"diver" poems
nobody loses all the time
i had an uncle named
Sol who was a born failure and
nearly everybody said he should have gone
into vaudeville perhaps because my Uncle Sol could
sing McCann He Was A Diver on Xmas Eve like Hell Itself which
may or may not account for the fact that my Uncle
Sol indulged in that possibly most inexcusable
of all to use a highfalootin phrase
luxuries that is or to
wit farming and be
it needlessly
added
my Uncle Sol’s farm
failed because the chickens
ate the vegetables so
my Uncle Sol had a
chicken farm till the
skunks ate the chickens when
my Uncle Sol
had a skunk farm but
the skunks caught cold and
died and so
my Uncle Sol imitated the
skunks in a subtle manner
or by drowning himself in the watertank
but somebody who’d given my Uncle Sol a Victor
Victrola and records while he lived presented to
him upon the auspicious occasion of his decease a
scruptious not to mention splendiferous funeral with
tall boys in black gloves and flowers and everything and
i remember we all cried like the Missouri
when my Uncle Sol’s coffin lurched because
somebody pressed a button
(and down went
my Uncle
Sol
and started a worm farm)
132k
"I'm a mermaid," she said as she kissed me.
Ah! her kiss made me drunker than wine.
I'd been longing for the ocean in her blue eyes,
it was calling to the diver in mine.
She whispered, "I've got just a little bit of magic
from my home in this big blue lagoon--
join me tonight for a swim in the moonlight,
I'll make some magic for you."
The full moon was rising in Paradise
as I made my way down to the shore.
There I dove right into the water,
I just couldn't stand it anymore.
Here she comes, swimming up to meet me--
wraps her self around me like a glove.
As long as I live I never could tell
the magic of a mermaid in love.
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
Meet me here whenever you can.
The spell would be broken by sunrise,
but her "little bit of magic" was no lie.
We soared, freed by love, underwater,
free as two birds in the sky.
All too soon the sky began lightening,
the moon and the stars took their flight.
Our kisses were mingled with tears at the shoreline
where we promised to meet every night.
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
sharing your mysteries with me.
When I'm with you I can breathe underwater,
and swim beside you under the sea.
If I could stay here under the surface,
I would never go back to dry land!
Goddess of the crystal blue ocean,
make me a real merman.
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 7:13 PM UTC
The memory of you emerges from the night around me.
The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea.
Deserted like the dwarves at dawn.
It is the hour of departure, oh deserted one!
Cold flower heads are raining over my heart.
Oh pit of debris, fierce cave of the shipwrecked.
In you the wars and the flights accumulated.
From you the wings of the song birds rose.
You swallowed everything, like distance.
Like the sea, like time. In you everything sank!
It was the happy hour of assault and the kiss.
The hour of the spell that blazed like a lighthouse.
Pilot's dread, fury of blind driver,
turbulent drunkenness of love, in you everything sank!
In the childhood of mist my soul, winged and wounded.
Lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
You girdled sorrow, you clung to desire,
sadness stunned you, in you everything sank!
I made the wall of shadow draw back,
beyond desire and act, I walked on.
Oh flesh, my own flesh, woman whom I loved and lost,
I summon you in the moist hour, I raise my song to you.
Like a jar you housed infinite tenderness.
and the infinite oblivion shattered you like a jar.
There was the black solitude of the islands,
and there, woman of love, your arms took me in.
There was thirst and hunger, and you were the fruit.
There were grief and ruins, and you were the miracle.
Ah woman, I do not know how you could contain me
in the earth of your soul, in the cross of your arms!
How terrible and brief my desire was to you!
How difficult and drunken, how tensed and avid.
Cemetery of kisses, there is still fire in your tombs,
still the fruited boughs burn, pecked at by birds.
Oh the bitten mouth, oh the kissed limbs,
oh the hungering teeth, oh the entwined bodies.
Oh the mad coupling of hope and force
in which we merged and despaired.
And the tenderness, light as water and as flour.
And the word scarcely begun on the lips.
This was my destiny and in it was my voyage of my longing,
and in it my longing fell, in you everything sank!
Oh pit of debris, everything fell into you,
what sorrow did you not express, in what sorrow are you not drowned!
From billow to billow you still called and sang.
Standing like a sailor in the prow of a vessel.
You still flowered in songs, you still brike the currents.
