Short Surface(A) Poems

The skin a mere bleak 
surface; a kind soul has eyes,
peek-a-boo, inside....

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under the deep sea
we are
disconnected 
the surface a dream
rebreathing
totally dependent
freedom of movement
fins growing on the feet
buoyency is controlled
life is beautiful...

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In twilight sleep, dreams flow deeply, through mind-halls.

Caverns and crevasses hold many memories; some of past lives.

Inundated with dreamscapes, memories float and surface, a mind-soul reunion.

...

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Sayings
In a country of 
Bald people 
The wig maker is
The king 



If throwing a stone
At the moon 
That floats on 
The surface a lake 
You will shatter 
A beautiful image 
And ask 
What the hell did 
I do this for?

Motherhood

Even if female 
Crocodiles 
Are good mother 
It doesn´t make them
More cuddly...

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The lake is black, high country water,
ocular.

Beneath the surface, a species
reflected in an amniotic sky.

There are three here,
three progenitors
searching for the lost children
of mankind: -

water, sky and
that which watches.

Three wombs that wait expectantly.

The water stirs,
something born too deep
wants to emerge.

Let it!...

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if I was just a drop
Would that it would be you could see that I was spot-on
Right on the surface I formed caught
A spot the positive on the surface formed
Just a spot
I wroth, I shoot I shot the surface
Soiled  a spilled  slots
On the surface a piece  of gravity substance
Falling costs
As if it were it was just a  drop

12/18/20
Written word by James Edward Lee Sr  2020...

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A crinkled shore on the Upper Peninsula.
We are hunting Golden Eagles.

You find a small stone.
On the surface, a crimp and cockle
of wind and waves
has rucked an impression
of an eagle in flight.

“It's only ripple art, not even
a good depiction,
just water-wear. “
I say.

You throw it back into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand,
won’t even look at me,
until I admit the possibility
of divine crinkles....

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Memories surface,a requiem of
sounds,heaving emotions realign,
words recalled speak volume from
deep within , and live again on a trail
of nows  then wash nostalgia’s face
with random spontaneity from
the unconscious mind.The house
full of yesterdays,books that filled
wet Wednesdays,cross-stitched hours
upon the wall.Eclectic collected 
moments,sentiments,priceless,unique
and irreplaceable,this smell of love
percolating into endless tomorrows...

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Memories surface,a requiem of
sounds,heaving emotions realign,
words recalled speak volume from
deep within , and live again on a trail
of nows  then wash nostalgia’s face
with random spontaneity from
the unconscious mind.The house
full of yesterdays,books that filled
wet Wednesdays,cross-stitched hours
upon the wall.Eclectic collected 
moments,sentiments,priceless,unique
and irreplaceable,this smell of love
percolating into endless tomorrows....

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Riches
Rampant beneath
The surface, a body
Dressed in curves, hard edges, and sea
Bounty.

Goodness
That is needed
By the masses, a gift,
Yet used for self gain carelessly 
A rift.

By those
Who pursue greed
Seeking gains and power
Without the checks and balance of
Nature.

We see
The ugly truth
Over the globe, high bill
Of disasters and waste so crude
Oil Spills.

By CarolineCécile
Copyright © 06.29.10

For the Team Poetry Soup contest....

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On its surface a crimp and cockle
of a purling tide have rucked an impression
on a stone.
We are here to find Eagles
but the sky is too low and the wind too high.

You show the image on the stone
as if this were the very thing
we had been looking for.

I look at it squint eyed:
could be a crow

You throw the stone into Lake Huron,
won’t hold my hand
won’t speak again
until I admit to the endless possibilities
of crinkles, tides and wind
to produce
magical eagles....

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