Tide thins over pitted sandstone.
A knot of kelp loosens itself.
Under a skin of clear water,
something palm-sized breathes
among seagrass and Neptune’s necklace.
A bare foot pauses above the pool.
A child’s hand makes a shadow.
Its arms pour through a crack in the stone,
tasting the rock with pale suckers.
The creature answers
with rings of impossible light—
beautiful as jewellery.
Now blue:
not sky-blue, not water-blue—
blue struck from a wire,
blue coins opening,
small halos switched on
around dark centres,
exact as a warning sign.
The tide turns in the pool,
lifting the necklace of beads.
One by one, the blue coins close.
It becomes a dark shadow,
folded into the rock’s breathing—
a small secrecy the tide cannot name.
I believe in oceans
because I read
I read that they are green, and gray, or blue,
amethyst when daylight packs its cloudy bags
I believe in oceans
that they are more than waves and water
that there are beings who breathe inside them
plankton that drift in the current
algae, seagrass that wave to invisible companions
jellyfish, dangerous and translucent--
I believe in these.
Giant clams, who slam their engraved doors
on breakfast,
Phosphorescent jellyfish, undulating their many legs.
I have mused on the brittleness of crabs
and whales so colossal
that a planet might have swum by.
I tread brokenly on the constant earth
bruising when I fall
gulping the uncolored air
anxious for the future
believing in oceans.
I opened the door
it was unfamiliarly wet outside
the water eroded the memory
I have opened the wrong door
each door has a history
didn't know that
so I accidentally changed the story
now I'm entangled
it feels like drifting through the ocean
while seagrass has taken over your body
pushing you back
I don't want to go back
it is dark and wet
the sky is pouring heavily
compressing my lungs
I don't want to go back
I'll be forced to open my eyelids
and see
how mothers are wearing their children as a hat
… your mother
while the walls are detouring from our house
may keepers hold you safe
we didn't know better
Nimble fingers glide across the strings
practiced notes turn instruction into muscle memory
dancing, the bow sounds out each note
on the ivory shore, breezy and remote
Clouds drift about, sun warm on the face
shrill cries of gulls, waves crash upon the sand to replace
the accompaniment of a piano, buzzing of brass,
the trill of flutes, percussion with salty seagrass
Each note calls, a yearning stirred, fulfilling a role
letting the music sing a symphony of the soul
that words would not convey
performed for flowers on a warm spring day
"Syzygy"
Behind the wet dunes
fringed with seagrass
a blood crescent
kisses the forehead
of dreamer traversed
twin aeon syzygy
barefeet the velvet
sophia imprints
softly speak
like words seen
dancing across
the place between
heaven and earth
mapping deviations
non-standard
calibrating alignment
played forward through
unchartered jaded
emerald forests
where the satin skin
becomes sparkling
crystalline it shatters
like a shell disgarded, then
the body of no substance
becomes transparent
enveloped in rapturous
Devabani heralding
commands cast
from divine throats
lutes and sitars
whirling nightingales
dervishes wingspanned
accompany angelic legions
the journey melts into
deep blue mysterious oceans
easily walked, hypnotic the
transparent beckoning,
this is the way come,
come, come closer
closer, come forward,
on higher Elysian steppes
the bride smiles
an unspoken secret
and turns
the eyes are
twin windows
like doorways
opening
swallowing
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
Outside the sanctum, clenched teeth, tension,
a sense of being spun slowly, in comical ocean drift
Bobbed cork barely able to rein my orientation.
Luckily, current flux of haphazard happening flapped
a variable vantage.
Blown as though by silk hankie butterfly blessing
launched under lead light detail dragonfly wing
Inside the sluice.
tender seagrass arms greet me, surprise caressed
Silky entry to a tepid tub, a calm community
of smug inner sanctum club members, afloat.
Blind to bedlam, their faces automatically accepting
Smarmy, aloof, knowing the code
Clicked into correct holding pattern
Galvanized now among the longed for,
unlocked passage
Boasts a right angled me, porthole refuge
Catatonic sanctum immune to struggle
Bay of steady abundance
Top step mission for admission somehow granted mine
Spotlight shon on my cloned social demeanor,
Meticulously honed modesty of highbrow gallery.
24th February
Written for Contest: Gateway
Sponsor: Constance La France
Full of looming fruit
The black wind whispers
the children lived blithely
yonder in blue cave
The silent river protrudes
by the forked road
where the seagrass grows
The seagull mutely follows
jaded in evening sun
old church bells whisper chimes
Coolness and Autumn play in lonely chambers
Sacred blue chimes in plaid footsteps
The rusted window rattles
to the graveyard on the hill
The legends are foretold
twig like, the people remember
the dark ember days of spring
To see forever
I left the ship at the industrial part of the island
my tour of duty was over and took a taxi to the other side
to take a ferry to town.
