Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Chimera melons Mar 2010
Huddled flocks pecking around
seasick seasick seasick
Stor-it-all ransacked for tax reforms
jupiter pinetrees form less pyramids a month plus shipping
Monoatomic white gold texas teatree oil of bullfight storefronts
coronas eject breast milk of magnessium sulphate under the table
dealers lower deck slips tips into his cup o soup for 99 cents
landsick landsick rot cod rot cod
dot dash doctor ankh eyes windup toys half price
sentences complete fusion conagra foods lose stock market value
Judgement night of the living end time shared ethical treatments
and other plastic surgeries
hydra lost all the fifties movie stars heads and robots grew back so quickly to take their places everyone pay it forward
ships mast ripping into the ocean spray on tans
compass spun bankrupt Say Jack E onasis
chaste chasis mer ka bah light bringer fire eater
danse macabre four pillars swatch at Sacs on fifth avenue
avec mon couer le chat screams cheshire teeth porcupine all over my new
dress shirt,  that stain is not going to come out
and playground beef factory farmed like high school mindgames
seasick seasick see it see
i see

She really was real in reality where I was too real in your past


It past us by with no pillowfights , mutual loss of trustfunds
we never had
, purposefully failed attempts to make little beastly humans grow in her stomach and burst out like aliens happen in her car on long trips.

lost art of making art artfully with out chiclet teeth blank eyes and jumping breaking stuffand hitchhiker guy twisting wills
by throwing green boxes into the dark on bike trails

or inviting things to watch ***** fountains ,
endlessly cutting out pictures
, orange ice cream menthol cigarettes and choco pyramids ,
fake friends find you when you run away from yourself
so don't play hide and go seek or you might be gone forever until the devil finds you and takes you to jailbird

jacobs ladder rung 9  times and I answered my phone
"Hello ?"  
It was the silence of God on the line.
The cosmic vibration of pure being.
I didn't listen for long enough and ran out of minutes.
All right copyrighted in glorious technicolor
Darbi Alise Howe Nov 2012
once again, I am seasick
over the railing (but never into the wind)
twisting and heaving
all because you were leaving, away away
back to the land and light of day
which i have none of, only one of
forever is lonely
like the line that separates the ocean and sky
here I am
seasick, once again
Frank DeRose Mar 2016
I am seasick.
Though I am not sick of the sea,
Or sick because of the sea.
Rather,
I am sick for the sea.

I long for the waves
And their crashing melodies.
I long for the sun
And its ultraviolet ways
Which warm and darken my skin.
I long for the air,
Salty and thick with moisture.

I long for the sea.
The sea that is within you, within me.

I wish I could see
The steady beat of waves in the hidden enclaves of the ribcage
Deep inside.
I long for the warmth of your rays
Which warm and strengthen my heart.
I long for your breath
Hot and sweet on my lips.

I am sick with love for the sea.

I am lovesick.

I am seasick.
Àŧùl Apr 2017
^_^
Angel?
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Called The Girl Out Without Knowing Her Name,
"Hey Young Lady!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I Thought I Saw Despair In Her Amber Eyes & Must Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Called My Captain & Asked, "Do You See A Girl In That Raft?"
The Captain Just Replied Kindly, "Commodore, Get Married,"
I Looked Apprehensive And He Just Said, "There's No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Enter My Room Down The Stairs Amazed & Confused,
She Floated There As She Waited By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of Hers And Start To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.

7 Paragraphs of a Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream


Angel Again?

Now I reached the lands again,
Still dazzled and confused I was,
From the encounter with that Angel,
Oh, how she had filled my twilight,
Unable to forget her divinely touch.

Magical touch had enchanted me,
Able to recall it from the voyage,
I stumbled when disembarking,
Oh, it was the first time for me,
My thoughts would last along.

After so many days at the sea,
I planned of bathing properly,
Her illusion tricked me thereto,
Oh how her traces remained on,
Facing mirror, I stood perplexed.

Still unable to accept the reality,
I longed for that night to repeat,
My heart beats Angel in each beat,
Life staged a drama too crazy,
Unwilling to accept the reality.

My body carries the vestiges,
I turn crazier with each bath,
Her lips' traces keep appearing,
Driving me mad is her memory,
God! Bring her to life once more.

I had my powers as a commodore,
I sent for the captain of my ship,
"What bothers you, my commodore,"
And so he asked of me kindly,
Then I told him of her traces.

Smiling he told me yet again,
"I had told you to get married,"
I agreed this time and nodded,
"Alright, search for me a bride,"
Going outside, he smiled plainly.


Angel Surely?

Till Few Months Of Reaching Back,
I Kept Seeing Her Images All Over,
It Drove Me Crazy Her Presence...

Taking Time Out To Search Her Out,
I Went For The Mountainous Path,
It May Cease I Hope These Dreams.

The Horse Made Me Look A Knight,
I Set Out Solo For The Dark Creeks,
It Helped Me Realize My Solo Aim...

Then She Came Into My View Again,
I Prepared For Tackling My Illusion,
It Started Snowing Out Of Nowhere.

Took Me To A Safer Place She Then,
I Was Bewildered Again Once More,
It Was Clearing But She Vanished...

Then On My Way, I Stopped To Rest,
I Looked Around For A Place To Sit,
It Came To My View A Huge Tavern.

Tavern On A Mountain Was Weird,
I Still Went To It Hoping Some Rest,
It Had Appeared Out Of Nowhere...


Angel Illusion?

I Peered Out Of The Room Windows,
I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse,
It Was A Comfortable Rest House,
And Here I Was In Anticipation,
Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited,
Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too,
Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion?

Was All That Really Just An Illusion,
Thinking This I Prepared For Bed,
Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing,
Looked Into Sound's Direction,
All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night,
My Own Reflection Was Also Visible,
Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen.

I Recalled The First Night At The Sea,
She Did Appear On The Towed Raft,
A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen,
Now I Did Remember It Clearly,
My Face Was No Longer Mine,
Yes It Was The Beautiful face of hers,
She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember.

She Was Smiling So Very Divinely,
Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely,
More Divine Felt She Was Really,
I Thought That It Was So Early,
My Pocket Watch Showed Three,
I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed,
Then & There She Was Lying For Me.

I Again Let My Mind Play Games,
Never Did Imagine Turning Mad,
Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad,
Neither I Wanted To Break It,
Nor It Felt Like One Anymore,
This Was The Dream I Loved To Live,
As If The Boon Was Presented To Me.

She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed,
I Asked Her, "Are You Real?"
"Yes, Just As Your Thoughts,"
I Then Just Stared At Her Lips,
She Then Touched Me Again,
Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea,
I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch.

I Blankly Smiled And Thought,
'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,'
Then I Just Let Her Guide Me,
The Moon Shone So Bright,
It Just Felt Really So Very Right,
Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win,
It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.


Angel Not Again!!!

I recovered from the night again,
She had disappeared once more,
Was she using me as a ******???

I was frustrated & also saddened,
My self-control got strengthened,
For I was not a tissue to be used!!!

I have my feelings & my emotions,
Presence and absence torture me,
Ego I had tamed got hurt by now...

I won't let that elusive Angel come,
Questioning I must be her realities,
Illusions will end this time finally!!!

I'll establish an identity of my own,
Dependent I'll not be on the angel,
Was she only a dream & no more???

I had duly asked the aged captain,
To search for a lovely bride very soon,
Oh, so sure I am about afterwards...

I was tailed by the spirit-like angel,
So irritated by her dreary dreams,
On-off, came-gone, again & again!!!

I now would learn to catch angels,
With the plan, I went to the mage,
Should I now learn some spells???

I entered through a dark alleyway,
Was told to visit this strange place,
What comes across - I wondered...

I knocked on the door & she appeared,
Very young she seemed to me now,
Just the age of the angel of dreams!!!

I noticed that she wore a long robe,
So shiny it was silvery like her hair,
Just like the angel of dreams wore...

I rubbed my tired eyes in disbelief,
"Who're you?" I asked very loudly,
"Are you the mage's daughter???"

I wondered for long & she replied,
"Your guess is correct, kind Sailor,"
She beckoned me into the shack...

