aching in the anguish of ashen skies
Solace I derive from serene vibes gleaming your tranquil eyes.
At times in my life, I encounter the black-holes of opaque space
Yet, the light of day gets through in sanctuary of your embrace.
August 19, 2020
Placed 1st: Sanctuary Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
Oh my dear migrant birdie,
Have you crossed the hills so sturdy?
Tell me, what have you studied
Of all those migrant paths so hardy?
Hey, my dear buddy,
While crossing those mountains mighty,
We get tired and sweaty,
Yet we never stop our flight.
Oh my dear traveler bird,
Have you crossed the oceans wide?
Don’t you fear the towering tides?
Tell me more about the ride.
Yes, my dear cutie, the ride was very creepy.
My vision blurred in the midst.
I cried and tried, but my flock got missed.
Before nearing the shore, there were too many twists.
Oh my dear whirling beauty,
Having crossed countries thirty,
What scent has stayed within your mind?
What would you wish to smell again?
Hey, my dear dreaming dude,
there are umpteen scents that delight,
But one still lingers in my brain, and one I never wish to smell again,
It's the scent of blood from the fallen in war’s cruel fight.
Oh my dear migrant birds,
I love how you are whirling the world,
Upon hearing the catastrophes of many worlds,
Which is your favorite word?
Oh my dear favorite girl,
We whirl and twirl and curl,
Of all the words we hear and call,
I can say peace is the dearest of all.
April -17 - 2026
The wind rushes by me
Teasing in its’ pass
Sometimes caressing
Sometimes bold and crass
Then, moving onward
It hugs a maple tree
Some leaves of brilliant hue
Are tumbled and set free
It moves across a field
A wind-wave there is seen
It kisses blades of grass it finds
And all that’s in between
Dandelion parachute seeds
Ride its’ hidden tides
Depositing them here and there
New life therein resides
And I? I stand in wonder
And watch the scene unfold
Knowing I’ll not comprehend
What through my eyes I’m told
I’ve taken it for granted,
The Wind, its’ master plan
Proving, once again,
The insignificance of man.