ADRIFT AT SEA*
sea-worn bottle,
bobs on a digital tide.
inside, not paper brittle with salt,
but luminous lines of light,
coded in metaphors and rhyme.
message tossed
into the sea.
unknown sender,
no harbor designated, no destination
on any map.
it drifts, a lonely vessel,
across oceans of indifference,
until…
a seacoast appears,
unsummoned,
unexpected.
my eyes, the sand.
my mind, the beach.
I pick it up,
this delicate thing,
uncorking the silence.
The words flow out,
a story whispered,
a feeling shared,
across lifetimes,
across the vacuity.
suddenly,
I am the address.
the recipient unknown,
FOUND.
the message delivered.
the poem,
HOME.
*Note: I posted this poem at Poetry Soup in June 2025 then deleted it (www.poetrysoup.com › poem › adrift_at_sea_1740391). This is my original poem and has not been plagiarized. Also, this poem was recently published in Highland Park Poetry’s Anthology titled MESSAGE IN A BOTTLE. I am blessed.
"A Cemetery Can Take Your Breath Away. Watch Out Where You Walk." By Poet
When I travel I love taking photos,
of cemeteries and of a pretty rose.
Sometimes the picture gets my painted toes,
or maybe even my nose.
On one trip I took a long flight,
when looking at my photos I saw a bright light.
Taken in the daytime not at night,
the big ball of light gave me a fright.
Some said it was a ghost,
but the photo was not taken by the seacoast.
Was this a cemetery host,
if yes are you serving a pot roast?
May we be blessed to acknowledge all the wonders in our life
that have, for us, thus far accrued…
and to begin each day with a word of thanks…
and thoughts of gratitude.
Today I’m thankful for two-spirit people
I consider them a prize…
for they were born with the ability
to see the world through two different sets of eyes…
And I wish those of us without their abilities
across the globe…from seacoast to seacoast…
could at least develop kindness and love…
the two spirits we need the most
Once she had blossomed, a bold, independent spirit, educator, wife, mother, grandmother; now she is barely hanging on.
I sit beside her bed holding a limp, withered hand in mine. A hand which, when younger and stronger, had drawn colored pencil illustrations of stories she told me about life in far away seacoast villages. Barely outlined fishing boats, sails unfurled, dancing on white waves, fading into the distance; village houses with steeply pitched roofs to shed heavy winter snows; all drawn in a few shades of blue. A collection of those drawings, now framed, are hanging on my walls.
My gaze wanders out the window of her semi-private room, into a small courtyard where a pink dogwood is dropping the last of its spring blossoms. A small branch is broken and by a thin strip of bark, it is barely hanging on.
The mornings’ sleepy yawn awakes
I arise from bed as she breaks
Seafarer
Trees bend to wind in mock salute
With coffee to porch I do scoot
By seaside
Salt air swirls a foggy retreat
While sounds of the ocean keeps beat
In seashell
Shifting sands hold time in a grain
Spoken upon waves constant reign
Of seacoast
The days grace an ancient trade route
With love of beauty absolute
My seashore
written 5-12-2020 copyright Jeanne McGee
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Compounding The Verse Poetry Contest 1st place
Thank You Joseph :D you made my day today...
To get the most from summer trip to coast
start early dosed up with coffee and toast,
avoiding almost, the hot sunburn roast,
an uttermost certainty on seacoast,
when lying reposed in slumber engrossed,
you sleep well post noon, with your tardy host.
You Shine of the sun like delighting the senses,
Me the flowing water,beauty enhances.
You twinkling of the stars making darkness glittering,
Me the silent seacoast,waves do flirting.
You the sparking firefly making shrubby cage beautiful,
Me the attracted bug,scenario looks cheerfull.
You beauty of the horizon rising new hopes,
Me the arising thoughts,releasing misery ropes.
You the blowing wind refresing all over,
Me the blooming flowers,turns into spring flavor.
You the tempting rain makes the crust pleasantly smelling,
Mee the dancing peacock, deals with delight feeling.
You the flowing river beautifying the greenry,
Mee the riverbank ,glad to be the part of scenery.
You the soft snow cooling the nature glow.
Me the firm hill on which u gently flow.
You the chilling ocean immense on this sphere..
Mee the static island,compliment becomes rare and fair.!!
Where Seamen Flows
tootsie
booby
flaps wings
that sing
the night
hymns tight
for bread
embed
that fills
her bill
3/20/17
Writer's Notes-fishermen go out to sea, bring in a nice catch. Birds follow the boat in. Fishermen have a big load of cash in their pockets. Music to someone's ear? Booby's (seacoast flyers) get some silver. Fish. Bread/or fish in their bill. Tootsies is slang for prostitutes. With fishermen's bread (slang for cash) set aside (embed) to fill the bill. The title is also a play on words.
Love is divine, I am the ghost,
Love is marine, I am seacoast,
Love is serene, I am annoyed,
Love is creator, I am destroyed,
Love is giving, I will take,
Love is making, I will break,
Love is reaching to sky above,
Forget 'I' to see my love...
Love is hatch, I will kill,
Love is little, but I am Nil,
Love is nectar, I am venom,
Love is forever, I am seldom,
Love is light, I am night,
Love is love and I am fright,
Love is pious like a dove,
Forget 'I' to see my love...
One more hot, deserted and silent road
I have chosen this path in life
This lonely domain of thinkers
Some neurotic, some shy, some bold-
Rare do I find those who belong
in this domain-
When we do cross paths a jubilant solemnization
it is-
Only once in a silver raindrop does this happen
Share words and ideas- never anything to explain
As our velvet minds are then one
We sway, sing and dance with the trees
And wood nymphs only we can see- so rare
Fires burn bright- we travel to and beyond the heavens in one night
All under an orange moon, phantoms of Thinkers past, waltzing
with a slow seacoast breeze
Inside my mind I feel velvet
A delicate, downy cushion brushing my lobes
That feeling is like breathing fresh air for the first time
A sentience angels would covet-
As our velvet minds are then one
CULLERCOATS* DREAM REVISITED
Lifeboat bright on its modern track
Like shining star in the early dawn
Confronts the eroded view of the wreck -
Once was whole, now all gone
Pristine cliffs and innocent cottage face,
The welcoming harbour arms of yesterday :
Thru an unrecognizable shell of a place
Roads have raped their ruinous way.
There’s no recapturing past with dignity.
Real or unreal, to half-forget, half-recall -
Leave the ducks unspoiled in memory
In a dream lifeboat ‘gainst the squall.
Note : * Cullercoats is a small fishing village on the seacoast of England, much spoiled
from modern redevelopment.
A dewy morning
Whispers past the haunting fog
Majestic seacoast
Inspired by Raul Moreno’s “Ghost tides contest”!
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