I set my foot on the wooden floor,
I looked for any sign of the mage,
I want to be set free of the cage!!!

I just thought & thought about it,
But the witch was not to be seen,
Curious I asked, "Where is she???"

"I am my mother," she said calmly,
Perplexed I couldn't say a thing,
My mouth opened once & shut...

I was now about to rise & go away,
But she stopped me with her arms,
"I must show you," so she did say!!!

I did not believe what my eyes saw,
How she changed into the old mage,
Then back into her own daughter???

O I had become confused a lot now,
Why would she transform like this,
I feared if it was actually the angel...


Angel Forever?

Seeing me anxious more than a lot,
The old witch relented a little,
She let me breathe freely,
Back transformed into her daughter,
She touched my forehead,
Then I realized it was sweaty,
Seeing her lovely care I smiled a bit.

So she now lit up a fragrant incense,
The incense seemed so soothing,
She then edged closer to me,
Transcendental wings were visible,
She came even closer to me,
Then the wings simply vanished,
So traceless as if never been there.

It must have been another illusion,
The very day I had set sail to sea,
It was probably carrying over,
Troubling me each non and then,
In my wild dreams, I had seen,
True she could not be & was not,
In my life, the torment was written.

Soon I was pleading to her teary-eyed,
"Please don't torment me, it hurts!"
She looked at me with affection,
And said, "But I truly love you, sailor,"
She advanced forwards further,
"Have you forgotten all those nights?
Did you even forget the night at sea?"

I first remembered that night at sea,
The night back at home came next,
I had been seduced by her magic,
This was the real picture every time,
I was weak but I still felt warmer,
The night ship feels like yesterday,
I was in confusion about what to do.

Her face was transitioning rapidly,
The old mother to her daughter,
Her daughter to that very angel,
And back to the old mother witch,
Her smile turned into laughter,
The witch laughing at my cries,
Her face here was contorted a lot.

She seemed to be struggling a lot,
As though fight ensued within,
Soon I figured it out by myself,
First I must **** the witch to help,
So I looked around & grabbed,
The axe that I did spot lying there,
Spot on I killed the witch right then.


Angel Ultimately?
The saga in her eyes converts into a constant downpour soon after she realized her freedom from the spell of the dark witch, the curse had turned her a prisoner in the evil witch's body.

"Kind sailor thank thee for freeing me."
Her words reverberating throughout,
What wind - what land - what sea,
Everywhere is her presence as I can see,
The wind whispers her name in my ear,
Since a long long time now all I wear,
Is her scent in my immortalized memory.

"Will you stay with me forever, or,
Will you go back to the heavens?"
Though I really wanted her to stay,
I love her and realize what she felt,
I offered her freedom and a choice,
I was not binding her to me in turn,
Everything was instinctive for me.

She seemed in a serious dilemma,
Struggling hard she was in herself,
I again offered & insisted this time,
"It's better you went back to your world,"
But I knew that she loved me a lot,
She tried hard controlling but said,
"I am in love with you for long."

So I am quite right that she loves me,
I am sure even she can forget me not,
Beading all our memories together,
I now know how I can gain salvation,
Not being another self-centric tantric,
"But you don't belong here dear,
So you shouldn't restrict yourself."

After this, she now looks comfortable & composed,
Ready for making a choice she wore a heart of stone,
Her lips slowly parted revealing a perfect smile,
Pearly smile again ensured me of permanent happiness,
Bright eyes and shiny eyelids of hers seemed so good,
"You can't make me stay away because you love me too,
I will keep coming in your dreams and entice your nights."

But I wanted her in my real-world now,
I prevented her from vanishing again,
I said, "Please stay, now do not go away,
Because I really can not bear that pain,"
She had almost vanished by then,
Listening to my words she chose to wait,
She said, "Even I want forever to stay."

Continuing with her divine dialogue she said,
"Say those golden words to make me stay,"
I immediately confessed, "I love you, Angel,"
"Say you love me too, oh my divine Angel,"
She didn't wait for anything more to say it,
"I love you too, oh my kind & loving sailor,"
Her powers soon left her in a flash of light.
On public demand, I clubbed The "Angel?" Series into one poem.
Àŧùl Nov 2016
I used to be a great sailor,
But then I was sea sick,
So I just got retired,
Scared I am of all the ships,
Especially of relationships,
I don't want to **** myself sweetly,
So scared.
HP Poem #1267
©Atul Kaushal
Styles Dec 2014
The times here, mind clear
removed fear, mind fully-aware
they can’t calculate my circumference
they try-angle-hate to encompass
i’m too persistent
consistently consistent
my philosophy brilliant
they’re mindfully malignant
plots thicken and spots pigment
perfect gentlemen, acting indecent
handed them knowledge, didn't keep it
then peep game, telling secrets
I’m sure they’re getting seasick
its been written, still going off the top
the deep-end, the stuck on the plot
Timothy Kenda Sep 2013
He was swept out to sea and lost to the treacherous waves
His head broke water once or twice but he couldn't be saved
God did smite him to spite him for all  the love that he gave
And he looked up to heaven and he forgave
As he washed away there was no earthly thing that he craved
For what good does it do to curse
When disaster strikes you while you're at your worst
And you are stuck wishing the waves had taken you first
And dragged you out forever to sea
He found himself unable to break through the current, so he ceased to be
His forlorn lover waited like a stone upon the beach
To catch just a glimpse of the man she could no longer see
A man who had taught her what it was to be free
Now is it fair that he had to go?
Is it right that nobody knows
Where his soul went after his body went down below
Dragged out into eternity by the undertow
So she sits and waits for his return
Though it was long ago that his fate was learned
Because still her body yearned
For his seasick touch, caring and concerned
Then one day she finally broke down
As the waves receded and there in the sound
She found his body drowned
And his soul was no where in sight
The whole time he had watched her on that beach
Forever waiting and wanting but out of reach
"I'll be here waiting forever" he silently screamed
Just waiting for her to cease to be
And as she walked out in the waves
She looked to the sky to not be saved
And at that point she was filled with dismay
She didn't know if she'd find him there
At the end the air burst from her lungs
The ******* sound of the sea made her undone
And they were reunited as one
Two souls lost forever at sea
There was such beauty in her death
Her fearless attempt to reach across the stretch
of desolate darkness past the confines of the flesh
Just to find that she would be with her lover yet
Under the waves forever
Thomas EG Aug 2015
Your ocean's waves wash confusion up onto my shore. I lap you up eagerly, without hesitation, but quickly become seasick.

The lust for an aid to quench my thirst has led me to such disparity. Who would've thought that I'd be poisoned by one of my own kind?

A swarm of emotions comes buzzing towards me and I have no clue how to feel. Is this even real? I find hallucination to be one of the finest forms of hope. It is the true personification of mind games.

Saltwater, saltwater, steer clear of me... I am quite damaged, but plan on soon mending. Stranded and alone, you would've thought that I'd be elsewhere by now.

Well, the truth is, that I have nowhere else to go... No one else to go to... So, I sit here and remain one with this confusion.

It is the most loyal company that I've had the fortune of owning, in all my years of experience, my tears of impatience, my fears of temptations...

I'm doing well! I still exist, at least. Perhaps I will have a different outlook next year, but for now, my survival is going according to plan.

I must remember to thank you for that, for it was you who led me here in the first place... It was you who taught me how to swim... And it was you who kept me afloat.
I wrote this over a month ago, but I just edited it, so here's the newly edited version. I hope you like it.
starless Jul 2014
My lungs are weighed down
by the ocean that never ceases.
An icy winter sea
wraps its bony hands
around my throat:

hands rather like yours.

Which I longed to hold?
I must be seasick.
Lee Jan 2013
S
Serendipitous
Sirens
******
Seasick
Sailors to
Satiate
Sickly
Sensual
Seconds
Stalked full of
Sexually
Stimulating
Sentences
Second only to
*** itself;
Sad for
Seasick
Scurvy
Sailors
Syphilis will
Soon
Succeed
Sanity.
Jed Nov 2012
I'm homesick for warm sunshine
here come the spins
and the feeling of a face going pale
tired of staying in

I'm seasick for warm sunshine
don't rock the boat
there is a chance that I'll go overboard
cold without a coat

I'm homesick for warm sunshine
Seen the sea,
swore the snow to flee
and saw what it has done to me
Àŧùl Jan 2020
XOXOXOX
Angel?
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.

