Long Toward the sea Poems
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Spring is imminent,
but the salt marshes
are not aware, for
the air is cold and drear.
Patchwork of tan and gray
stretches toward the sea,
cattails and reeds bend east
in a still chilly wind.
Bayberry and rosa rugosa,
blackened as if by fire,
huddle together, backdrop
for frost bitten sedges
decorated here and there
with shiny spills, silver pools
left by the last high tide,
reflecting the emptiness
of a white winter light.
And still the marshes sleep,
waiting for a length of days
warmed by a stronger sun
to stir them from their long nap,
for juices to flow into
stiff, arthritic stems,
for leaves to branch out,
filling the marshes again
with a hundred shades of green
and buds of latent flowers.
Once again the process begins,
The unending work of rebirth.
Beyond the wave-sacked,
lie the pockmarked dunes, heaps dug
by the claws of scaly thrashers.
Here they huddle, my blood kin
flogging grim pleasures,
wolfing eggy sandwiches,
dipping tea-stained teeth into beakers.
By a shoaling shale and monochrome spray
one brine-splattered small fry.
A boyhood caught in a swirling freshet,
he whales barefoot in the flounder,
skimming the slimy kelp, stalking
a slippage of tugging surf.
Her demeanor soggy at last, mother
goads to be led to the creaking camper.
Father smokes a plug of leathery shag,
grunts upright, walks toward the sea.
A toppled thermos and leftovers
scooped up and lugged away.
Windswept, the lingerers
trudge from the chilly churn,
while a soused and hectoring bay
records a working-class holiday.
Edward Kenway was a pirate
He sailed the Spanish Main
He plundered British merchant ships
And the Galleons of Spain
Once he was a farmer
He walked behind the plough
But now he ploughed the oceans deep
He was a pirate now
He started as a deckhand
Till his bravery won through
Then he became a captain bold
And ruled a pirate crew
He sailed into Nassau
And he took that town
It was then the British Government
Ruled they must take him down
One bright sunny morning
The fleet sailed into the bay
They were British Men of War
They were going to make him pay
But captain Kenway had a plan
He knew what they must do
He slowly drained his pint of ale
The stood to face his crew
Come on lads we'll to the fort
Make them taste the cannon ball
If we surrender now me boys
They'll surely hang us all
Kenway occupied the fort
Behind its strong stone walls
He knew he had the greatest chance
To make the British fall
He had a dozen cannons
Set toward the sea
He swore an oath upon his sword
That he'd keep Nassau free
The oath that he made to them
Did his men inspire
They all swore to do the same
As the British opened fire
They felt the ramparts shudder
As the heavy metal balls
Flew through the air and thudded
Into the fortress walls
But Kenway stood before his men
And this speech he made
Fire your cannons at them boys
Lets make them afraid
We will make them shake with fear
They'll turn and run and then
They will always rue the day
They messed with Kenway's men
The pirates fired the cannons
Two British ships went down
But one hundred troops stormed the beach
They were trying to take the town
But Kenway had prepared right well
He had men upon that shore
Hidden under canvas sails
Ready for the war
The troops were taken by surprise
The pirates did attack
The were outnumbered three to one
But they sent them running back
Kenway's cannons fired again
And four more ships did sink
All the pirates roared huzzah
As they sank into the drink
Fourteen British men of war
Limped out of the bay
Their sails were torn their hulls were holed
As they sailed away
Through the years many tales were told
The legend slowly grew
Of how the British Navy
Were crushed by Kenway's crew
Ethics and Integrity
To live with integrity is to align oneself with the music of the cosmos.
Morality is not a set of imposed chains, but the natural rhythm of the soul in harmony with life.
Every act of cruelty, every exploitation of nature, strikes a discordant note that reverberates through the whole.
Compassion, honesty and protection of life, on the other hand restore harmony to the universal song.
Freedom is not the absence of boundaries, but the presence of alignment.
A river is most free not when it spills everywhere in chaos, but when it flows in its bed toward the sea.
So too with humanity - we are most free when we embody love, when our actions resonate with virtue.
Sex and Creativity
Sex is not profane, nor is it merely a biological transaction.
It is sacred - a union of resonances that can open a gateway to the divine.
When approached with love and reverence, sexuality becomes an act of creation not only of life but of spirit.
It can be an alchemy where body, soul and mystery meet.
Like all forms of creativity, sexuality is holy when infused with integrity.
To treat it as mere consumption is to desecrate its power.
But to approach it as sacred play, as reverent union, is to rediscover its role as one of the deepest expressions of love.