Oh pit of debris, open and bitter well.
Pale blind diver, luckless slinger,
lost discoverer, in you everything sank!
It is the hour of departure, the hard cold hour
which the night fastens to all the timetables.
The rustling belt of the sea girdles the shore.
Cold stars heave up, black birds migrate.
Deserted like the wharves at dawn.
Only tremulous shadow twists in my hands.
Oh farther than everything. Oh farther than everything.
It is the hour of departure. Oh abandoned one!
14.2k
I am the entourage
Of a fantastic mirage
I am the agent
Of my mind's figment
I am a believer
Of mythical creatures
I am a builder
Of splendid architecture
I am a drunkard
Tripping on futures so absurd
I plan construction
Of my own destruction
I am the feeder
To dreams of grandeur
I am a magician
Of wild, potent concoctions
I am a tycoon
Of emotional typhoons
I am an adept
Skilled in exploiting concepts
I am a parasite
Brandishing fangs that bite
I play host
To a monstrous, hideous ghost
I am an addict
Of thoughts derelict
I am the dreamer
Incapable of anything lesser
I am a diver
Sinking deeper and deeper
I am an insatiable thief
Claiming trophies without grief
I am an emotional hermit
Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit
I am a weaver
Fabricating tales that meander
I am a Neanderthal
Adopting behaviours and habits that appall
I am an ape
Mending wounds that gape
I am but me
I'm blind, fighting to see
I am rhymesmith
I lie through my teeth
Getting hard to breathe
Heart to words, I seethe...
Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
As I walked out one evening,
Walking down Bristol Street,
The crowds upon the pavement
Were fields of harvest wheat.
And down by the brimming river
I heard a lover sing
Under an arch of the railway:
"Love has no ending.
"I'll love you, dear, I'll love you
Till China and Africa meet,
And the river jumps over the mountain
And the salmon sing in the street,
"I'll love you till the ocean
Is folded and hung up to dry
And the seven stars go squawking
Like geese about the sky.
"The years shall run like rabbits,
For in my arms I hold
The Flower of the Ages,
And the first love of the world."
But all the clocks in the city
Began to whirr and chime:
"O let not Time deceive you,
You cannot conquer Time.
"In the burrows of the Nightmare
Where Justice naked is,
Time watches from the shadow
And coughs when you would kiss.
"In headaches and in worry
Vaguely life leaks away,
And Time will have his fancy
To-morrow or to-day.
"Into many a green valley
Drifts the appalling snow;
Time breaks the threaded dances
And the diver's brilliant bow.
"O plunge your hands in water,
Plunge them in up to the wrist;
Stare, stare in the basin
And wonder what you've missed.
"The glacier knocks in the cupboard,
The desert sighs in the bed,
And the crack in the tea-cup opens
A lane to the land of the dead.
"Where the beggars raffle the banknotes
And the Giant is enchanting to Jack,
And the Lily-white Boy is a Roarer,
And Jill goes down on her back.
"O look, look in the mirror?
O look in your distress:
Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless.
"O stand, stand at the window
As the tears scald and start;
You shall love your crooked neighbour
With your crooked heart."
It was late, late in the evening,
The lovers they were gone;
The clocks had ceased their chiming,
And the deep river ran on.
9.4k
Spirit awakens
rises slowly from the depths
riding the steam
Colombian roast
dancing
Malian rhythms
caught in the air
_breathe in_
tenth-floor Westpark
northern coast
southern isle
Time is a ticking oyster
and This
dazzling, lazy morning
her mother-of-pearl
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 2:19 AM UTC
Always which the Human in me surpass
When Trite Reunion comes to much Expect
Between us, Birth-Father, the Heart must last
And configure our Values circumspect
After seeing those skinned neighbours battle
And DAD the Inspiration I preserve
Comes your Striking Counsel; Which I rattle
And reimburse the Love you so deserve
But, if Favour pleads, renew the Bald Man
Whose Birthdate his Arm's Course Affection share
Teach this Tanned Diver; To widen his span
Knowing such Open Hands breed Anywhere.
Circles are Dangerous, if Minds are locked
He needs to KNOW that; From his own Best Hug.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 3:15 AM UTC
See, it’s more of a… hypnosis,
A deep slumber of an everlasting fantasy. Trust me, I love it.
Like a whisk into a different parallel world
Filled with flashing colors that swirl and twirl, in fact,
kind of similar to a dress on a ballroom floor.