I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Doesn't Much Respond,
She Looks Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I Spot Desperation In Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.

The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Captain Now Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look So Clueless To Which He Simply Replied, "There Is No Girl."

True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.

Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.

As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."

She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
7 Stanzas of a Beautiful Open-Eyed Dream
My HP Poem #19
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Again?
Now I Reached The Lands Again,
Still Dazzled And Confused I Was,
Oh How She Had Filled My Twilight,
Unable To Forget Her Divinely Touch.

Magical Touch Had Enchanted Me,
Able To Recall It From The Voyage,
I Stumbled When Disembarking,
Oh - It Was The First Time For Me,
My Thoughts Would Last Along.

After So Many Days At The Sea,
I Planned Of Bathing Properly,
Her Illusion Tricked Me Thereto,
Oh - How Her Traces Remained On,
Facing The Mirror, I Stood Perplexed.

Still Unable To Accept The Reality,
I Longed For That Night To Repeat,
My Heart Beats Angel In Each Beat,
Life Staged A Drama Too Crazy,
Unwilling To Accept The Reality.

My Body Carries The Vestiges,
I Turn Crazier With Each Bath,
Her Lips' Traces Keep Appearing,
Driving Me Mad Is Her Memory,
God! Bring Her To Life Once More.

I Had My Powers As A Commodore,
I Sent For The Captain Of My Ship,
"What Bothers You, My Commodore,"
And So He Asked Of Me Kindly,
Then I Told Him About Her Traces.

Smiling He Told Me Yet Again,
"I Had Told You To Get Married,"
I Agreed This Time And Nodded,
"Alright, Search For Me A Bride,"
Going Outside, He Smiled Plainly.
My HP Poem #766
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Surely?
Till Few Months Of Reaching Back,
I Kept Seeing Her Images All Over,
It Drove Me Crazy, Her Presence...

Taking Time Out To Search Her Out,
I Went For The Mountainous Path,
It May Cease I Hope These Dreams.

The Horse Made Me Look A Knight,
I Set Out Solo For The Dark Creeks,
It Helped Me Realize My Solo Aim...

Then She Came Into My View Again,
I Was Prepared For Tackling My Illusion,
It Started Snowing Out Of Nowhere.

Took Me To A Safer Place She Then,
I Was Bewildered Again Once More,
It Was Clearing But She Vanished...

Then On My Way I Stopped To Rest,
I Looked Around For A Place To Sit,
It Came To My View A Huge Tavern.

Tavern On A Mountain Was Weird,
I Still Went To It Hoping Some Rest,
It Had Appeared Out Of Nowhere...
My HP Poem #839
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Illusion?
I Peered Out Of The Room Windows,
I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse,
It Was A Comfortable Rest House,
And Here I Was In Anticipation,
Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited,
Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too,
Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion?

Was All That Really Just An Illusion,
Thinking This I Prepared For Bed,
Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing,
Looked Into Sound's Direction,
All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night,
My Own Reflection Was Also Visible,
Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen.

I Recalled The First Night At The Sea,
She Did Appear On The Towed Raft,
A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen,
Now I Did Remember It Clearly,
My Face Was No Longer Mine,
Yes It Was The Beautiful face of hers,
She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember.

She Was Smiling So Very Divinely,
Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely,
More Divine Felt She Was Really,
I Thought That It Was So Early,
My Pocket Watch Showed Three,
I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed,
Then & There She Was Lying For Me.

I Again Let My Mind Play Games,
Never Did Imagine Turning Mad,
Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad,
Neither I Wanted To Break It,
Nor It Felt Like One Anymore,
This Was The Dream I Loved To Live,
As If The Boon Was Presented To Me.

She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed,
I Asked Her, "Are You Real?"
"Yes, Just As Your Thoughts,"
I Then Stared At Her Lips,
She Then Touched Me Again,
Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea,
I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch.

I Blankly Smiled And Thought,
'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,'
Then I Just Let Her Guide Me,
The Moon Shone So Bright,
It Just Felt Really So Very Right,
Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win,
It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.
My HP Poem #848
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Not Again!!!
I Recovered From The Night Again,
She Had Disappeared Once More,
Was She Using Me As A ******???

I Was Frustrated & Also Saddened,
My Self-Control Got Strengthened,
For I Was Not A Tissue To Be Used!!!

I Have My Feelings & My Emotions,
Presence And Absence Torture Me,
Ego I Had Tamed Got Hurt By Now...

I Won't Let That Elusive Angel Come,
Questioning I Must Be Her Realities,
Illusions Will End This Time Finally!!!

I'll Establish An Identity Of My Own,
Dependent I'll Not Be On The Angel,
Was She Just A Dream & No More???

I Had Duly Asked The Aged Captain,
To Search For Me A Lovely Bride Soon,
Oh, So Sure I Am About Afterwards...

I Was Tailed By The Spirit-Like Angel,
So Irritated By Her Dreary Dreams,
On-Off, Came-Gone, Again & Again!!!

I Now Would Learn Catching Angels,
With The Plan, I Went To The Mage,
Should I Now Learn Some Spells???

I Entered Through A Dark Alleyway,
Was Told To Visit This Strange Place,
What Comes Across - I Wondered...

I Knocked The Door & She Seemed,
Very Young She Seemed To Me Now,
Just The Age Of The Angel Of Dreams!!!

I Noticed That She Wore A Long Robe,
So Shiny It Was Silvery Like Her Hair,
Just Like The Angel Of Dreams Wore...

I Rubbed My Tired Eyes In Disbelief,
"Who're You?" I Asked Very Loudly,
"Are You The Mage's Daughter???"

I Wondered For Long & She Replied,
"Your Guess Is Correct, Kind Sailor,"
She Beckoned Me Into The Shack...

I Set My Foot On The Wooden Floor,
I Looked For Any Sign Of The Mage,
I Want To Be Set Free Of The Cage!!!

I Just Thought & Thought About It,
But The Witch Was Not To Be Seen,
Curious I Asked, "Where Is She???"

"I Am My Mother," She Said Calmly,
Perplexed I Couldn't Say A Thing,
My Mouth Opened Once & Shut...

I Was Now About To Rise & Go Away,
But She Stopped Me With Her Arms,
"I Must Show You," So She Did Say!!!

I Believed Not What My Eyes Saw,
How She Changed Into The Old Mage,
Then Back Into Her Own Daughter???

O I Had Become Confused A Lot Now,
Why Would She Transform Like This,
I Feared If It Was Actually The Angel...
My HP Poem #850
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Forever?
Seeing Me Anxious More Than A Lot,
The Old Witch Relented A Little,
She Let Me Breathe Freely,
Back Transformed Into Her Daughter,
She Touched My Forehead,
Then I Realized It Was Sweaty,
Seeing Her Lovely Care I Smiled A Bit.

So She Now Lit Up A Fragrant Incense,
The Incense Seemed So Soothing,
She Then Edged Closer To Me,
Transcendental Wings Were Visible,
She Came Even Closer To Me,
Then The Wings Simply Vanished,
So Traceless As If Never Been There.

It Must Be Yet Another Illusion,
The Very Day I Set Sail To Sea,
It Was Probably Carrying Over,
Troubling Me Each Non & Then,
In My Wild Dreams, I Had Seen,
True She Could Not Be & Was Not,
In My Life, The Torment Was Written.

Soon I Was Pleading To Her, Teary-Eyed,
"Please Don't Torment Me, It Hurts!"
She Looked At Me With Affection,
And said, "But I truly love you, sailor,"
She advanced forwards further,
"Have you forgotten all those nights?
Did you even forget the night at sea?"


I First Remembered That Night At Sea,
The Night Back At Home Came Next,
I Had Been Seduced By Her Magic,
This Was The Real Picture Every Time,
I Was Weak But I Still Felt Warmer,
The Night Ship Feels Like Yesterday,
I Was In Confusion About What To Do.

Her Face Was Transitioning Rapidly,
The Old Mother To Her Daughter,
Her Daughter To That Very Angel,
And Back To The Old Mother Witch,
Her Smile Turned Into Laughter,
The Witch Laughing At My Cries,
Her Face Here Contorted A Lot.

