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if Jūrmala
by Riga
she fettered
goat head
aim for
orient in
sea yesterday
she stank
like the
submarine there
with Latvia
as Über
recoiled their
way to
Dow Nation
with centipede
in lore
a middle of the road strategu
Death by Decoy Jul 2017
So I;

I move in the same pace as the river.
I flow along with it as I keep a shiver;
Ignoring all the rocks that come my way,
so never will I be in one place to stay.

Yet you;

You struggle against the fast moving water.
You flow against it with a sturdy little quiver;
Using the rocks as so to keep you at bay,
then breathe a sigh of contentment and stay.
Wordsinalign Apr 2017
She lies to the world that the five percent is all there is to sea,
but she wanted him to feel the depths deeper than there was to see.
She needed him to anchor and not let her slip like the sand through finger,
She needed a love that left an everlasting effect linger.

He stepped on the same grounds,
Looking for a love that saved him from his drown.
On the outside he was tough as steel,
Deep inside he could no longer feel.
He hummed songs from the spirited waves,
Drove deep into them to rescue her from coral caves.

He was the Persian Gulf and she was an Indian Ocean,
Yet they breathe salty summer air and gaze at the same clouds in motion.
She flew the skies, wondering if she lost him behind a floating cloud,
And went into places, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed.
Meeting him would be a miracle she thought,
Her chances were drying out faster than water during a drought.

There she stood at the Arabian Gulf in the warm sea breeze,
There was something about her that put his heart at ease.
Breathing the raw summer air,
Locked in his view paralysed by the depths she saw in his stare.

He lifted an empty shell and poured the ocean in,
His charms travel pore to pore and loving him felt like a sin.
Her eyes had storms that were painted in grey and silver,
Knowing she felt the dagger, his love would **** her.
at the end of the pier
no one is fishing

a couple from Jersey
leans out over the
rail looking down into
the brown swill
rolling under the
weathered boards

The wife remarked
“Belmar's water
is much nicer.”

on the Gulf’s edge
unhappy gulls convene,
plaintively gazing
over gray waves
ebbing at their feet

Brown Pelican crews
fly in long
ordered formations
incessantly circling
in widening rounds
seemingly reluctant to
plunge into the
endless depletion
of this aquatic
dead zone

I speak with a
Jefferson Parish employee
working a shovel
to regrade disturbed sand
boasting a consistency
of moist drying cement

“How did the Gulf oil spill
affect this place?” I ask

“It took evarding.” she said
With a slight Cajun accent,
“dig down a foot or two in da sand
you hit earl. It nevar goes away. Nevar.

“I live down bay side
near forty years.
Had’nt been in de water fer
twenty five.  The ******
******* took evarding.
They should go back
to Englund”

She went back to
tilling the sand.

Deepwater Horizon
yet festers a short
forty miles out to sea
is now covered by
an advancing storm
swelling in the Gulf

standing at the end
of the long pier
my hands  grasp the
sun bleached lumber
straining my eyes
peering into a
dark avalanche

the serenade
of bird songs
have been replaced
by the motorized drone
of tenders servicing
offshore rigs
sounding
a constant refrain
filling my ears
with a disquieting  
seaside symphony

the taste of
light sweet crude
dances on my tongue
the pungent sting
of disbursements
climbs into nostrils
rends my face
prickles my eyes

grandeur is a
conditional state
never permanent
forever temporary

Music Selection:
Cajun Music:
Hippy To-Yo

Grand Isle
2/20/17
jbm
Grand Isle, Cajun, Deepwater Horizon, ecological distress, Gulf of Mexico
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
My house is a hole

I hold a photograph
and cry for you

How can I live
alone?

My house is a hole

I climb in to search
and find fragments

I hold your hand
which seeps
Jaycee Aug 2015
Pink and said to be mean
Your tentacles tend to scare me
You're often alone, are you lonely?
Drymonema larsoni... don't worry
We can be friends, just don't sting me..

Native to the Mediterranean, Caribbean, and The Gulf of Mexico..
Searching for Moon Jellies and feasting once they're found
They wrap their tentacles around- them and drag them in
What a cruel fate? you may think that but we do the same thing.
PrttyBrd Apr 2015
Hues of blue and gray
With a succulent sweetness
That begs to be savored
In the briny waters off the sea
They lead a life unseen
Scavengers in warm water
A lazy afternoon
Wire mesh and day old fish
Chicken necks on a string
Baited traps dropped in left in wait
Edgewater shallows and a lot of time
One by one they come
Chasing that string to the shore
One by one they come
Pull up the trap and catch what you can
Fill the bucket with sweetness
There is nothing quite like
A blue crab Saturday afternoon
42515
the gulf widens
to reveal a scene
completely new to me

the gulf widens and
the earth splits and
the clouds drift and

so, we
must finally
part
Phoebe Seraphine Jan 2015
A violent lullaby. A whole sucker. Even then, quiet.
Water is sororal. Waves squeezing out water. Water, water is a mouth. In its precision, it is so practical, there is no use for tongues or banks of teeth, exact like sea urchins in the mud.

Static. There, precisely that noise. Not at all a tick. Hear it tucked in the tide. Observe its shape, observe what it does to you.

Feel it all at the beach. Feel it in your sleep.

A slight brine, a wet resonance, trinkets of sand under callouses.

Still, aqueous static. The water is a python, a monster puzzle, a heavy choking, an oily fruit. Florida sinks beneath the waves.
K Balachandran May 2014
A gulf of emotions lies deep
between him and her right now,
she stands unmoved for long
on her island of grief.

He stands on the firm land
just an earshot away
waving  frantically at her,
as if everything is alright.
She just struts towards him
a bit, her face still inscrutable,
as if she has completely forgotten
her role on the play she is in.

Now, in a boat he goes around the island
and urge her to take a plunge;
is she afraid to jump and swim in the cold water
or she likes it there alone,
though cut off, from mainland,
comfortable in that island?

The jazz band playing in the background
sensed the change , stunned, has fallen mute.

— The End —