The Sea Poems

You don't have to stop the sea to make me feel you've chosen me

You don't have to stop the sea to make me feel you've chosen me,
for I've lived moments of dreams, yet loneliness has embraced me.
I won't ask you to stay where you don't want to be,
I won't hold onto things that don't cling to me, I won't insist on keeping them.
But if you want to take

A Neighbourhood At The Bottom Of The Sea

There is a mixed shoal of marine life creatures
Who live in a neighbourhood at the bottom of the sea
A mixed and varied group 
Living together cohesively and in harmony 

Timmy Tuna and Sally Salmon are best mates since primary school
They hang out together daily, have fun, explore and swim 
Yet always aware and mindful of

Along the Sea Shore

They walked barefoot on the wet sand.
The hot sun had dipped beyond the horizon.
The brine and fresh air intertwined,
How pleasant to walk hand in hand!

Occasionally she would stoop, 
Her wedding ring glinting in the dying sun.
She would search for lovely decorated shells,
Whilst he tried throwing flat stones
Across the calm stretch of the waveless sea.

Finally, they

The Sea is Between Us

When I read your words, I feel a sense of peace!
The words are pleasant and offer me a chance to feel love!
Each time we speak, I feel your heart sharing with me a piece!
The words are of magnificent bliss like the beauty of a dove!

The sea is between us, but our hearts are connecting with

THE SEA AND I

First of all, I must say that I love the sea so much
in the past, I dared to repeat words from the poet Areias,
"Sea, my ground"

RETURN
If the sea deigns so much
to lose a little water
to wash my feet...
I reciprocate, filling it
back with my tears...!

I know the sea's salt,
so many shipwrecked ships...
I know the sea's distance
so

Oh, How I Love the Sea

When I was a kid,
I only knew the sea from a distance—
from the deck of a ship,
sailing from Manila to Bacolod.
I’d lean against the railings,
watching the water stretch limitless,
wondering what it felt like to touch.

It wasn’t until high school
that I finally stepped into it.
Waves around my legs,
sand between my toes.
And just like that,
I fell in

The Cartographer and the Sea

He drew maps for a living.
Not of roads, but of promises
Soft lines where her laughter once lived,
tiny arrows
where her eyes used to point
when she couldn’t say stay.

She was the sea
Ever folding into herself,
a hymn of salt and leaving.
No harbor could hold her,
no anchor dared ask.

He traced her tides in silence,
built cartographies of could-have-beens,
and marked in

IN THE SEA OF LIFE AND THE SANDS OF TIME

IN THE SEA OF LIFE AND THE SANDS OF TIME

As the sun continues to rise,
As the moon continues to wane and wax,
Here I am, continuing to wave on
The wrinkling sea of life, streaming to its shores,
To froth and seep deep into the waiting sands of time;
Here to canvas clanging conch-like echoing footprints:-

As the sun continues

By the sea

i often wonder about the why’s and where’s

why the sea scent permeates the air
and where it wanders so across the land

why the waves unfurl without a care
and where it is they toss the sand

why the moon freehands its glitter
and where its drifting loot is carried

why time spent in contemplation is never lost
and where our serenity

Child Of The Sea

I was a
poet
you
were a sailor
Waves
came in couplets
words
in the brine

I was
reborn
with the ocean
in rhythm
Released
in its wonder
forever
— in rhyme

(Dreamsleep: June, 2025) 

Back To The Sea

I'm Con-Fusing
More Than Con-Fused...
At Least I Think I Am
How Would I Know?

Never-Mind That,
How Do We
Measure?

Confused Or Confusion,
By Intensity, Somehow,
I Guess... Or Is It How
Much You've Ignored?

Let's Just Hope
Something...
That Goes On 
In Your Head,
Wasn't Something
You READ!

Chuckle.

Sand-Dollars.

-Gray Squirrel

06-28-2025

House by the Sea

They hang like a beaded curtain
in a fortune teller’s parlor,
each buoy a bauble 
from the sea’s own trove—
sun-faded, 
barnacle-bitten, 
unstrung from nets 
that once strained tides for omens.
Now they sway in the wind, 
rattling secrets and guarding
the doorway to elsewhere.

Who dwells behind the curtain—
a castaway witch, perhaps,
who brews fog in mason jars
and weaves seaweed into

Theotokos: The City Beneath the Sea

At 10,911 meters beneath the Pacific veil,
where no submarine dares dream,
I descended into the throat of Earth—
into the trench men call Mariana,
but spirits call Theotokos.

There, the water was not water—
it was glass that hummed.
The ocean floor rose like a palace,
built of crystal bones and music stones—
a cathedral of sound and secrets.

They called it the House

Bride of the Sea

Ships sink to bottom in billowing sea;
"It's in that number," apparent to some;
Walking the coast, "I'm no widow," said she;
Either await or admit it won't come.
How many years did she wait for that ship?
Youthful and vibrant to aged and gray;
How many courses of life she let slip,
Married to breakers that crash on the quay.
Surely, we

Walk the Sea

Life can call us, to walk on water,
To rise and face the daunting danger. 
Our safety and security lie in Him alone,
On waters deep, His favour is shown.

To step in ways not tried before,
Or walk where none have dared explore.
Yet faith makes easy what seems steep,
His Voice guides where trust runs deep.

Peter heard and left

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