She Seemed To Struggle A Lot,
As Though A Fight Ensued Within,
Soon I Figured It Out By Myself,
That I Must **** The Witch To Help,
So I Looked Around & Grabbed,
An Axe That I Spotted Lying There,
Spot on I killed the witch right then.
My HP Poem #859
©Atul Kaushal

Angel Ultimately?
The saga in her eyes converts into a constant downpour soon after she realizes her freedom from the spell of the dark witch, the curse had turned her a prisoner in the evil witch's body.

"Kind Sailor Thank Thee For Freeing Me."
Her Words Reverberate Throughout,
What Wind - What Land - What Sea,
Everywhere Is Her Presence As I See,
The Wind Whispers Her Name In My Ear,
Since A Long-Long Time Now All I Wear,
Her Scent Is Immortalized In My Memory.

"Will You Stay With Me Forever, Or,
Will You Go Back To The Heavens?"

Though I really wanted her to stay,
I Love Her & Realize What She Felt,
I Offered Her Freedom & A Choice,
I Was Not Binding Her To Me In Turn,
Everything Was Instinctive For Me.

She Seemed In A Serious Dilemma,
Struggling Hard She Was In Herself,
I Again Offered & Insisted This Time,
"It's Better To Go Back To Your World,"
But I Knew That She Loved Me Too,
She Tried Hard Controlling But Said,
"I Am In Love With You Since Long."

So I Am Quite Right That She Loves Me,
I Am Sure Even She Can Forget Me Not,
Beading All Our Memories Together,
I Now Know How I Can Gain Salvation,
Not Being Another Self-Centric Tantric,
"But You Don't Belong Here, Dear Angel,
You Shouldn't Torture Yourself For A Mortal."


After This, She Now Looks Comfortable & Composed,
Ready For Making A Choice She Wore A Heart Of Stone,
Her Lips Slowly Parted Revealing A Perfect Smile,
Pearly Smile Again Ensured Me Of Permanent Happiness,
Bright Eyes & Shiny Eyelids Of Hers Seemed So Good,
"You Can't Make Me Stay Away Because You Love Me Too,
I'll Keep Coming To Your Dreams & Entice Your Nights."


But I Wanted Her In My Real World Now,
I Prevented Her From Vanishing Again,
I Said, "Please Stay, Now Do Not Go Away,
Because I Really Can Not Bear The Pain,"

She Had Almost Vanished By Now,
Listening To My Words She Chose To Wait,
She Said, "Even I Want Forever To Stay."

Continuing With Her Divine Dialogue She Said,
"Say Those Golden Words To Make Me Stay,"
I Immediately Confessed, "I Love You, Angel,"
"Say You Love Me Too, Oh My Divine Angel,"
She Didn't Wait For Anything More To Say It,
"I Love You Too, Oh My Kind & Loving Sailor,"
Her Powers Soon Left Her In A Flash Of Light.
My HP Poem #860
©Atul Kaushal
I was suggested to put together all these related poems by my friends, readers and mentors.
My HP Poem #1822
©Atul Kaushal

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-saga/
1.

I am thirty this November.
You are still small, in your fourth year.
We stand watching the yellow leaves go queer,
flapping in the winter rain.
falling flat and washed. And I remember
mostly the three autumns you did not live here.
They said I'd never get you back again.
I tell you what you'll never really know:
all the medical hypothesis
that explained my brain will never be as true as these
struck leaves letting go.

I, who chose two times
to **** myself, had said your nickname
the mewling mouths when you first came;
until a fever rattled
in your throat and I moved like a pantomine
above your head. Ugly angels spoke to me. The blame,
I heard them say, was mine. They tattled
like green witches in my head, letting doom
leak like a broken faucet;
as if doom had flooded my belly and filled your bassinet,
an old debt I must assume.

Death was simpler than I'd thought.
The day life made you well and whole
I let the witches take away my guilty soul.
I pretended I was dead
until the white men pumped the poison out,
putting me armless and washed through the rigamarole
of talking boxes and the electric bed.
I laughed to see the private iron in that hotel.
Today the yellow leaves
go queer. You ask me where they go I say today believed
in itself, or else it fell.

Today, my small child, Joyce,
love your self's self where it lives.
There is no special God to refer to; or if there is,
why did I let you grow
in another place. You did not know my voice
when I came back to call. All the superlatives
of tomorrow's white tree and mistletoe
will not help you know the holidays you had to miss.
The time I did not love
myself, I visited your shoveled walks; you held my glove.
There was new snow after this.

2.

They sent me letters with news
of you and I made moccasins that I would never use.
When I grew well enough to tolerate
myself, I lived with my mother, the witches said.
But I didn't leave. I had my portrait
done instead.

Part way back from Bedlam
I came to my mother's house in Gloucester,
Massachusetts. And this is how I came
to catch at her; and this is how I lost her.
I cannot forgive your suicide, my mother said.
And she never could. She had my portrait
done instead.

I lived like an angry guest,
like a partly mended thing, an outgrown child.
I remember my mother did her best.
She took me to Boston and had my hair restyled.
Your smile is like your mother's, the artist said.
I didn't seem to care. I had my portrait
done instead.

There was a church where I grew up
with its white cupboards where they locked us up,
row by row, like puritans or shipmates
singing together. My father passed the plate.
Too late to be forgiven now, the witches said.
I wasn't exactly forgiven. They had my portrait
done instead.

3.

All that summer sprinklers arched
over the seaside grass.
We talked of drought
while the salt-parched
field grew sweet again. To help time pass
I tried to mow the lawn
and in the morning I had my portrait done,
holding my smile in place, till it grew formal.
Once I mailed you a picture of a rabbit
and a postcard of Motif number one,
as if it were normal
to be a mother and be gone.

They hung my portrait in the chill
north light, matching
me to keep me well.
Only my mother grew ill.
She turned from me, as if death were catching,
as if death transferred,
as if my dying had eaten inside of her.
That August you were two, by I timed my days with doubt.
On the first of September she looked at me
and said I gave her cancer.
They carved her sweet hills out
and still I couldn't answer.

4.

That winter she came
part way back
from her sterile suite
of doctors, the seasick
cruise of the X-ray,
the cells' arithmetic
gone wild. Surgery incomplete,
the fat arm, the prognosis poor, I heard
them say.

During the sea blizzards
she had here
own portrait painted.
A cave of mirror
placed on the south wall;
matching smile, matching contour.
And you resembled me; unacquainted
with my face, you wore it. But you were mine
after all.

I wintered in Boston,
childless bride,
nothing sweet to spare
with witches at my side.
I missed your babyhood,
tried a second suicide,
tried the sealed hotel a second year.
On April Fool you fooled me. We laughed and this
was good.

5.

I checked out for the last time
on the first of May;
graduate of the mental cases,
with my analysts's okay,
my complete book of rhymes,
my typewriter and my suitcases.

All that summer I learned life
back into my own
seven rooms, visited the swan boats,
the market, answered the phone,
served cocktails as a wife
should, made love among my petticoats

and August tan. And you came each
weekend. But I lie.
You seldom came. I just pretended
you, small piglet, butterfly
girl with jelly bean cheeks,
disobedient three, my splendid

stranger. And I had to learn
why I would rather
die than love, how your innocence
would hurt and how I gather
guilt like a young intern
his symptons, his certain evidence.

That October day we went
to Gloucester the red hills
reminded me of the dry red fur fox
coat I played in as a child; stock still
like a bear or a tent,
like a great cave laughing or a red fur fox.

We drove past the hatchery,
the hut that sells bait,
past Pigeon Cove, past the Yacht Club, past Squall's
Hill, to the house that waits
still, on the top of the sea,
and two portraits hung on the opposite walls.

6.

In north light, my smile is held in place,
the shadow marks my bone.
What could I have been dreaming as I sat there,
all of me waiting in the eyes, the zone
of the smile, the young face,
the foxes' snare.

In south light, her smile is held in place,
her cheeks wilting like a dry
orchid; my mocking mirror, my overthrown
love, my first image. She eyes me from that face
that stony head of death
I had outgrown.

