Short Seafloor Poems

pearl on the seafloor 
                                        her kisses....
                                        on my cheeks...

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II

Sunken to the seafloor,
an ancient pearl-eyed maiden;
now and forever forgotten, is she
unreached even by the sunlight
descending indirectly
toward her parted lips....

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Looking for answer, drowning deep beneath sorrow, trying to breathe,
Gasping, panting for air, frantically searching to find an escape
Like a weight crashing heavily upon the seafloor....

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If seashells could see sails from the seashore 
seashells might sea sail see fail fall seafloor
cus seashells don't see sails on the sea soar
be seashells on seashores aside the sea stored...

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Sharing a summer adventure
with a soul sister
enticed by the comforts 
of a mystic island 
surrounded by blue seas
taking a plunge 
in the hues 
of warm vibrant waters
with our underwater cameras 
exploring the tranquility
of the transparent seafloor 
where we made our secret wishes 
upon the glowing starfish below...

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My amorphous amour
Resting far from my shore
Like a big lophophore
Planted on the seafloor

Though you're oh so far away
In the breeze, I feel you sway
Flowers blooming every day
My thoughts are where you'll stay

How I miss my lover's touch
Slept in blankets in a bunch
Grains of sand slip from my clutch 
Guess I’ll eat my tears for lunch 
...

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Behind the door, 
Lay your shattered tears in seafloor, 

Pardon my betrayal outdoor,
My heart wandered away indoor,
Through the trap door, 

Never let this guy indoor,
She recalled his spoor,
Washing the floor, 

Broken doorknobs,
A love stopped to a hidden doorsill, 
He laments in the dooryard. 

Doorways dispersed the doorstops... 

Crying her heart, a home withoutdoors,
Dead as a doornail......

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million miles across the room
you sing your insect chants
your contours blurred
like ocean cathedrals
and our love is like a missile
and muskets

cheers to the dark and the endless

'cause someday we'll live, I promise
far away from this mass dementia, 
macabre spectacle, 
manufactured beasts
and fabricated lies
at the bottom of the seafloor
in our own shell house
in Mariana Trench

but for the moment
no one's driving this burning car
out of consciousness...

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FEBRUARY FIGHT IN THE NORTH  ATLANTIC  

Turning home with her hold half full,
Wind picks up  - raging,  all the more
Fierce in its intent to smash her hull
And plunge her deep to the seafloor.

Murderous mountains of watery salt
Filled with cold hatred inside
In their drenching ice-bound assault
Make  kamikaze charges along our side.

Snapping rime-heavy shrouds
Tumbling  the boat in the chill peril;
Overflowing scuppers foaming in anger loud,
As, engine screaming,  she regains her keel....

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