"breakwaters" poems
gulls and terns spin in the air
as waves lullaby the sleepy dreamers
with grand tales and rich promise of paradise to be
found just over the horizons edge
sailors eye to the swift wind
sure hand to tackle and line
hearty men of salted liquid soil
grown to giants in the breakwaters thunder
but gentle that hands heart
when the tolling bell calls out the names of the lost
and the sea has swept away all but her witnessed tale
to leave the widows and forlorn child to
carve name to wall and mourn
past midnight now
a dead calm
and cloudless sky reigns
with a majesty of brilliant starlight
upon this sea reflecting the heavens slow march
i lay like a supplicant muted by the spectacle
to souls hunger this moment and place
shows a deeper meaning to thouse souls with eyes to see
a dead calm
and cloudless sky reigns
with a majesty of brilliant starlight
the old salt sailor breaks into deep song
that sooths and lends hardy meal to the heart
hold fast young lad hold fast
the morning rushing forward brings
the breaking wave and unfolds sail with quick wind
and the sailors eye rejoices with
merry songs to measure the hour
and jauntily bring our fair seabird
back to her warm home
sea and sand in the salt sailors blood
and a kind heart guides the way
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
Upon the sea wall the breakwaters pound
She holds my hand my soul is bound
A salty summer breeze, fresh and alive
Her hair blows wildly across the sky
A beacon buoy dances upon the ocean swells
Anchored to its destiny attempting to rebel
Seagulls attracted by its ringing bell
They take their haven in this beacon’s hell
Her brown eyes scan the horizon then back at me
I don't know what she sees in me
Truth is I hunger to be free; you know, like the sea
Yet like the buoy I could never leave
I start to say, you know our dreams are quite insane
But she quickly covers my mouth, “Shhh, do you want it to rain?
The sun is shining, the sky is blue and I will always love you”
I think to myself, what more could I ever want to hear
Still my heart is somewhere out there
And again the hungry sea calls out to me
Take a chance and come be free
Yet then again, where would I be
But alone upon the hungry sea...
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 10:00 AM UTC
Because no one and no thing can stop a heart from breaking ;
Because once sorrow is unleashed from the deepest crevices in ourselves, the flood and waves of hurt cannot be halted by even the strongest of all breakwaters ;
Because humans are social creatures and though the loneliest of us deny this, we cannot help but want love when there is no love to receive, want to hope though we know it is hopeless, want to believe though we know it is not to be or perhaps, never to be ;
That is why when the tears flow, I cannot just stop them.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
Walking to the bodega,
I think about those sparrows
that run in the wind,
even when there's a cold blow
going,
and they work
like freaks
with sin on their mind.
Once I clear myself
of you,
I will write
like I used to,
I will be free
of the breakwaters
to read,
write,
and create
again, but love
or whatever-the-fuck-it-was,
has put a stop to
everything,
and I walk
to the bodega
with a head full of nothing;
no thermals,
no heat for me to ride, but I'm sure
I'll be okay,
I'm sure
you don't care.
I'd rather
be safe on some branch
lapping acid rain out
of a lead saucer,
than trying to ford
this river in the air
with nothing, not even a pair
of wet wings.
When I get
to the store,
I buy a pack of Marlboros
and ask
for all the lead
in the world.
He looks at me
with a screwface,
so I ask him again,
and he
says
"No loitering."
I was gonna fly home,
gonna try and test my
shoulder blades and see if maybe
I could make something happen.
But, I go to the garbage barge in the back
and sit, beside it, gravel scratching my *** with stingers,
as light scissors out of the sky;
little needles of sun in
the little oceans
in the little asphalt craters
making little,
if not any,
noise,
and I lean
drinking something slightly mean,
a forty and another in the bag,
because it usually helps in these situations.
I left my wings somewhere
and I cry there,
cry because I'm
stranded
in a place that I have never been,
with all the light in the world
and no place to put it.
I murked out,
at some point.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 4:59 PM UTC
In life, perhaps, I fear no more a thing,
But pangs of conscience frighten my weary soul.
In night’s deep hush, I pray, my voice takes wing –
My heart aches sharp, and tears begin to roll.
Some are no more. Their souls to heavens fled.
No chance to meet, embrace, or greet again.
What is life? A fleeting flash...
The wave runs fast, by breakwaters split and spread.
No words remain to answer for the pain.
Forgive me now, for I was blind with pride,
Why did I fling sharp words into your face?
Forgive me, those I wounded in my rage,
Back then, life’s feast seemed like eternal grace,
And I felt not the sting of conscience’s bite.
O wisdom, soothe this sorrow in my breast!
In Lethe’s stream, no soul may enter twice –
To you, departed, much I owe, confessed.
The voice of conscience screamed in night’s still air...
Lethe – the river of oblivion in Greek mythology.
Mar 21, 2025
Mar 21, 2025 at 8:55 AM UTC
I am borrowing-
your smile.
Hold my hand to the end
of my pain.
Collecting the stone fruits
for a ritual. I will
skin the pink-yellow shade
for your eyes.
Like fire ants- moonlight
stings. Smothering all
the embers. Some flames won't die.
The crazy affair empties a poem.
Croci will go wild. But you
want to wear a rainbow.
Your delicate arch of eyebrows
drains the tears.
Something was strange.
Breakwaters were melting away.
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 9:30 PM UTC
I sat between the breakwaters,
Watched the sea
Make its endless dance.
It needs no command,
No decision,
It has no vision
Of past or present,
Thinks not of tomorrow
For all are irrelevance.
The sea was
And is
And will ever be.
But for me
The dance will one day cease,
The music will stop and I shall be
Just a memory.
So I need to dance more
While I can,
Hear louder music than before,
Sing and be glad
For the days I am given
So the memory
Is of joy, not sorrow
And I’ll not think
Of tomorrow
Until it comes.
Sep 22, 2020
Sep 22, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
Malicious hearts will hurt the empath
As summer hurts the winter shore
Eroding buffers until burnout
Kind retreat, the only cure
--
End-of-summer beach
Seabirds’ shaky screech
Grey gulls too full to cry
Bin chooks too fat to fly
Sorry shoreline
Systems offline
Foot pounded
Rebounded
Flattened…
Shrub ripped
Wing clipped
Sand-sucked
Grass plucked
Party bruised
Cocktail-cruised
Cans on conches
Fish unconscious
Foam and flotsam
Wave-blind coxon
Soda can crab shacks
Neon pink algae tracks
Whelk shell graveyard
Absent lifeguard
**** platoons
Naked dunes
Cheapened
Weakened
Exposed…
Tidal hangover
Coastal leftover
Erosion potluck
Sitting sea-duck
Strong incoming storm surge
Winter solstice land purge
Quick and shifty beach thieves
Cyclone tempest mouth-breathes
Recalcitrant brackish aggressor
Intransigent briny transgressor
Suspensions of sediments modified
Walling and breakwaters compromised
Over, back, and whitewash makers
Bubble, rubble, boil and breakers
Weathered, not weathering
Tempered, not tempering
More block than gavel
More grave than gravel
All prisoner no guard
Grain short of a shard
Receding sand-line drift
Intensive shoreface-lift
Patient unresponsive
Highly hypertensive
Code cerulean blue…
Plant encouragement
Shoreline nourishment
Sand transplant
Grass implant
Healing hiatus
to homeostasis
Swell subsiding
King Tide presiding
Prince Neap succeeds
Warm court accedes
Managed realignment
Sanctuary assignment
Steadfast protections
Timid reconnections
Gentle, careful, soft,
and slow…
A new beach visitor
dips their toe
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 4:23 AM UTC