Not just any ballroom floor though.
No, this, like Van Gogh’s Starry Night
a masterpiece that cannot be replicated,
and to step foot on it is one of careful deep sea excitement
I wish to step there.
However, I am a tad ungraceful
and my feet are about as elegant as a scuba diver’s flippers.
So I might just impersonate one
and dive deep into the sea of the unknown and secret homes
hoping it delivers an innate whisper of the anticipation, the excitement
of this hypnotic, starry world.
Deeper I go, into this never ending oceanic abyss
With the darkness just as tongue twisting as it gets
Looking for something, anything,
to salvage my reason for going this deep, this late,
Because I have a tendency to procrastinate about the tasks most essential to my fate.
But, if you want, you can accompany me
and we can scuba dive together
into the deep sea of the not yet discovered and shining beacons of wonder
And if we’re lucky, we might find the lost city of Atlantis.
And while we’re there we can search and search for the spoils and riches of the hidden majesty
and wouldn't it be just lovely if we find a treasure chest, something?
With an eye for design we can admire it’s beauty
but we have to open it
because that’s the secret in the treasure.
To open it.
And the contents are the spoils.
Open it.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
84
Her breast is fit for pearls,
But I was not a “Diver”—
Her brow is fit for thrones
But I have not a crest.
Her heart is fit for home—
I—a Sparrow—build there
Sweet of twigs and twine
My perennial nest.
5.9k
We catch the sunset
while eating
breakfast: ignoring
mothers, ignoring
landlords, skinning our knees
and skipping supper,
using the kitchen with some
improvisation, forgetting to stir
the pasta, blotting bacon
with coffee filters,
flinging linguini on the walls
and the ceilings (for
if cooked it will cling
but if raw it will fall).
“Is that pasta on the wall?”
“Is it purple?”
Outside a boy
in a dress shirt and a girl in
a paisley skirt walked past
the window, holding hands
and clutching palm
Sunday leaves.
Then the strand of linguini
began to detach itself from
the ceiling, like a break dancer,
with flimsy limbs,
and when it dropped
it fell through the air
like an Olympic
diver, twirling and curling
with two ends clung
to one another
and then unfolding
underwater.
Aug 5, 2011
Aug 5, 2011 at 1:01 AM UTC
I put on my aqua-lung and dive,
Exploring there I see a giant tortoise plunge to the coral reef,
Just missing a lonely lobster gliding across the sand.
I hide from a fearsome shark, sniffing the water for blood.
A crawling crayfish scuttles away.
I come to an angry octopus squirting its enemy with ink.
Swaying seaweed hide sleeping starfish.
A fluttering flounder quickly swims by in pursuit of a sliding seal.
But too soon the bitter cold wraps around me like a blanket and pulls me to the surface.
Back to the ordinary world.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 10:23 AM UTC
A scuba diver, head first like a dolphin,
goes in to the ocean, 100 feet down
in semi-darkness finds this apparition
something beautiful to behold in motion,
really really big and mysterious it appears
gliding gracefully spewing wonderment,
inviting reverence from all kinds of marine life
Clearly apologetic, for being out of place,
though he has encroached, in to a world
though not far from the sea surface,
yet in a depth where human has no place
all his scientific temper got evaporated
a simple villager now, gripped by wonder.
All he could think of anyone
fitting in to such magnificence
was God Almighty,himself.
"How do you do God?" he stutters,
aware that in plankton filled darkness
the mighty man is at the mercy of
the behemoth, looming large above.
The phenomenon in question,
***** whale"as we know him,
smiles and burps happily "Fantastic"
then he dives 6000 feet down, looking
for a colossal squid, succulent to be sure
the whole reason for him to play God
at this depth for sea creatures that lose
bearing in the haze of challenging depths.
Mar 12, 2016
Mar 12, 2016 at 5:59 AM UTC
Scandal and Silence the Theme of the Night
When his Dive scorned my Innocence with him
The Endearing One was there - Red in sight,
Marking the Troll for his Disgusting Whim
Which I would agree if Extent permits
The Mirror crying my Conscience to wake
Trust, at my Pocket; Honesty, at brim
And a Cloud condensing to form this Lake
Now fill Evaporation's Time with Blood,
Squeezing the Hour we need to amend:
****** Holy, Smug Lot! Gossip's Cot Krug!
And whatever ******* left at Tar's Bend!"
