At the saffron edge of twilight’s crossroads,
you pause, listening for what the air keeps;
a small shell rests in your palm, cool and sure,
its inner hush guiding you forward,
toward whatever waits beyond the turning.
A tall fellow strolled on a beach abroad
Along a cream-like sandy shore unflawed,
He tripped on a small shell
And fell with a sharp yell,
Lying on the ground while all his teeth gnawed.
like the rock for the centipede
or the shell for the hermit
take refuge under the moon
as the world goes quiet.
with silence like a serpent
taking shelter from the wet ground
anchor in gratitude
for the day that was had.
amidst your silenced tongue
there are sentences waiting to be spoken.
amongst your alienated adversities
awaits acceptance.
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing me a song, ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦
A song of ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ tropical trees,
Of islands ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦
¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Of fishes and corals ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
And seahorses ¦¦¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦ ¦¦¦¦¦¦
Sea Shell, Sea Shell,
Sing of the things you know so well.
(Blackout of Sea Shell by Amy Lowell)
Written: August 11, 2026, for a contest sponsored by Joseph May
***********
SHELL
bright curl
nestled pearl
echoes held in hush
tide prints the hollow shore
ancient songs shimmer, return
remembrance whispers through spring heart
She is ok in a small dose
Other wise its a living hell
Try to be the perfect hoast
She reverts back to her shell
Never is she though one to boast
But thoigh always kiss and tell
At times pushed pillow to post
"Oh yeah er ok ,oh yeah oh well"
Still she is quite unlike most
Love,maddness,trouble -
she dose spell!
At times like living with a ghost
Never in the here and now,
Idea crom conversation back in 2014 bits taken fom here and now now and then writes,written 2022
securely sheltering it in her shell
nurturing while within
heeding to each gentle whisper
to each tap from tiny feet
in time She curls it in her embrace
caresses it in her hug
fondles it with boundless care
cuddles it with sweetish love-
when fully fledged, sailing the high sea
will it care for the cowry shell, its first home!
Free to be spontaneous and finally dare.
AP: Honorable Mention 2026
What is it that makes me weak? What is it that I can't sleep? How come the smallest thing triggers and the biggest thing withers? I know my God exists, but I do not feel like an easy fix. Why does everyone leave me? Why don't I ever leave them? I know I deserve better and yet I still allow others the pleasure. The pleasure to hurt. The pleasure to use. The pleasure to abuse. The pleasure to apply such a pressure that turns my black skin blue. 100 times I've said I was tired. But 100 times more I did not have the desire to walk out that door. I don't find being tough easy to do anymore. The tougher I am, the harder it gets to pretend. Like an egg. Hard on the shell but the opposite lies within. I am ready for my yoke to spill out. I am ready for my shell to crack. No longer can I be hard. No longer can I choose to react. I love a lot. I want to be loved a lot.
The blue crabs soft shell
for a week at best
the wait for the hard shell shield
may only bring death.
This vulnerabl state
inherent to us all
must be hidden, eliminated
to avoid it’s fatal fall.
One that doesn’t withdraw
inspite of no protective cloak,
are few among many
giving us all hope.
Breath may be shortened
on this baron land,
an actual oasis
for the strongest at hand.
Breathing air that all share
would be suffocating for this soul.
Their predisposition to sensitivity
allows them to achieve
their ultimate goal.
Putting others first
so their breath is not shallow.
with the strength to breath less
as they follow.
my ostrich shell painted with
springbok and entangled daisies
blowing in icy wind
I drink yolk and albuminous
whisperings along rushing waves
we are soft dreams where
a fishing boat stood
buildings now deserted
¥
storehouse freshly painted in ochre
fishing nets drawn alleluia
dreams float with the sardines
drinking coke we celebrate catch
wind skips along Hout Bay shore
daisies clap wild petals yellow
shells smashed we eat boiled yolk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the miracle of low tide
in the glitter of an afternoon
the sun bestows its magic
on every grain of sand
And seashells come out
to play and sunbathe
enchanted on the beach
with awe and whimsy
AP: Honorable Mention 2026, Honorable Mention 2025
My soul’s a shell with wind of time
That blows inside forever
The hollow roar of waves it hides
Although its calm as ever
My mind’s a desolated street
To fields of green and meadows
It leads but not a face I meet
Beneath the tangled shadows
Gone is the 16 Marroway
Gone is the Jansel Square
The garden where Pippa played
Has vanished in the air
My heart’s a cactus on your sill
Under the heating sun
It hopes for water you could spill
Although it knows you can’t
You disappeared in the space
But you remain in time
I know for sure there’ll be a place
For us, and some fine wine.
Frail heart's are weak minded bigots
I felt this disturbance enter into the light
this cold dark cloud burning below zero
it sends the shivers coming from its shadow
The broken record begins scratching a surface
ingrowing putting the needle between words
sewn deeply rooted the reflection appears mirrored
frozen watching this crossover
it all happens without conflict in the company of wolves
Ripping to shreds rights and other human truths
a journey begins in order for us to open our eyes
to see we must start exercising to earn virtues of humility
Without Grace at the helm souls will sink
impurity has adopted so many bad habits
it hates to stop
inappropriately it sits back and watches the seed of destruction flourish
The Truth will rise from ashes of despair moulded
in the end we need to internally examine this shortfall
and overcome our weaknesses making progress acceptable
hence we can always live for a better future with God
A DOVED SHELL
A slow-moving shell,
caboose-like crawling in peace:
Cute little turtle:-
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