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Lead K Feb 9
Whose seal is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I murmur: "Hello."

She gives her seal a shake,
And sobs until the tears quake.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The seal is living, weird and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
And until then she shall not sleep.
She hides in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from that bitter bed,
With dreams of sadness in her head.
She idolizes being dead.
To seal-less pain forever wed.
Seal Rock, San Francisco, California, United States of America, Earth, Sol System, Milky Way, Clarence The Turtle
Sakura Oct 2020
When we first met
When i looked into your eyes
Your eyes...
Your bright blue eyes...
They were like ocean
I felt so mesmerized when i saw my reflection in your eyes
It felt like i was floating in the Pacific Ocean
I keep imagining...
About your blue eyes...
Your eyes deeper than Pacific Ocean
When our eyes first met
It felt like the waves of the ocean touching the shore
Your smile was like the cool breeze over the ocean
Someday i wanna meet you like the Baltic sea and the north sea meet in the gulf of the Alaska
I wanna stare into your bright blue eyes all day long
Your eyes...
Your bright blue eyes...
I can see the whole sky in your eyes
I can see the stars , the moon , and the sun reflecting into your eyes
The bright blue eyes.
Robert C Howard Aug 2020
Sea stars, urchins and anemones
     ride the tidal waters at Rialto Beach
           swirling into shallow pools -
      clad in shades of blue, emerald and violet.

Gnarls of ancient driftwood line the beach
     up to the rainforest’s edge just beyond the rise.
           Pulsing waves dash and roar against the sea stacks
       where the Pacific adjoins the California shore.

Legions of seagulls circle above
       piercing the misted air with their cries
           and the tide, beckoned by the Sky Queen,
       begins to ebb and regain the open sea.

As the sun sinks into the western sky –
       the towers of Split Rock and Hole in the Wall
            are silhouetted against the horizon
       pasteled in gold, orange and burgundy hues.

Gray whales and dolphins breach the surface
       before plunging into the sacred depths
           where the ocean beats pulse on and on -
sounding resonant cadences
       through timeless hallows of infinity.
Jordan Soriano Jan 2020
the land before history began
land that was not ruled by a man
land that raised me
land with more beauty I had ever seen
a land filled with spirits in trees beautiful and green
land that was untouched
land prosperous and lush
land that I fled to when I was scared
land that helped me with the struggles I bared
land filled with artifacts
land with hidden, ancient tracks
land that I  called my own
land that was my home

the man with a cross in hand
set fires to the land
he spoke in a different tongue
and tried to teach it to our young
my people gave him food and water
he only gave us an alter
he told us we were sinners
made us kneel with interlocked fingers
I saw the flags in the distance
I cried in an instance
more of his men were coming
I knew we had to start running
Maga'håga is a female leader of a tribe, she is the one who is respected among Chiefs. This is an homage to the Maga'håga who did all she could to protect her land, people, and culture.
Blurry Vision Jan 2020
Vividly pale sunsets,
Houses lined up in a row,
The wind howls on the beach,
The pacific northwest,
My home,
The tide rising and lowering,
The smell of a campfire that once burned so bright,
Smoke still in the air,

Pastel sunrises that I'll never forget.
I miss this.
Rachael Anderson Dec 2019
Cotton candy swirl of sky
In deep waters meets
A force of power enough to destroy
The strong among the weak.
“Pacific” they do call she-
Beauty and peace men’s hearts adore.
These men, the same whose head and feet
Be led asunder by her roar.
Sharon Talbot Nov 2019
There is a bay on the Oregon coast,
Shaped like a scallop shell
And ringed by rounded stones.
And from the darkening sky
Droop billows of blue and gray
Hanging and lit like Chinese lanterns.
Humans in the damp Northwest
Appear to drip from the clouds
In rain-washed colors
Of blue and violet,
Whose tattered clothes
Are softened and soaked
From ragged wool into rich satin.
Still others bask on shores
Of pebbles rolled by the sea,
Bone white and cloud-gray.
Down and up, down again
The light rays vault,
Painting bipeds into the land.
There are no reflections
But rather water in the air,
Looking like rain
Even on cloudless days.
Their world is saturated
Like the scarlet gowns
Of Waterhouse’s Ariadne
And the ponds of Monet,
Green as the British Isles,
Blue as the Aegean
And white as the Pantheon ruins .
Much like an ancient tomb,
The majesty of mortal lives
Commemorated in stone
Is here splashed in the air
And in every forest or cliff.
Hushing people into silence,
So they conduct the most
Serious customs in whispers,
Knowing how voices echo along
Water droplets
And mountain shadows.
Tsunami Sep 2019
The creak of a door,
A sliver of light
Slips and illuminates the evergreen tops.

A sigh of relief echoes between our two walls.
I hear the flick of a lighter.
An orange glow appears.
Floating about an arms length away from a dark shadow mostly hidden
behind the evergreens i always complain of.

We end up mimicking each others actions
Swimmers in a line,
Diving in at the same time.
Synchronizing the timing of raising
our separate cigarettes to
our separate lips,

It’s a small solace,
Two strangers, simultaneously trying to **** themselves just a bit quicker
The only form of intimacy we know at this point in life.

Ash, take a drag, ash, take a drag
Rinse and repeat
The wash cycle is almost over
We puff away together
Until one of us tires or hits the ****.

I once again, hear;
The creak of a door,
A sliver of light illuminates the tight knit needles.
I hear a gentle slam,
In his own way, a goodnight
we have an intimacy no one can mimic
mjad Apr 2019
just as Notre Dame catches fire
does the turtle's situation become dire
as it struggles to get air
because of another plastic snare
one of millions that float aimlessly
Notre Dame will be rebuilt urgently
over one billion dollars raised in days,

but who really needs to be saved?
The amount of money raised for Notre Dame to be rebuilt would be enough to clean the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Just saying.
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