In the gray light of the day
where the cold wind of the Arctic
bind me to an acre of broken ice
I lay stranded and dying
No one will hear me, I am alone
trapped between a sense of reality and illusion
The night is coming again, where nightmares hide in the silence
tearing away at my frightened soul
as it wanders through my body, seeking reasons
While I lie here, my life slowly passing before my eyes
I see the years built one upon another
leading to my lonely death on this ice flow
My life will end
And I will enter the realm of memory from the living
Each breath grows shallower
The cold is burning my flesh
As I write these words with my mind
frozen in time, alone
Another casualty of the North Sea
from unforeseen circumstances
I slowly turn my head. In the distance, I hear a ship's bell
Maybe it's an illusion, maybe it's not
Maybe it's too late
All feeling has left, it's getting dark
Maybe, maybe, maybe
Someone will come, A wish to dream upon
Maybe my final breath will come without notice
“Your ocean lives- some depths unknown;
perhaps new life- a cornerstone.”
__by Poet
Oh, Arctic Ocean, you are one of five-
smallest and shallowest for sure.
But you are deeper in places
covered by ice all year, perhaps with unseen life.
Your continental shelf is broader than the rest
with underwater features that
impact all species' great diversity
in managing climatic shifts.
But, will your freezing temps begin to warm
and sea ice start to melt away,
to change the Global Climate and the rising sea?
With this, you play a crucial role.
For those who have not traveled far
to feel the beauty of such Arctic grace
can see in videos the bluest pristine skies
that frame your glowing crystal caves.
Your calving scenes so mystify
as giant blocks of melting ice fall in the sea!
Though smaller and shallower, to compare,
your might and beauty rise above!
It all started when I moved to the West Coast
And lived on a San Francisco Street called Post.
An experience on Post Street forever changed my life.
Until then, I did not realize that my heart was lost.
Nevertheless, I found my heart in the soul of a vagabond.
I was a believer, but too blind and busy 'to show deep love'.
That gentle man taught me things I thought I already knew.
My 'people love' was far more shallower than I realized.
Before him, I never knew my heart contained so much stone.
Reuben, the vagabond, challenged me to go above and beyond;
His heart was lost, but so was mine in a different kind of way.
He was alone, homeless, and hungry when God sent him my way.
Moreover, God knew that each of us had what the other needed.
Encountering him forced me to do things never dreamed of before;
To pause and put 'Love in action' in ways I'd never done before.
Everyone enjoys cruising easy street
Hits keep playing around the clock
Everything flawlessly falling into place
Puzzle pieces effortlessly interlock
Humming along until hit a speed bump
Your momentum derailed by a detour
Diverting your good vibes off track
Unsure if you will be able to endure
Then reminded of our ability to bounce back
That has craftfully carried us this far
Have tackled tough times like this before
Know that we'll be able to raise the bar
So now when we find ourselves in a rut
Realize that it is shallower than before
Because the bottom begins to get filled in
Restored with resiliency from our core
The spoon appears shallower in a drink
The river appears shallower than it really is
Logics and facts are to be discovered
And man with his intelligence
Will repel
The many refractions of fallacies
Beteern man and science
Between man and man
In our lives
Water takes the shape of any container
Like an innocent child
Refractions in water
Look bigger and shallower
Like an illusion of the imagery world
Water absorbs any pollution
Like a stupid man
Water flows from the top to the bottom
Like the refugee
Water comes in ripples, waves, rain
Rivers, sea, lakes, and waterfalls
Like the various characters of man
Who laid his lustful eyes on you had no feelings
that matched yours palpitating with tenderness;
he had nothing to offer you truly but pretension...
not caressing you and making you feel his passion.
What seemed true was shallower than empty words;
his possessiveness never brought any smile of gladness,
any sigh of hope beside a burst of casual laughter
you could have done without in the midst of anger.
Some say that delights are very short joys,
those escaping moments never to be seen again
in happier days when time stopped ticking minutes;
who can erase them from a mind that couldn't condemn
lies but forgive them with a gullible innocence?
Can truth be hidden under the mask of pretense?
What seemed true seemed shallower than empty words,
more painful than an open wound that resisted healing;
is it worth chasing a lovely dream until moonlight becomes
that invisible glimmer when darkness starts disappearing?
Had I those depths that elsewhere thrive,
Swiftly I’d into your blissful fathoms dive;
And bid old pangs on the loveless shore
Eternal bye as I toe and hair slink below.
Breathlessly I’d raptured sink down till
Heart and mind grow all mute and still;
And yet explore your depths’ fairer find
By dainty dints of amorous ions twined.
I’d not satisfied yield to early pleasures
That delude shallower ocean creatures;
Deeper yet would my rapt cruising go,
Farther byeing old pangs of the shore.
If transient blisses be earlier found
In my fishy drifts downward bound,
Savor them I may but further glide
Beyond easy pies Romeos deride.
At last methinks I should espy
Your ocean’s bed before I die;
And even if not I must for now
Sink yet for deeper feel below.
The powerful palpitations pounding in my chest,
Will my heart with stand this test,
Another attack has just begun,
Abracadabra out it sprung.
