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Carolyn Fish Poem
When I was a girl, still on the island
I’d sit in the sand
and brood
and revel
in what I thought was utter enlightenment
a teenage rebel
with dime-store refinement
We were all this way, and there is no shame
In the unchecked mind of us in our prime
The best nights of those
When the sea was calm and
The moon was out and
Blazingly bright, it would light up the night
Set the whole ocean glowing
Like a deep inky opal
Translucent abyss of black
Lightly flecked
With an iridescent waltz of electric blue, neon purple, alien green, and diamond white
It was on these nights
That I’d get in the water
By some stunning feat of abrasive wave action
Or possibly some secret dolphin magic
A tide pool would arise
A lagoon off the shore
Drifting and shifting over the course
Of a week, maybe two
Drifting out, drifting in
Widening out, slimming in
Shallow enough to sit in at dawn
Submerged to my neck at the day’s final yawn
Defiant of the perpetuity of the ocean at large
A toy trench off the shore
Spanning the length of a whale
Sometimes less, sometimes more
My own nascent Marianas
Never failed to provide
An off-shore haven where I could reside
These transient channels, clear and serene
Cut off from the rest of the sea
By a vast steppe of water, ankle deep
Separating me in my watery kingdom
Where no monstrous creature of the deep could reach
Out and out that plain stretched
(Only once did I test it)
Till that clean sandy bottom would begin its descent
Slowly at first, then quickly it went
Down to the unknown dark
Into a child queen of a tiny sea world, I’d transform
Springing up from the bottom of pulverized quartz
To shatter the surface between the water and the night
Send millions upon millions of droplets of brine
Glittering and spinning off into the night
I’d leap out my trench, onto that shallow plain
Sprint out to the edge of my earth and breathlessly gaze
out over the hidden deep
Reminded I’m only a guest
The ocean is neither mine nor yours to keep
Having drunk my fill of humility
I’d spin round
Fly back
Dive back down
Into my fleeting empire, my sea of tranquility
My throne resumed, I’d splash and play
With the smile of the summer Milky Way
Shooting out of the ocean, slicing the southern sky
The universe itself keeping a loving and watchful eye
As the earth showed me exactly who she was
No pretense
I’d dig my fingers into the satiny sand
And feel its realness
Every cell of my skin feeling the water rush across
As I coasted, submerged, along the bottom and lost
Myself from the rest of mankind
Then I’d rest my head back on that broad sandy mesa
Gaze up at my friends Scorpius, Aquarius, and Cassieopiea
Small ripples of water lapping at my temples
Barring defense of Descartes’ deceiving God
Not a thing in all the world could ever make me doubt
That every sensation that I felt
in those days
Was a whisper from the cosmos telling me about
The ways to be and
The ways to see and
All the states of mind that reveal
What is good, and true, and right, and real
Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2017
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Carolyn Fish Poem
Weeks slip
Dreams flip
Again & again
It'll happen in ten
nine eight seven six
Good little workers pick up sticks
five four three two
Dear little baby, the next one is you
Eat your bread
Go to bed
The clock strikes ten
Again & again
We are free men
Just a' waitin' for when
that whistle gets blown
lettin' us go on home
Where we bow down our faces and give thanks at last
to our Savior, our Comrade, bless'd Iconoclast
Red little hen
You remember when
you told us we should know
that you reap what you sow
"We should have that bread too!"
We demanded of you
Yet you selfishly stood & reminded us that
Idle souls crave, while the earnest get fat
Old ways
By-gone days
We were bound by The Ten
Again & again
We are surely free now
Hen was old anyhow
Now we toil at will
In the field, in the mill
Done away with that moral delusion of old
We've evolved, we are free, we will not be controlled
Now rid from the rule of that fairy Godhead
Our new leader has graced us with Circus & Bread
Gladly we serve that new champion of ours
Who has sworn to deliver us straight to the stars
"1. Simply do as I say
2. And you mustn't to pray
3. And lay down your arms, you're now free from all harms
4. And pay me your dues
5. And allow me to choose, what's best from your head right down to your shoes
6. Give me your blood
7. And your sweat
8. And your tears, For only through I can you live out your years, hand in hand with your brother, your sister, your friend, In prosperity, lightness, and peace till the end
9. And promise to love me with all of your heart
10. Swear that, even in famine, we never shall part"
So we strap on our boots, march in line nice & straight
For our liberator, our darling, The State.
Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2016
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Carolyn Fish Poem
Gone now are the wondrous minds of old,
whose era treasured learning over gold,
And humble were the thoughts and words of these,
who, trothed to truth, would now be left displeased,
by hurried tempers bent on winning wars,
neglectful of th’ endurance truth implores,
Tis sober wit we prize? And passions tame?
For Vulcans we aspire to in name,
But Romulans we stoop to in our deed,
with raging passions, bleeding hearts to feed,
Drink DEEP of Pierian Spring, A. Pope once said,
so half-formed wits ferment not in the head,
For hurried sips inspire not a thing,
‘cept facile truths for the fell mob to sing,
And woe to we dissenters in the fray,
Whose searching hearts dare trek into the grey,
For black and white and left and right lead not our hearts astray,
We are deafened by the cries to match claims with sources cited,
These appeals betray the guise of those truly shallow sighted,
Take my hand resist the call to join the mass of the misguided,
Whose echo chambers are but intellectually blighted,
So,
My feet is my only carriage now,
down roads to ask what, where, when, why, and how,
Invention is reserved not for the child,
But into dotage should our hearts run wild,
and not be curbed by reigning moral creed,
which serves only to silence thoughts in need,
of courage to expose their patient truth,
through Politics’ foul need of moral proof,
Do not forget that truth is not subject,
to calls to be politically correct,
Instead follow your questions to their end,
That method Socrates would sure defend,
Go boldly into queries that are far too soon dismissed,
As the young Queen’s knight errant, down and wounded in the lists,
They who must, while Old King reigns, be reserved to moonlight trysts,
Till that Knight’s heroic rise, kindled by inherent grist,
set aflame with dauntless valor fueled by Queen’s enduring kiss,
Likewise,
Truth is often not so manifest,
And in its youth exiled and dispossessed,
It lies in wait for poor wise soul to sing,
that song forgot by old and foolish King,
Who, hoisted by the mob that did anoint,
that crowned façade of truth to score a point,
is now th’ unholy grail the mob has prized,
filled to the brim with half-truths dogmatized,
Seeking refuge from the axiom to let truth’s freedom ring,
Tis a sad truth that mobs have no better comfort than a King,
And as David thwarts the Philistine with humble stone and sling,
So can the meekest voice of truth still bold and loudly sing,
And reveal that foulest claw of power – factious suffering,
Is it much too late to come together now?
Our prosaic swords and shields to disavow,
To err is human, forgiving – divine,
While dogged animosity serves only to confine,
In a world in which we’re praised for parting human chaff from wheat,
And at a word, and with a click, a friendship we delete,
So quickly we are hypnotized by trending day’s drumbeat,
Our nihility reprieved as we go marching in the street,
Devoid of love, we thrive on self-regard,
to save our precious souls from being scarred,
But scarred by what? A truth that modifies,
a looking glass constructed out of lies,
Unbending we’re no more than barnyard beasts,
At beck and call to our elected priests,
Be not the beast that slowly plods along,
that somber path to slaughter, merely happy to belong,
So stop for just one precious moment and consider this,
Why the universe continues into infinite abyss,
With EACH point at the center of it all,
Equidistant from each universal wall,
And each celestial orb, it does appear,
in universal deference does don the lovely sphere,
Could it be those radiative points each to its own contain,
some first principle which issues polar points produced in twain,
Flying fast on rival vectors, ne’er to see his kin again,
On two journeys with same ends, just different means to ascertain,
But what those points should not forget – their centers stay the same,
And so it is that Nature’s taught us best,
Her favorite shape existing to attest,
that simplest of lessons we should learn,
Each point has its own truth that it would serve us to discern,
A funny thing does happen when we see,
past the mirage of space ‘tween you and me,
That Pierian Spring A. Pope warned us to take,
only the deepest draughts for our own sake,
does lift the veil of facile eminence,
and sober us to stand in awe t’ enlightened ignorance,
Revealing us for truly what we are,
Mere precious specks of living dust that dance about a star.
Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2016
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