At the café near the ferry landing, I drank a few beers glad
my work was done thought about what to do in the coming
days of freedom from the confinement of life at sea.
Since I had hours to wait, I bought a fishing line, hook and
a sinker, as bait, I used banana skin (it was all I had)
The water was so glass clear it appeared limitless I could
see the fishes swimming about and the seagrass slowly
waved with the mild current.
Bending forward, so fascinating looking down into a watery
world, with water so pure, it was as if the fish was swimming
in the clouds, thought of the Maori fable when the sky and
water was one, and life had yet to be born.
Somehow in my dreaming trance, I fell into the sea, people
came running, falsely commiserating over my mishap.
In the backroom of the café, I changed into dry clothes.
I
Five thousand years
Slow human gears
No internet ears
Seagrass grew
II
Now 200 rugby fields
Showcase Nature's yields
When humans are still
Posidonia, fiberball, grow it will
(Protected by God through Australia)
cold to the touch of warm sandy toes -
ebb and flow of liquid fantasy.
coolness climaxes at her sculpted shoulders.
coral hair, like seagrass, floats.
shapely legs morph. her tail breaches,
slaps salty air, then plunges into the deep.
4/13/2022
Line Gauthier’s Bite Size Poem no 42
Small fry
Fingerlings are playing among seagrass in shallow water
they stop when the big shadow of an adult passes overhead
sometimes they play is so exciting they forget
and end swallowed whole by a fish that knows no mercy.
Alas, the tiny fry has a short memory and soon leave
the seagrass attracted by shiny pebbles shines like nuggets
of gold on a summer day.
The play stops as it just like old school friends drift apart
to other seas and too smart to anyone bearing false bait.
There are no promises for elderly fish when finally caught
a fishmonger awaits them or the supermarket’s frozen
counter displayed in all their faded glory
Green turtles are listed as, endangered
and are mainly found, in tropical and sub-tropical sea oceans
they are one of the largest sea turtles, to have ever embraced our oceans
and are the only Sea Turtle herbivore, and a great sea ocean mentor
Green turtles graze on seagrasses, that helps maintain beds of seagrass
and when they have digested, going to the dunny release’s vital nutrients
for many species of plants and animals, as they thrive with stimulants
and seagrass beds are nurseries, for species to amass their social class
Sea turtles need beaches for nesting, but humans are encroaching
and they harvest their eggs, and hunt the adults for greedy investing
Coastal development, vehicle beach traffic, and other human activities
are destroying sea turtle nesting, and climate change is male declining
my feet in sinking sand
then waves crash back in
my happy place, my joy,
my grace
crabs released at dusk
i laugh and run for cover
will i ever dive back in
to swashy sand
i might, i must
regrettable
my trust
but who cares
to feel the hot sun
on tanning skin
the scent of coconut
the touch of seagrass
even cigarettes left
on tawny beach
and watch parasailors,
skipping beats of motorboats
knee deep in it now
waist deep
holy cow
the taste of salt
upon my tongue
like mannah
to this chilly wilderness
of quarantine
laughter of little minds
building castles,
watermines
toesies dipping
anxiously —
waterbabies in the making
baking mudpies
percolating tides
swan dives into cool Caribbean waters
heaven on earth
turquoise blue
piercing my ears —
the heart of the ocean
skipping stones
8/15/2020
Personal ghosts
I don’t believe in ghost
because it doesn’t make sense
so, my logical brain tells me, but then what value my logic?
There are times when a shadow crosses my room
but when I turn to see what it is
it is gone.
A friend of mine said if there is a ghost, the Fantasma doesn’t
it is a Fantasma, but it is a residue of the past
that has yet to be erased into the forever.
This is good enough for me, but I once saw Neptune
he had a wig of seagrass and big crabs in his pubic hairs,
but that was long ago, and I was young and easily impressed.
Swimming side by side in unison among red coral,
Entwining occasionally in their colourful pre-dawn dance,
A pair of small creatures resembling
Horses of the sea
Or perhaps Pegasuses - with pectoral fins
Rapidly fluttering like hummingbird wings -
Swirl and sometimes touch snouts, as if kissing.
Ending their ritual, the female
Spirals up out of seagrass, leaving her mate impregnated.
May 5, 2018
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