Piercing pain constricting my chest,
My ribs collapsing, the attack conquering its quest,
Each breath harder, sharper, shallower than the next,
My fingers hastily clawing at my chests raw flesh.
Panic awakens my pale plain face,
Every gasp leaves a lingering lifeless taste,
Time is of the essence, prayers wont save me now,
The devils claws run deep and are dragging me down.
Awaiting me, a fiery hell of tortured terror,
My lungs burn is my soul to be condemned forever,
Just one deep breath to save my soul hear me saviour,
I beg of you I am not ready to meet my maker.
Finally the attack releases my air way,
The fatal fear and fantasies begin to fade away,
I have survived another panic attack today.
Perhaps not the Mountain -
Perhaps even not the lone hermit, atop said mountain...
sitting as still as tea leaves, left in their jar.
Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unneedful of needs.
Of deeds.
Now moving as imperceptibly, as slowly, as wakefully
as the ‘still’ tea leaves, damp on the saucer;
unfolding like mornings in morning’s new light.
Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unmindful of mind.
Of mankind.
Perhaps not the birds, resting in nooks in rookeries
by snow lines and greenlines.
Perhaps not the lizard or sheep,
one sharp-edged like the low-edges of shiftrock,
the other white-topped like lost-edge of the hightop.
Perhaps not the leopard, rare as the swear
from the hermit; still stretching...
out her morning.
Perhaps none know the mountain
is a slow wave
of Earth.
A Slow Wave
come crashing
so slowly into
shallower Earth.
A great primeval upheaval.
Never again it will be like those joyful days
Sun gleamed the crystal clear water through shades
As gleeful children were bathing in Latanier River
Or chasing friends on the banks through gossamer
Dumped debris cover the sides like shroud
Where green grass and flowers would abound
Thrown excavated excesses have narrowed it
And with varied objects it has shallower a bit
Vanished fraise thickets in their embellishment
Is one drawback of development and negligence
I miss the fun in the friendly bushes on the sides
As the morning mist grouping as puffs would rise
Its destruction chemistry renders it unsteady
So frequent flooding may make sad history
It's not mistery, no more flushing with fish
But choking of pollution was never my wish
Chilhood moments of serenity I'd seize
Different birds singing in the gentle breeze
The river flowing created strange euphony
Far better than under the thatched canopy
The sound you make are for attention;
But did I ever mentioned that I can't hear you;
Shallower whispers newt silences
Glorify the quite
Psst!!
What ya say?
Making bacon on the barbeque grill;
Racing chocolate milk cartons;
While all the while the dentist jackhammering the wisdom of your jaw;
The motorcycle is coming down the hallway, just exiting the bathroom;
While currently curtains of Camelot presidential parade s;
All this fuss is amongst us;
Yet I can't hear a word you say;
Psst!!
Cantaloupe swept use surprise;
Only at library, funerals, and nap time for babies and the elderly;
What ya say??
Can't hear U;
Git on up open your mouth!
Robbers got their chewing gum!!!
Start yelling hush, better run;
What ya say?
Can I have your tent and can of beans, please...
What ya say!
Before I roll up out of here;
Small mouths are loud can' t hear what I say;
I prayed today that my words would be heard;
Psst!!
What ya say
And right away I forgot what you said;
I can't hear you for all quietness
Thank God He ordained
Attentional whispers huh!!
Psst!!
Aimless foot prints mark a wind torn shore
deserted rifts splitting a secluded scene,
(where romance rocked a heart between
painted paradise and realness once adored)
our heads inevitable drift even deeper inside
And as blood red curtains paint a choppy sea
where last sun rays die a temporary death,
(so wondrous how they hold their breath
to pat one later on the back with glee)
even shallower time stamps left by our feet
Everything erased a minute after we passed by
incessant and unrelenting a water without feel,
(your hand in mine, I bend over and steal
evening breeze kisses, almost shy)
and find myself in you a place to hide
An uncertain future held without hope
washed away shores with unfulfilled dreams,
(but because nothing is as bad as it seems
with you by my side, I can certainly cope)
together our spirits and lives are complete
Darren White
Tim Smith
Winter is a despicable demise, more fear rises
while the sumptuous moon claims herself queen of the stars;
ghosts stump on the wooden floor their sound terrifies.
Their image glows in shadows shallower than clouds,
they rattle the tiny crib where gorgeous James lies,
" Ah, dark Heavens! It's a nightmare unlike others! "
I glance at the gloomy forest without moonbeams;
the artic wind bends tree tops, stripping them of leaves;
is he angry, or moaning the loss of brightness?
I stare farther, the above firmament frightens:
constellations disappear from these very eyes,
adorned with brilliance, the big moon smiles!
Written on 1/8/2017
anxiety, care, corruption, creation, destiny, environment, rainforest,
CHERRY-PITS AND FOGGY AIR©
Miseries mount on high
If only I had that again
Too little too late too much
Life’s no bowl of cherries
And the rain fell hard today!
Skies sheathed in dust and smog
Pollutes the once green terrain below
The ‘fresh’ air demotes to shallower breaths
Intakes ‘tanked’ to partings of out rage
The taste of ‘bottled’ flavoured water rises
The ‘breaths’ of air when bottled will increase
And next it will be one costly ‘purification’ deed
For those left and known to mankind.
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