The artist caught us at the turning;
we smiled in our canvas home
before we chose our foreknown separate ways.
The dry redfur fox coat was made for burning.
I rot on the wall, my own
Dorian Gray.

And this was the cave of the mirror,
that double woman who stares
at herself, as if she were petrified
in time -- two ladies sitting in umber chairs.
You kissed your grandmother
and she cried.

7.

I could not get you back
except for weekends. You came
each time, clutching the picture of a rabbit
that I had sent you. For the last time I unpack
your things. We touch from habit.
The first visit you asked my name.
Now you will stay for good. I will forget
how we bumped away from each other like marionettes
on strings. It wasn't the same
as love, letting weekends contain
us. You scrape your knee. You learn my name,
wobbling up the sidewalk, calling and crying.
You can call me mother and I remember my mother again,
somewhere in greater Boston, dying.

I remember we named you Joyce
so we could call you Joy.
You came like an awkward guest
that first time, all wrapped and moist
and strange at my heavy breast.
I needed you. I didn't want a boy,
only a girl, a small milky mouse
of a girl, already loved, already loud in the house
of herself. We named you Joy.
I, who was never quite sure
about being a girl, needed another
life, another image to remind me.
And this was my worst guilt; you could not cure
or soothe it. I made you to find me.
spysgrandson Oct 2012
Aunt Gracie took me there
for a philly and five cent cee-gar
old enough to fight,
old enough to puff on that stogie
she said
(and not much more)
I spun my stool like I was on a carnival ride
(had only one beer with Uncle Lon, but your first beer is the best)
and Gracie looked at me
like I was still the kid
who broke her basement window
with a bad pitch
when I was ten
yeah, I was, still that boy
seven years later
in that glass box of light
humming in the concrete night
big round Gracie smilin’ at me,
looking like she was gonna cry
she had signed those papers
lied with that pen
making me old enough to be a killer
and smoke that cigar, I suppose
the couple eating eggs and bacon
asked if I was shipping out
six AM, yes sir
the woman smiled like Gracie
the man nodded his head, said
**** a *** for me
sure thing, sure thing
me thinking killing one of them
would let me live,
forever,
forever, and wouldn’t be any different
from playin’ God with bee-bees and birds
which I had done a time or two
with my Daisy
cook put my philly in front of me
his eyes locked on the counter
like someone condemned
to never hold his head up high
and trapped in that diner
forever,
forever feeding
me and other nighthawks
who come to this place
the last space of light
in the hungry night
thanks for the sandwich, I said
he said that’s free
but the man eatin’ eggs
said it’s on me
cook didn’t look at the man
went to cleaning some pan
was then I noticed he limped
bad
I asked how he got hurt
he kept his eyes on his sink
said, it was a long time
before this night
were you born that way?
nobody born this way son
Gracie’s elbow nudged mine
but sixteen and full of all
of one beer, I was gonna keep askin’
how--
it was a long time
before this night
I know, but how--
guess you’ll know
soon enough
we were
clawing our way
from a French trench
filled with gas and gasps
of boys with your face
too dead to cry, too dead to scream
when those machine gunners cut loose
what I got was some good luck
and one of those big rounds
in my knee
Gracie’s elbow moved away
she put her hand on my leg
(my hand was on my philly, limp and still)
you got shot by the Krauts in the Great War?
he didn’t say anymore
and I didn’t eat my meal
 
Gracie was good to me,
I know she wrote all the time
but we didn’t always get our mail
on those big ships, many men
would leave their suppers on the floor
in all that stink of seasick
they taught me to play cards
told me jokes, gave me smokes
Lucky Strikes
we were going to some place
with a funny sounding name
Ee-wa Gee-ma, Ee-wa Gee-ma
at night, when I would look
at the black bottom of the bunk above me
I would see
someplace green, Ee-wa, sunny, Gee-ma
someplace with curling trees
and birds for my daisy to shoot at
other nights, in that dark,
in that stale stink of tobacco and puke
I would see the humming light
of the diner that night, wishing
I had eaten that philly sandwich
and smoked that cigar
(which I left by the plate)
I would think of Gracie
and how she begged me
to confess my sins
(to the recruiting sergeant)
to come back
safe, whole, she said
(but I didn’t know what whole meant)
after that, I heard only the voices of men
some barking orders and commands
others whimpering,
whispering
in the same dark
ship of steel
 
 
when I saw the grey rocks
and flak-filled sky, and heard
the swoosh of surf
and the thunder
of our ships’ guns
and some rat-tat-tat
from the invisible holes
I knew I knew,
nothing yet of hell
 
Happy, we called him
was dead
all nineteen years of him
on that **** hole of beach
his guts strewn across the sand
(his life story I guess)
making their peace with *****
and the red and black blood
of other boys and men
who played cards
and flipped open their Zippos
to light my smokes
told me jokes
and laced their boots with me
that very morning
 
by the time
the ramp fell
I spotted Happy
my stinging eyes stuck
to his shredded belly
we, all of us, fell forward
into the shallow Pacific
ran, with all our gear clanging
to dunes high enough to hide
to hide,
but only long enough
to catch our breath
and smell cordite, fear-sweat,
and burned flesh
we did not take time to gag
over the dunes we went
told to make it to a rock
some twenty of us
to a rock no bigger than Lon’s ‘36 coupe
by the time we hid behind the rock
only eight of us hunched there
the others were where?
didn’t know, didn’t care
I had my piece of rock
rounds kept poppin’ off
the other side
from all those invisible holes
filled with slant eyed demons
my ears were ringing
when I heard the corporal say
start putting fire on that hole
what hole, what hole, what hole
the words were stuck somewhere
deep inside, not in my throat
but they were there
trying to ask him where
what hole? what hole
(I thought for a moment about Gracie and coming back whole?)
the corporal, OK, I forgot his **** name
he wasn’t in my platoon
he said put some fire on that hole
one more time
but then when he got up to shoot his M-1
something made his helmet fly off
and most of him went to the ground
the part that didn’t go out the back of his head
Tommy grabbed my arm
(Tommy taught me that four of a kind beats a full house)
and said something
and said it again
over there, over there
OVER THERE
when I looked where he was looking
I saw them, one with a tan helmet,
the other with a shiny black head of hair
Tommy was trying to point his M-1
at those **** who were firing
their 92 machine gun
at those boys on the beach
I pointed my M-1 at them too
but my hands were shaking too bad to aim
Tommy aimed I think
and we both kept shootin’ at those ****
who finally just looked like they went to sleep
but they never woke up
but neither did the other six boys
who were hiding behind that rock with us
because as soon as Tommy and me
started shootin’ at those ****,
they turned that 92 at us
but all those boys were in front of us
pressed so tight against that stingy rock
they couldn’t breathe
or move
even enough
to get their M-1 carbines
turned
in the right direction
so when those **** turned that 92
on the bunch of us
Tommy and I were in the right place
behind six poor boys
who couldn’t move
and got their young bodies
peppered with every round
that come from the hot barrel
of that *** 92 machine gun
once those two *** boys were asleep
I felt something warm on my arm
it was blood from Hector’s face
but Hector didn’t have a face left
part of it was on my sleeve
I think
but I didn’t look
Hector was in my squad
and he wore a Saint Christopher
to keep him safe
Hector didn’t lose all his head
like I heard Saint Christopher did
but most of it
and if that pendant
and all his mama’s prayers
didn’t keep him safe
I guess nothing could
 
I don’t remember when
I was able to sleep
through a whole night
without wakin’ up
thinking about
Hector, the corporal
and the other five boys
who died right there
behind the rock
there were a million other rocks
where boys
“went to sleep”
only they didn’t wake up
feeling Hector’s warm blood
on their arms
shivering
before it even got cold,
dry, and black
 
Gracie told me
the diner closed
she didn’t know why
but now
when I can’t sleep
and walk the pavement
in the middle of the city night
I go to that dark corner cafe
looking for the buzzing light
I want my cigar I did not smoke
and once again hear the words
the limping man spoke
I don’t have any more questions
he won’t want to answer
but if I did
they might be stuck
down inside
not in my throat
but deeper
where things churn
but don’t ever get seen or heard
I do wonder
if those other boys
at the rock,
and those other rocks,
all those other rocks
are taking these lonely late night walks
or if they had talked
with a limping man
who fed them for free
who thought he was lucky
and spoke words
no young eager bird killers
could yet understand
Nighthawks refers to a 1942 Edward Hopper painting of a corner diner and was the inspiration for the first and last stanzas
Àŧùl Apr 2015
I Peered Out Of The Room Windows,
I Was In This Desolate Guesthouse,
It Was A Comfortable Rest House,
And Here I Was In Anticipation,
Angel Or Whosoever Was Awaited,
Will She Pop Into My Vision Here Too,
Was It Only A Seasick Mind's Illusion?

