"limpets" poems
I am sat
In a tight picnic circle
Laid on the grey sand
I am a crusted seashell,
I am the limpets which cling to my skin
Like a sunken chest
The waves and sea gulls call
For each other and the cold
In the distance. The swimmers. The Irish
Sea and the Irish cold
Whistling,
The sea and the clouds
You are the froth
Flowing through my lungs like a white
Feather fallen from the sky
Silent
And dry
The rock's green hair swaying
The wind strikes the eye
Like a splash
And decays with
The grace of a coffin
For me the reeds have born their fruit
They stab the naked
Skin, you are still
Sleeping on your side
In the tent
You are still beautiful
Within, soon the ***** will unfold
And we shall embrace
The sea and her sons
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
Never have a mermaid as a girlfriend
it is a deep sea fishy affair
she may have golden hair with silver limpets
yet she never dons any underwear
The times I take her out for picnics
it always has to be by the sea
and whilst I make sandy cucumber sandwiches
she is playing with her mates, alone she leaves me
I hate her to get into a flap
for her tail is wet and very strong
so as her land loving boyfriend
who loves her, I just have to go along
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 4:36 PM UTC
Cold and closed, each green
tidal lull lingers over rocks.
A line of pelicans heads home.
Before you arrived, days passed slower.
Th salt-grass, the anemone
blossom in cycles set up by the moon.
I wait like a spring tide.
Photos will prove changes
happen in increments.
Birds wait for sand *****
limpets, littoral fish.
You practice naming each in order.
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 10:17 PM UTC
The mosquitoes supped histamine limpets into our puckered flesh
dew gilted grass entombed our feet in dappled domes
refracting the overhead fireworks
smears of whirling color
accented by smoke mote ghosts
I forgot to wear my contacts
my near-sightedness
makes you giggle nervously -
a hard full body ****** of a laugh
it arches your spine
pulling our hand-holding into an expansion
only the lining betwixt finger inlets
galvanized our pulse
well, that and your voltaic laugh
its flourishing timbre
resonant
reverberant pyrotechnic
thickly glazing aural canal
lascivious tomes penned themselves
densely
upon neural plane
dendrites imprinting chemical insignia
moment captured in impressionistic blurs
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 8:35 PM UTC
Lord Neptune's daughters
sit fast to their rocks
like Grotesque limpets
singing their songs to the sea
for the sirens sing for blood
that of warm blood of mariners
To the howl of the wind
and the dreadful din
as waves crash onto this hell
many ****** are tossed abound
then commence to run aground
onto beaches of razor sharp shells
Hideous screams of victory
echo over this foul land
and these wretches of piscine descent
now feed on the carcass of man.
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Foaming waves roll in from the sea
And explode into millions of droplets
Creating rainbows
The lone figure on the beach
Observes the endless cycle
Of ebb and flow
Mesmerized by the force of nature
Eating away at the rocks
And cascading back into the sea
Eight-legged ***** and five-pointed stars
Limpets clinging to the rock
Undisturbed by the crashing waters
A dead jellyfish on the beach
Sends odors of decay
Into the nostrils of the only human
Within sight
The cry of the gulls
Disturb the blissful trance
Eyes turned skyward
To watch the winged creatures
Fighting to stay on course
The winds however have no such issues
Unconcerned about the fate of the birds
A determined cry – success
Safety on a ledge
The being on the beach
Seemingly forlorn
Digs wrinkled toes into cool sand
Watching a ship
Sailing off the horizon
Blissful
The rays of the sun on chilled skin
Drinking in the warmth
The clouds above
Playfully chase each other
Never catching up
Not even wanting to
They see no need for competition
Those tufts of white vapor
Just are what they are
And always will be
The being on the beach is
Lost in thoughts
Wondering
Who it is
What it is and why
Deriving comfort
From the tales of the clouds
The sea and the wind
Knowing that its ponderings
Are of no importance
To anyone else
And that it is and always will be
Infinite creation
Bude, July 19th, 2010
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
Sea shore
Your wonders are immense
Shells starfish sand and sideways scampering ***** .
My eyes are full of your magnificence
Jelly fish stranded seaweed crunch.
My thoughts are dancing in your glory
Stones skeletons and sea potatoes
My feet crunch under your feasting table
Oyster shells winkles mussels and whelks limpets cockles .
My mind sings with
Story's washed up on the beach ,boots plastic bottles rubber gloves .
I will be back too delight my senses in
driftwood rafts , mingled in too the glory of a new story .
I will never bore while walking a new shore .
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 5:30 AM UTC
i think. i think the trees are thinking.
i think
the
tre
es
a
R
e thinking
OCTOBER
?
they say death. and they wear it. and they ware it.
and.
it's yellow talking on the gnarled limpets breathing
from their bruising trunks. suckling my apt pupils
discharging lovely decay in my small
pocket of teeth and thoughts and veins. they,re an ******
of crunching golden mort
i walk through its delicious corpse
and i take her.
i take here. this is:
YES
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 11:24 AM UTC
*"The ocean is a desert
with its life underground
and a perfect disguise
above..." Dewey Bunnell*
On a horse with
no name I rode
bare-backed in
the purple sage...
***** Pipe cacti
played the melodies
of Mexico.
Swaying sea grasses
were skirts for the
range fences...
broken and rusty.
To be avoided,
my parents warned...
Tetanus... lock-jaw.
Other things to be
aware of...
don't swim too far
from the beach...
don't stay too long
in the sun...
I was happy at the
tide pools... aqua and
pristine. Sea slugs...
far from slug-like.
Flat and purplish
with frilly edges,
undulating dancers.
Picked up and dropped
over and over.
Baby octopi... an
entire tidepool
drenched in purple
ink in its desperate
bid for freedom...
Sea Urchins...
"Their spines can
**** my parents
warned. It was
fascinating how
they attached
themselves to
the rocks...
Almost as firmly
as the limpets...
We had
Hermit Crab races
Ate food disallowed
at home... swam
out to where water
was ultramarine...
jumped over the
barbed-wire...
with our arms
hugging
the
sun...
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/21/2017
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 5:39 AM UTC
Opinions formed on popular belief,
Uninformed campaigns,
Self-destructive protests,
An anger born from hatred that won't fade,
Right intentions fall prey to tricksters,
Success assumed too soon,
Life boiled down to laws that need to change,
But people are set in firmer stone,
And even when their petty arguments and outrage
Is chipped away, they cling on to their rock,
Judgement, greed, distorted views,
Cling like limpets to a ship's hull,
And shallow words barely nudge at their shells,
Our minds are set too soon,
Stubbornness fills us like concrete,
Holding back generations.
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
There is alchemy in Blackbird song
an opal paean through early doors
of infant sensing
Sprung limpets of the broad leaf crowns,
Will, heliacal, from chimney spires,
A crocus bowl of canticles
unwritten in the Latin blush.
of uncorrupted eloquence.
There is prophecy in blackbird song
from red Victoriana glance
those rippled satin auguries.
Sloe philharmonic oracles
untie the mellow chords of rest,
to sing as they have always sung
in allegories of days to come
beyond the headstone houses.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Trembling I lift the curtain
To let in the morning lightly
Time has taken away its beauty
Falsing the temperature down
And I cannot stem the flowing.
I’d found culture in my youth
Explosively exciting ,excruciating
In its weapons of desiring dressage
But now the limpets cling to a soul
Holding high the corsets of a cage.
love Mary
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 2:01 AM UTC