Aye. Folly Love-Haskins takes one a-craze
And left the Diver-Boy swimming at maze.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Plunging beneath the surface
And as it all finally settles
So does silence
Being broken only by the sound of my breath
The bubbles bursting from my lips
Tentatively stagger toward the surface
I go deeper
As far as I can before my breath runs out
Toward an inaccessible deep blueness
Where a whole new world awaits me
Out of reach from the shimmering luster above
Past the rigid rocks
Moving gently forward
A school of shiny fish scatters at my arrival
The seaweed dances around
Ensnaring any foolish enough to wander too close
I’m running out of air
The time is too short
Back to where I’m from
Beyond the wild and beautifully unexplored world below me
I am wistful to part
Because time
Is what makes it so special
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 8:22 PM UTC
I
Half of the fellow father as he doubles
His sea-sucked Adam in the hollow hulk,
Half of the fellow mother as she dabbles
To-morrow's diver in her ***** milk,
Bisected shadows on the thunder's bone
Bolt for the salt unborn.
The fellow half was frozen as it bubbled
Corrosive spring out of the iceberg's crop,
The fellow seed and shadow as it babbled
The swing of milk was tufted in the pap,
For half of love was planted in the lost,
And the unplanted ghost.
The broken halves are fellowed in a *******
The crutch that marrow taps upon their sleep,
Limp in the street of sea, among the rabble
Of tide-tongued heads and bladders in the deep,
And stake the sleepers in the savage grave
That the vampire laugh.
The patchwork halves were cloven as they scudded
The wild pigs' wood, and slime upon the trees,
******* the dark, kissed on the cyanide,
And loosed the braiding adders from their hairs,
Rotating halves are horning as they drill
The arterial angel.
What colour is glory? death's feather? tremble
The halves that pierce the pin's point in the air,
And ***** the thumb-stained heaven through the thimble.
The ghost is dumb that stammered in the straw,
The ghost that hatched his havoc as he flew
Blinds their cloud-tracking eye.
II
My world is pyramid. The padded mummer
Weeps on the desert ochre and the salt
Incising summer.
My Egypt's armour buckling in its sheet,
I scrape through resin to a starry bone
And a blood parhelion.
My world is cypress, and an English valley.
I piece my flesh that rattled on the yards
Red in an Austrian volley.
I hear, through dead men's drums, the riddled lads,
******** their bowels from a hill of bones,
Cry Eloi to the guns.
My grave is watered by the crossing Jordan.
The Arctic scut, and basin of the South,
Drip on my dead house garden.
Who seek me landward, marking in my mouth
The straws of Asia, lose me as I turn
Through the Atlantic corn.
The fellow halves that, cloven as they swivel
On casting tides, are tangled in the shells,
Bearding the unborn devil,
Bleed from my burning fork and smell my heels.
The tongue's of heaven gossip as I glide
Binding my angel's hood.
Who blows death's feather? What glory is colour?
I blow the stammel feather in the vein.
The **** is glory in a working pallor.
My clay unsuckled and my salt unborn,
The secret child, I sift about the sea
Dry in the half-tracked thigh.
3.9k
At last these Plums took the Daughter in Kind
From Lord Raffles' Paradise she adored
A Marriage of Saints she thought to remind
Though behind her Door was Melancholy.
But who a Pony-Child in Fashion's New
Could taste the Recipe she may not like?
Clotted Cream? Or Fish in the River-View
Tore through the Muddy Dress to greet her Delight
This is not the Age, Tories of the West
To switch on Lights dimmed for your Books to read
She is a Sweet-Tooth; Or Filmer at best
Just give her a Spoon; She makes one Great Mead.
She is my Friend. And the Plum's Diver Son
Rewarded a Follow never un-done.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
I have trouble at high altitudes
and I can't run more than a few steps without tiring
I'm a dancer but I gasp for air after
every performance
and my mouth tastes of pennies
I will never climb Mt. Everest
or smoke a single cigarette
I will not live in Beijing or own a cat
or be a deep sea diver
the best thing
they will ever do for me
is whisper your name
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 6:06 PM UTC
I am a diver
My being,a vast and majestic ocean
Outside,beautiful ,glimmering,shimmering,and dynamic
Serene ,somber and smooth,constantly in motion
From inside,an abyss deep dark ,strong and fearful at times
Often mystical peaceful and intriguing, a calming notion.