Was All That Really Just An Illusion,
Thinking This I Prepared For Bed,
Then I Felt A Flute Was Playing,
Looked Into Sound's Direction,
All I Saw Then Was Foggy Night,
My Own Reflection Was Also Visible,
Slightly If Not Entirely Can Be Seen.

I Recalled The First Night At The Sea,
She Did Appear On The Towed Raft,
A Beautiful Mermaid I Had Seen,
Now I Did Remember It Clearly,
My Face Was No Longer Mine,
Yes It Was The Beautiful face of hers,
She Wasn't Sad As I Did Remember.

She Was Smiling So Very Divinely,
Her Brown Eyes Stared So Cutely,
More Divine Felt She Was Really,
I Thought That It Was So Early,
My Pocket Watch Showed Three,
I Took My Eyes Off And Went To Bed,
Then & There She Was Lying For Me.

I Again Let My Mind Play Games,
Never Did Imagine Turning Mad,
Now I Was Not Feeling As Bad,
Neither I Wanted To Break It,
Nor It Felt Like One Anymore,
This Was The Dream I Loved To Live,
As If The Boon Was Presented To Me.

She Smiled As I Sat On The Bed,
I Asked Her, "Are You Real?"
"Yes, Just As Your Thoughts,"
I Then Stared At Her Lips,
She Then Touched Me Again,
Hands As Soft As That Night At Sea,
I Just Felt Like Opposing Her Touch.

I Blankly Smiled And Thought,
'My Thoughts Are Surely Real,'
Then I Just Let Her Guide Me,
The Moon Shone So Bright,
It Just Felt Really So Very Right,
Resigning I Just Let My Illusion Win,
It's Love We Were Sharing, Not A Sin.
This is the 4th episode of The 'Angel?' Saga

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/13567/the-angel-saga/

My HP Poem #848
©Atul Kaushal
berry Dec 2013
You are the type of boy whose got saltwater in his bloodstream, bones like coral, and a heart made of driftwood – and at this point I’m just hoping someday you’ll wash up on my shore. I have seen the broken glass and beer bottle caps tucked in the folds of your sandy skin. I know how you left cuts on the feet of those who walked all over you. They were never sorry and you always were. Everyone else was too busy molding you into mangled and misshapen castles, only to stomp on them. Your soul was tangled in a mess of seaweeds and deep-sea debris. No one ever saw the brilliance of the sun's reflection in your smile that made you more dazzling than a million diamonds. But I noticed from the beginning that you were more than a temporary vacation spot or a convenient photo-op. and the shark-infested waters in your head shrank to puddles when you spoke to me in words like waves. To this day I can’t figure out what I did to deserve to be the only one you’ve ever allowed to explore your ocean floors, but I am grateful. I pressed my ear to your chest like it was the mouth of a conch shell, and heard the entirety of your ache without you saying a single thing. Violent storms churned in your belly at the hand of faceless puppeteers; made seasick by countless careless captains. But the sky cleared instantaneously the moment I came aboard. The same sun whose rays you’d always been wary of, now kiss your face the same way i wish to, taking utmost care not to burn. Your laughter is a school of fish filled with more colors than I can count and the sound of your sleeping breath is an ocean breeze. I am in love with the perfect shoreline curve of your mouth. Every day I find various buried treasures in your hidden coves and sunken ships, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of discovering you.

- m.f.
the name as well as general inspiration for writing this poem was drawn from the song Beach Baby, by Bon Iver.
Sarina Aug 2013
The sea has many ports, while I have two eyes
but a better thought is how I am
similar to a wave —
I am his, a part of his, despite
having my own composition I move for him.

Do the waves give
their water a massage, I know
I caress his heart as often as I can.

There are crystals in there
where his organs hang like chandeliers, and I
rock them even from
above his skin, above his water —
feel me as something that can be captured.
Seth Milliman Jan 2016
I called out to the sea,
But it did not call me.
Sailing on its ferocious waves,
Seasick by the up and down.
The waves can sometimes be calm,
With a little breeze to push,
But then become chaotic with deadly strength.
I am on those seas with no lighthouse,
Can the journey be accomplished without it?
What seas do you ride?
Is there a lighthouse to guide you?
Will you make it across?
I cannot answer nor can I say,
For I am still riding those ferocious waves.
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2017
i fear that constantly redefining poetry gets no poetry done...
        i don't mean it as: primarily
performance art,
                 i meant it as: composition art...
but the curret theme (counter to
philosophy's concept of form)
         has been lost... to be trapped in
an art-form where the only theme is refining
the art: without actual output...
                    i don't know how many misnomers
i might have used,
     or haven't used...
                     i'm drinking white *** and i'm like:
*****'s sweety juices are like choc when downing this...
i turn to brown cane liquids?
              it's almost like whiskey...
         i'm starting to hear bagpipes... but they're not
scottish... n'ah ah! there's a distinction!
   they're not only scottish...
there's the dudelsack... and there's the dudy
or the kózoły...
                         etymology? kozioł / sagittarius...
the male goat...
    velkopopovický kozel?    the word doesn't matter,
the diacritical mark does, the acute sign above
the y, i.e. via linguistic dissection:
             velko (great, large / wielki) -
          po po (after after) - vický... the **** of ι...
               it is derived from this... vicki...   but it's more
or less vickee...
               english without diacritical marks
can soon turn ugly and acronym...
                                    the great after father victor...
and kozel? father goat.
                        ***** ******* after they
downed a few beers and were like: *******!
     oh the picture isn't pretty... but i see western
  birthrates decline because you've stopped treating
dogs as instruments of protection... cuddles! cuddle!
you lived on a farm, you had a dog hut and a dog
on a chain... and when a thief came along in the night...
you let the dog off its chain... and whether a rottweiler
or a doberman... the dog would morph into a hart...
and it was more effective than a gun...
      you know what they call haggis in eastern europe?
czarna kiszka (charn'ah keesh'kah)...
of you think the thing originates in scotland?
                depends what you mix intestines with -
in the east it's made from pork... in england the same
things is made (black pudding) - but they don't
add carbohydrate grains...
                                      'ullo oo'rho'pa'h!
seriously though... when did poetry come to
resemble: i need to write poetry about writing poetry...
but never actually writing any poetry...
i can understand lyrics...
                like you'd might sing auld lang syne...
but what about the narrative vein of it
akin to homer or virgil?
                                  la i mbealtine! - dudas!
begpies aren't a scottish invention!
                           they're just different whereever you
go on the continent...
                          they have different tuning...
like drop-d or standard blues guitars...
                       la e mm beel tain...
                                         hence the need to differentiate
the concept of the logos from the phonos...
                       it's needed, it came about
when the greeks started incorporating diacritical
marks... and the last romans didn't do anything about it!
doughnut proper that crap...
           i'll see how long the *** appeal of the english
accent in america would take me,
or how far the american accent would take me in
england... while calling scots: indecipherable...
     dudahy!
                               bagpipes in eastern europe...
    begpies!
                             dudam: verb, playing the bagpipes.
it's not a scottish "thing"... the scottish bagpipes
probably have the worst tuning... they're like
beavers farting...
                               while whistling through their
buck-teeth...
                   with that gap in between their frontal teeth...
fizzle... thistle... thizzy... oh the glory
    of the cultural export of americanism...
                     i've already started pledging allegiance
to russia... imagine that!
              i'm hearing opinions that actually
think arizona or colorado or nevada are
actual countries, equivalent to croatia, serbia,
or god forbid germany... apart from the former's
homogeneousness... and with the latter example:
             the e.u. isn't some x-men prologue narrative!
it's one thing that they're not speaking flemish or french
in the european parliament... it's that they're talking
with these terrible accents!
        ugh... i literally have no real magic trick akin
to being astounded as to why the english decided to left...
it's one thing dealing with the welsh, the irish and scots...
but these belgians with their version of english
that undermines east london accents?
                                                   who you fooling?
they left because it was a bit like:
1, 1, 1, 1, 1... and then the belgians... and the english
turned neurotic with the accents...
                            (ireland, n. ireland, wales, scotland,
england) -
                     these are very sensitive people...
   they're a people with insomniac tendencies...
                       it's not even like a billion chinese people
with only 3 time zones...
                    they cover the whole spectrum of a day:
'ere a minute,
                                                    'ere 'ive 'our 'ater
(there five hours later);
                 and they say that the state of Levant
is on amphetamines... yeah, and i'm an a.d.h.d. squirrel;
   skinning those nuts like eating out a *******'s *****.
You swear this water's still, and it's quiet, inky blackness is all around us,
Lacing itself with the thick cotton fog that makes my hair stick wetly to my skin and
You must be lying because my world is swaying
Back and forth in an all too predictable fashion and the noise, oh god the noise is mixing ,
It's mixing and swirling with those scattered fuzzy yellow lights on the horizon and
I feel sick to my stomach with the smell of rain and ocean  salt soaked wood choking my lungs