Do not stay too long in the mirror
I will descend in your memory
Do not stay too long under shower
In tactile filigrees you’Il remember me
Do not stay too long in the mirror
To stop the raindrops is very hard
To stop the plip plop is very hard
I will come out as your bard
I know you will let your guard down
I will be your bard in the drizzle
Do not stand at the Jasmine window
At the window sill your hair I will blow
Do not stay too long at the window
In the north wind I will be the snow
You'll madden yourself for the flakes
To stop the pink surge is very hard
To stop the fountain is very hard
I will be there as your bard
I know you will let your guard down
In the surge I will be your bard
One day the rain drenched you and me
Do not go out in rains toward the sea
I will make you think of me madly
I will be with you in huddled love spree
Together we will walk toward the sea
To stop the past rose from coming is hard
I know you will never forget your bard
To stop the fragrant shadows is very hard
I know you will let your guard down
To stop the past rose from coming is hard
Do not stay too long in the mirror
________________________________________
3/1/2016
“Look deep into nature and you’ll understand everything better.”
Albert Einstein
I stood on the sloped path near the waterfall.
Mesmerised by the sound of falling water.
All around grew green-leafed ferns,
While tall poplars and redwoods provided
Ample shade that covered the running stream.
Tall purple pickerel plants, scarlet cardinal plants,
Everything contributed to a sublime, picturesque sight.
A symphony of sounds emanated completely around.
Frogs croaked in great abundance, jumping in and out,
Of the clear stream where fish swam toward the sea.
And all around, busy bees fluttered over exotic flowers,
Where nectar provided them with such sweet nourishment.
Placed 1
My navigation seems as though toward eternity,
Though I'm alone, I could feel an unknown fraternity;
Surrounding the highway, both sides, are beautiful greenbelts,
While passing the mountainous paths from peaks rocks soft snow melts...!
I started alone from the darkness of obscurity,
Fate, midst kith and kin, has been my constant security;
Each season of summer, spring, autumn, winter, and monsoon,
I've been moving through a grand universal rhythmic tune...!
The path is not, always, symmetrically straight and smooth,
Scenes and landscapes do not always, sensory organs sooth;
Turns, twists, terrifically tricky titanic tunnels,
Hills and mountains that resemble black brown and grey funnels...!
Graves like Pits, ditches, drenches, potholes, and patch-ups pop up,
Dogs, cats, cows, donkeys, horses, and even wild beasts mix up;
Wrong-side, drunk, speedaholic, wreckless, and ruthless drivers,
Men and women who ignore signals and road-dividers...!
My aim, midst these, like a river toward the sea, is clear,
Day or night winter or summer, I have nothing to fear;
Humans or animals I meet, good or bad, I confront,
I drive ahead, calm and quiet, fighting each battlefront...!!!
21 January 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 34 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
A little daydream, like a butterfly
into my absent mind came fluttering,
in pink and blue pastel. Then to and fro,
it flitted as its wings began to grow.
Above those rainbow wings, I was sitting
as the giant butterfly went flitting
through a field of buttercups. We flew
then toward the sea which sparkled azure blue.
The flying marvel tilted, dropping me
into the crystal waters of the sea.
My body changed upon my daydream’s whim,
and I could breathe beneath the sea and swim.
A mermaid I’d become with hair so long.
I swam to shore and sang a siren’s song.
Sun sank! My lovely daydream slipped away
and left me on my beach towel where I lay.
Jan. 20, 2017
Near the ground
here at home in the west
A separate territory,
a hymn
to
the sea and
the sky
The eye catches
drifting clouds ~
as
gloss images
with lace
from grandma's time
20/08/2021
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
We were excited by our recent inheritance and decided to move
We packed up and drove to our new home, some family disapproved
We were thrilled, the old Victorian home was everything we wanted
Ignoring the rumors, not wanting to believe the place is haunted
It was magnificent, three stories with five bedrooms and a garage
Painted in blues, yellows and reds, like a detailed colorful collage
Decorative spindles, rounded arched windows and a widow’s walk
Rumors of a woman seen up there was most of the town talk
It was windy our first night and we thought we heard faint crying
We couldn’t sleep as we talked about stories of our great Aunt dying
Rumored she was found upstairs in the widow’s walk sitting in a chair
Waiting for her husband to return from sea, with a frozen look of despair
We still have the telegram reporting our Uncle was lost out to sea
Rumored she knew and died of a broken heart but how could that be?
As the winds died down the cries became louder with footsteps pacing
We were now both excited and frightened, our hearts were racing
A few weeks passed and no more noise, the house was calm and quiet
We went out to eat at the infamous town diner, couldn’t wait to try it
After our lovely meal it was dark, and the winds were blowing
We drove up our driveway and saw the widow’s walk was glowing
We saw her, dressed in lace, standing near the window toward the sea
Lightning struck the widow’s walk, the room now black as could be
We decided to go up and check the widow’s walk that frightful night
Empty until we spotted a piece of white lace on the floor that stormy night
10/31/21
Contest:" S" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France