there's something intrinsically poetic about lists…
1.
bread (wholemeal)
twelve eggs
solar panels
occasional frogs
corporate lawyers
steam
2.
onions (red)
tomatoes (finely chopped)
garlic (four cloves)
fireman's ladder (aluminium)
disparity (secretly hidden)
mildness (abundant)
gluttony (almost definite)
mozzarella (abridged)
3.
clean sink
dirty sink
point un-necessarily
wear wetsuit and carry surfboard in populated area
shirk responsibilities
vacuum dog
hide
reappear (nearly palindromic)
borrow an eagle
book car in to be painted yellow
buy a bucket
start new list
Above the Melting Ice
Soft white skin, taut and smooth.
Insulated from the Arctic cold,
Snuggled warm in its wetsuit, he sleeps.
Protected from predators,
Camouflaged as a mound of snow,
Ignoring sounds of cracking and popping.
Each inhale releases, exhales,
The slightest shift in movement,
Flippers anchored to his round form.
Slow to stir, he scratches.
Returning to the place of now,
Covered in quiet contentment.
Coal-black eyes scan the horizon,
Nourished by the bounty within the icy waters,
Effortless, he slips into the abyss.
A place of serene silence,
Embraced by the essence of life,
Peaceful, pristine, perfect.
I too must remember,
The embrace of life’s essence,
Living above the melting ice.
dive into green sea
swim in green wetsuit a tease
green island green dreams
Sweater than honey love may seem
Its reality,bitter than ever imagined
A rain of happiness we suppose
it showers
Great floods of sorrow accompany
its arrival
It can be a trusted guard to your path
It can also be the terrorist blocking
your escape
It can be the perfect healer to your
heart's wounds
It can also be the antidoteless poison
darkening your heart
It can be your anticipated beautiful
Spring
It can also be the sad Autumn after your
Spring
Love can actually make you whole
It also owns the power to break you all
In its hand lies the jurisdiction to
reformation
At its fingertips resides the sway to
deformation
Beware!The sea of love is a dangerous
one
Great and mighty are the tides to combat
You can either drown,or you can survive
The latter is almost impossible,not really
impossible
Clothe yourself with the wetsuit of patience
It keeps you going throughout the tides
Guard your heart with the lifejacket of
perseverance
It keeps it afloat not to drown in pain
The river is notorious
For filth and trash and slime,
With rumors of dead bodies floating
Once upon a time.
I’ve witnessed homeless people
Dumping urine (maybe worse)
Into water which you’d think
No normal person would immerse.
Yet yesterday I spotted both
A kayak and a boat
Which were following a swimmer
Stroking hard to stay afloat.
Baring skin as white as chalk
(No wetsuit acting as a shield),
She proceeded through the current,
Her emotions well-concealed.
For if she felt some revulsion
Or exuberance or fear
Maybe all her concentration
Helped to make them disappear.
As we watchers on the promenade
Did marvel in our masks
I reflected on how people are
So varied in their tasks.
Rip Tides
Dead serious this depression business rocky murky
with tides like a tsunami suggesting certain
drop zones
that kill
No swimming but drowning lead weights in my heart and no
wetsuit for balance and buoyancy no compass the currents are
dragging me
out and down
Inner pirates lure away from the shore and most of all
from my Self little devils like giants amplifying
what is there
and what is not
The lighthouse is dim and yet irritating a stroboscope racing
torched thoughts spin in endless loops and blinding flashes on
automatic pilot in
steady apathetic inertia
24th July 2018
If we have to see the fishes closer
and immerse ourselves under the surface of things
I put on the wetsuit
The diver's paraphernalia
And I let myself go to obscure distances
And think no more at the air, which usually
fill my lungs …
I am a ludion suspended in waters
Tickled by shoals of fish that roam
Caressed by jellyfishes, eager for a country ,
One above, which they are not allowed
As I am no longer allowed for sunlight
So low, beneath tons of moving liquid.
That is, across the border turbulent waves,
A reserved area, where the feeling of feet wouldn’t be enough
And that includes me, and swallows me
Like all the certainties of dry floor …
And cuttlefish lend me their naval ink
Writing for the memory of the abyss,
The silent vrombissemnt of orcas passing
The strange lanterns of monkfishes
And the maze of colorful corals and anemones
Dancing with the warm currents
Barely the memory of man
And an oblique wreck, portholes with crimped
Shells and rust, with its scale
Hanging on the railing of useless.
Had 6 she did. One at a time.
Worried about one…most of the time.
One had their own set of rules too.
Early on realized school was a bore.
Overnight a scouting uniform turned into a wetsuit.
It takes much longer to turn a wrench into a paintbrush.
Seems absconding normalcy is fun to do and watch.
A mother’s bewilderment turns to understanding.
Desert blown mystic mist,
tumbling sands of roving sun,
shadows tell your passing,
with dunes though never one.
The grain upon a lizard tail,
tale of reptile life,
brushed to killing hawk feathers,
gecko blood on beak like knife.
Soaring sand child seaward,
drop from thermal height,
roll among the mighty waves,
be part of ocean's might.
Stuck upon a surfer,
sliding clean into the blue,
ride a wetsuit hanging car,
shimmer in sunshine, I saw you.
Contemplation of the sands,
music of the travelled few,
captured second of the eye,
poetry's unravelled view.
©D.N.Read 2013
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