You're speaking, saying something nonsensical and stupid and it feels like
You're screaming and my ears are ringing, and I beg internally for you to just
Bite your tongue because my skin is clammy and the tremors are making their way
From my skin into my veins and into my heart which is aching for the solidity of dry land
And you're still muttering about things that never matter and I can't tell the difference
Between the humidity and the sheen of sweat gracing my features

So I lean on the railing, where salt kisses my lips and water licks at my fingers
And what I wouldn't give to just throw myself over board into that
Thick, muddled water that's pleading to swallow me whole
It's toxic clutches that desire my mind in exchange for silence
But your fingers grasp my arm and I fall to my knees,
Dry heaves wracking my frame and I curse your name for eternity

My breathing feels scattered and my chest is burning
And the air is cold and wet to mock me as my internal thermometer
Goes haywire and sets its own course and my eyes feel glassy
Because my vision is milky and everything's swirling
And I lay myself down on the deck, with the fizz of foam
Grasping my hair and its white noise lulling me to a fitful sleep
Lynn Greyling Dec 2014
Breakers in a misty grey sea-storm,
Spray-foam rising and tossing,
Plunging me into seasick momentum.

I ****** out white stretched palms
And throw back my head,
The salt air stings my throat.

It burns within my chest
While hanging feetless
In the storm driven billows.

I fix my eyes on the
pearly black cloudless night
and beg the stars to anchor me.
mjad Aug 2018
Don't use ****
To get what I need
**** em up
**** me up
Dyslexia *****
Like I **** you off
On my best friends floor
Behind the bathroom door
While they're dead asleep
Our secret to keep
Turn off the TV
Making sure they can't see
You right on top of me
Fingertips trace along your sides
While you're meeting my insides
Get to know me even more
Can't hear our moans over their snore
I can barely keep my eyes open
Swim in me like I'm the ocean
Getting seasick everywave
A life I can't help but save
Swallowed like Jonah and the whale
Pause and we both exhale
Collapse in exhaustion
After our little excursion
Your heartbeat puts me to sleep
Your breathing is still deep
Didn't even need ****
To get a good night's sleep
Craig Verlin Jan 2013
sixteen
what was it like
again?
becoming infinite
on that couch
at her parents house
what was her name
again?

lost at sea
look out
behind the aft
is that sixteen?
almost off the horizon now
but this ship don't turn around
no no no
here comes twenty
on track to forever
rough waves and storm
can't remember the calm
no sign of shore

here comes twenty
think I'm seasick
throw me overboard
seasick and sorry
wish it would
slow the **** down
just for a second
look at sixteen
what was it like
again?
T Zanahary Aug 2012
If my canvas was removable
I'd have snakeskin sheddings
piled at my feet
tattooed by a pen in
languages I'm still learning.
Lessons may have missed,
but concepts still birth
third-eye conception,
without static
the reception looked perceptive
but lacked the proper method of thought,
though those with lacked grasp
are gasping to breathe,
are constantly seething
in serial reading,
your glasses reflect crystal *****.
Distortion skewed what you said,
proportionately blowing away my thoughts
with what wrath you wrought,
temper tempering timid temerity
to take tricks to the thoughtless actions
making affairs public
and tricks tickets to freed selves.
I'm tired of feeling like an addict,
your trips to town
leaving me shaking,
the absence
a strong shot of absinthe
followed by detoxification
of my blood
and thoughts.
Atrophy caused apathy
and heart-rot.
This shaking has to stop
or these words will forever
go unread.
Lines becoming waves
I'm seasick off thinking,
sea, I'm sick of thinking,
sick, I'm sea, cool blue
holding vast universe
and creation claimed creatures
in crevices buried
under self.
Thunderheads strike me
with glimpses of brilliance
as they reiterate what already was,
composing a self-made being
prophesised by ancients
who became whole,
a collected conference of ne'er-do-wells
and great lakes of depression
mistaken as puddles when the clouds
reanimate their deadened self
with soul of we,
with ***** and spirits,
both happy and deadly
lost only in the way
they lost self
to selfish thoughts
of a growing (m/w)e.
And when essence is discarded,
replaced by common cents
or otherwise deemed useless
we are left to wonder,
who's this?
Eyes
look, nearly censored
by silver backings and
dulled centers
seem lacking in humanity,
left more to primal urges,
hunting for those thoughts
left behind and gathering
pieces of rotheart
to rekindle that passion we've forgotten
after complacency compromised
our composure,
leaving heads slung in hopes of finding
a small piece of fragmented earth
in which to glimpse
a reflection of our core.
It lies dormant, though not dead,
we fear eruption of emotional enticement,
instead sleeping giants be we,
volatile and awe some,
do not catch eyes
lest we be the last things seen,
two peaceful for something not known
in the unknown languages
that cover us,
nor seen in the depths
of collective conscious,
though treating us apart,
hair by hair,
limb by limb,
being by be ing we are separating,
nay, unraveling,
untangling me from the complications
of we
only to see we
are incomplete and
alone.
Broken to pieces it's easier
to accept
the whole of who we are.
This piece was featured in Penny Ante Feud 9: Supply and Demand.
Khoisan Aug 2019
Sick,
is the sea, I love
behold the wobbling blue sky,
the boat rocks,
my rod drops,
I fall overboard
elated.
Zach Abler May 2014
Oh Rock! Upon You I build my foothold
Don't let me wander off astray
Tie a knot of a bell on my pleading throat
You who reign over all, King of Old!

Seasick and half dead from the flooding dangers of my vanity
Help! I'm getting ****** down-dry, a slice of my deadly miry pie
You're hand not too short to lend me life anew and of serenity

Oh Endless! Awakened from a dire sleep
I come before Your tireless feet
Bathe in springs of abundant grace
'Til my hands grow tireless toiling the earth for the shade of Your face

Time may move its hands of tricks and deceit
Stagnant pool of smirking clocks
Right before I accept defeat
Stay my hand with everlasting wings

Oh Steadfast! Aiming towards love with eyes so true
To You who deserves where all praise due is due
You look through me, creepy candy coating
Embraced with arms everlasting

Love of which knows no cease
One desire of which heals all disease
Dogs lie await to be fed by the crumbs of You, Purest.
Show me great and mighty things thy mind hast not knowest
Written for the spoken word part of the song 'Round 1 Sally' by the band 'To The Tune of Lilies' replacing an audio Bible playback Psalm 69 in their last gig at Sa'Less Tekanplor Bar in Davao City, Philippines.
mikev May 2015
heights aren't so bad
it's the depths i worry about
Cry Sebastian Jan 2010
MacBain splutters,
long winded speeches,
intoxicating stutters.

Whisky reeks volumes on volumes of volumes,
unfathomable mysteries on infallible fumes.