Whenever free and possible ,alone and faraway from outside
Putting on the suit of my soul,I dive deep into my inner self
Relaxing my mind,eyes closed,shallow but calming breaths
I explore deeper and deeper,as an audacity to discover all.
All that REALLY LIES in these unfathomably magnificent depths
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
left from misplaced lovers
lead many different lives
capture the trinkets and
hide them in the bottom
drawer until spring
cleaning once a year
a time capsule of could haves
and should haves
in the heat of the dual
we want to pass the necklace
to his hand or drop it like
a love note floating into
a grand canyon
swimming in the deep blue
of blue jean pockets
until a deep sea diver
finds the treasure
selling the metal for some
change will not put a red
sold sign on his forehead
for another to take away
i put the key to my heart
on a chain under my pillow
so i will not lose it while
you are away
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 1:53 PM UTC
you taste like candy
and i am starving and swallowing your tricks
i dreamt of a greasy hotel and
a box to sleep in.
i am not a cannibal,
i am not a sky diver
& and i am not a pilgrim,
but i hunger for your body
and i'm falling for your holy curves.
i will hang from your window and dance in the sunlight
even though i am not a pink velvet curtain.
i am a garbage-collector poet,
fresh from the allabaster market
who has found the words once lost
in a dark fox hole
near the bend of a lazily flowing river.
all i need is a dime and a glass vase,
a short story and a wet cigarette.
i've come back to town--i climbed right out of that stop sign
standing on a shotgun bullet-holed volkswagon
with a 7 day hangover
holding burning grace in my hands and you say
"lead me to the garbage"
carrying with you a bag of soggy french fries
and i stop to show you a dying tulip,
and we watch as it floats into a cloud.
we'll hide all our money in a glowing furnace
and as i try to write this with a water logged pen
you show me pictures of shirley temple with her head in a noose.
my name is not moses, and i do not want to be remembered.
Jan 24, 2012
Jan 24, 2012 at 10:40 AM UTC
The Trail of Tears we Sturdy Braves must face
Shows the Lone Star Maiden who won his Cause
Celebrate! Even Defeat sings your Praise
Now our Songs extract Victory from Loss
Just how Darling Painful this News must be
Which Fifty Swords stab our Sole Hearts intact
We are Respectful here; Just wait and see
If this Edict of Worries paint us Black
This is NOT the Way! My Promise to You
Even though you know me not from Adam
I am a Cowboy mighty Honest and True
West Traditions unite: Godspeed, my Madam!
Look, Diver Boy! The Medal on your Neck
Scowls at your Value and asks you to Relfect.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
In parlance of the street he's a dumpster-diver,
scavenger of non-losing wager or proposition tickets.
You'd see his fragile frame each night
walking the isles of the race and sports books,
a condor's aerial eye trained on the floor,
back visible only to casino surveillance cameras.
Seated atop a barstool at the back,
I watch him bend, examine and discard,
through the prism of my scotch glass.
Every food chain has its bottom-feeders,
he brings efficiency to the gambling ecosystem.
Likely not the life that you or I would chose,
but then he has no monthly credit card to pay.
Just now, I saw him straighten and smile,
a parlay ticket will pay for tonight's meal
with just enough left for a brown-bag.
He does not go uninvited to misfortune,
the streets tonight are lined with chance's down.
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
My emotions roll with the tide,
Toe tip dip,
Into the blue,
The cold dark liquid,
Seeps inside.
My hair turns to the creatures,
Of the big deep,
All of their poison
Rapidly seeps.
Sea salt water enters my lungs,
Gently squeezing,
And halting
My slow breathing,
Years from here,
I'll reach the troughs,
But what if this ending
Isn't enough?
My skin a crustation,
Water baby
Can't swim,
Let the ocean compress me,
****** me from within.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
He's a bit of a diddeler
but more of a fiddler
as he scampers about the shoreline
He's a bit of a digger
and fast as a trigger
try to catch one, I tell you it's hard
He's a real survivor
a deep sea diver
when food is scarce on the beach
He never looks bored
shaking that extra large claw
I hope he's not looking for a fight
oh fiddle de de
please come to me
my fast footed friend, fiddler crab.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis
By NeonSolaris
© 2008 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 4:22 PM UTC