Helga looks hideously **** tonight,
the ghoul in the corner looks up for a fight.
The toilet's transforming into a white telephone,
just one last drink until the drinking is done.

Redshot eyes light another cigarette,
Shooter all round,
and a beer what the heck!

The dance floor is moving like a seasick ship,
We all feel like rock stars defining whats hip.
Until tonight they were separate specialties,
different stories, the best of their own worst.
Riding my warm cabin home, I remember Betsy's
laughter; she laughed as you did, Rose, at the first
story. Someday, I promised her, I'll be someone
going somewhere and we plotted it in the humdrum
school for proper girls. The next April the plane
bucked me like a horse, my elevators turned
and fear blew down my throat, that last profane
gauge of a stomach coming up. And then returned
to land, as unlovely as any seasick sailor,
sincerely eighteen; my first story, my funny failure.
Maybe Rose, there is always another story,
better unsaid, grim or flat or predatory.
Half a mile down the lights of the in-between cities
turn up their eyes at me. And I remember Betsy's
story, the April night of the civilian air crash
and her sudden name misspelled in the evening paper,
the interior of shock and the paper gone in the trash
ten years now. She used the return ticket I gave her.
This was the rude **** of her; two planes cracking
in mid-air over Washington, like blind birds.
And the picking up afterwards, the morticians tracking
bodies in the Potomac and piecing them like boards
to make a leg or a face. There is only her miniature
photograph left, too long now for fear to remember.
Special tonight because I made her into a story
that I grew to know and savor.
A reason to worry,
Rose, when you fix an old death like that,
and outliving the impact, to find you've pretended.
We bank over Boston. I am safe. I put on my hat.
I am almost someone going home. The story has ended.
Take away your knowledge, Doktor.
It doesn't butter me up.

You say my heart is sick unto.
You ought to have more respect!

you with the goo on the suction cup.
You with your wires and electrodes

fastened at my ankle and wrist,
******* up the biological breast.

You with your zigzag machine
playing like the stock market up and down.

Give me the Phi Beta key you always twirl
and I will make a gold crown for my molar.

I will take a slug if you please
and make myself a perfectly good appendix.

Give me a fingernail for an eyeglass.
The world was milky all along.

I will take an iron and press out
my slipped disk until it is flat.

But take away my mother's carcinoma
for I have only one cup of fetus tears.

Take away my father's cerebral hemorrhage
for I have only a jigger of blood in my hand.

Take away my sister's broken neck
for I have only my schoolroom ruler for a cure.

Is there such a device for my heart?
I have only a gimmick called magic fingers.

Let me dilate like a bad debt.
Here is a sponge. I can squeeze it myself.

O heart, tobacco red heart,
beat like a rock guitar.

I am at the ship's prow.
I am no longer the suicide

with her raft and paddle.
Herr Doktor! I'll no longer die

to spite you, you wallowing
seasick grounded man.
belbere Mar 2015
pour me a drink
from the grooves
in your hands, honey
i'll lap up your words,
sip your oceans
like wine
because i only find solace
in salt water hallucinations

and you
are the only form
of intoxication
that doesn’t make
me seasick
My extremely late response to The (amazing) Anonymous Joker's (Want) to recollect: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/1050082/want-to-recollect/
chimaera Jan 2016
Life.

Life?

Time drifter.

And then,
then
- this.

**** it.

I am not fit for it.
I know I am not.

I can't breathe.

I can't breathe
either way.
14.01.2016
Gavin Aug 2018
Happiness, a strange thing.
Happiness with you, more than anything
I need to be with you, but it
Feels like I’m losing my touch.

Happiness, a brave thing.
Happiness with you, I’m begging for it please tell me where you’re going because it
Feels like I’m losing your touch.

You’re my light, yeah.
Otherwise, it’s all the same.
It’s just all the same.
All the same.

Happiness, deranged me.
Happiness with you, all I can think about, it’s true
I’m so ashamed, but it
Feels like I’m losing too much

Happiness, leave me.
Happiness with you, questions left unanswered, no clues
I’m to blame but lately it
Feels like you’re losing enough.

Why?
Why did it go to waste.
It’s all gone to waste.
A fire no longer tamed.
No longer the same.

Happiness, a stranger.
Happiness abandoned, the ship a wreck, seasick, no longer standing
And I
Have given in too far

Happiness, belated.
Happiness, I’m stranded, gashed the wound and taped over with a bandage
And yet
You’re too far out at sea for me.
Carol Cummons Mar 2013
I.
It was peppermint,
snowflake blonde hair spilling into gold
the foxlike amber of my skin
against her phosphorescent white.
She made me seasick with her bird-blue eyes
and stuck like cotton candy to my fingers.

II.
Her name was Phoenix,
and she scared me with her firecracker will.
It made my lungs into waterfalls
my thoughts and fingers, butterflies.
My carbon-copy hair carnelian red
a solar flare, an Icarus, an imitation star.

III.
We were virgins,
and volcanoes. Sharing milkbox wishes
on rooftops and climbing trees like horses
instead of tiger-mouthed boys.
We swallowed the citrus-colored summer
like gingerbread and lemonade.
For the girl who kissed me, my childhood friend, and my oldest sister.
MsAmendable Jun 2016
The stormy shore does blow
With all its wind and might
Then waves will crash
On rocks and splash
All throughout the night

***

Frothy waves tremble uneasily,
Seasick on the rolling tide
Shaken waters, choppy waves
Stormy seas on oceans wide

***

The troubled sea rolls in to shore
To bash along the rocky floor
And brushes quaint, the fishing boats
All of which no longer floats

***

The waves beneath my feet
My feet upon the pier
Day grows short, the end draws near
And dance along the rocky shore
For ever and forever more

***

Sea birds fly like kites
Soaring through the gusty winds
Sprayed by sea, they dance
In stormy revelry,
their wingéd fins of feathers
hoist them higher than the sails
Of ships, or spray of whales
Mark Lecuona Jul 2016
Just a lot of talk
That’s all I can say
Fill the world up
Fill the air with my ways
Even if they didn’t ask for that from me

Do I have an alternative
Suburban myths say no
Great change means great suffering
A madman’s dream
He only needs a friend to know if it’s possible
Let’s meet at dawn for another try

A lock on the past
And her heart
But not upon mine
She allows me to be free
If then the chance remains
For my return to her side
But what I remember
Is a movie with no end
And a tragedy is how I must live
With love I cannot ignore
And a soul I cannot abandon

I wondered if I could do it
Nothing but water
Sickness from within
Unprepared for the unknown
Day after day
A test of my will
Trying to see something
Something I’ve never seen
Or anyone else

Still I have nightmares
Even as I stand in watch
Each swell sheaths my thoughts
Is it for what I have done
Or what I have seen?
Written in scrolls
Attached to trees of life
Sashed by what divides mind and flesh
Every entry penned is a ritual
Or was it just a moment recorded on my mind?

You thought you left yours behind
But I can see it on the horizon
You didn’t know where to go
So I went there for you
The tears behind my eyes wait
When I reach what you can no longer feel
I will give it a gentle whisper to come home
Tom McCone Apr 2013
Flittering feathers write sonnets
in soaring frequencies;
taking in the ocean at once,
I felt ripples brought to standstill,
damped by second's refrain,
curled back into the
picturesque blue written ahead,
but
no cloud harbours the ceiling,
no late words shown, jotted down
by the
indifferent and
invariably disappearing breeze.

The latterwork of these days took it up,
and hung it out
on lines stretched across skies and time,
betraying tender surfeit, in moments
torn out,
and,
leaving only
vague traces of
woodworn prose,
spilling out my last sentiments:

"we, once,
were alive,
if only for a moment."


In dreams she holds small collections
of sandy flowers,
above the shoreline,
as the dichotomous cluster takes theirs,
behind a fragmentary grain
in the blacksmith's hide;
written, again, are those seasick letters,
wrung out
in the dead heat of the forge,
the demands of strangers,
in stone buildings by the fireplace,
electric heater, off,
the inbetween reeling
of slightened accomplishments,
the scent of oil,
left over, from the husk of noon.

Miss and want, over again,
missing beguilement in afternoon's repose.

"come back...",
but she ain't the one gone.
dedicated to antarctica

— The End —