Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jonathan Moya Feb 2021
Never summon the evil whales forth
lest they hunger for a salt’s ******
or seek to ravage their ship.

They cry out havoc, scream tempest
to the ocean and sky
so the illhveli hear not their name.

Their harpooned blubber
boils neither to heaven nor hell
but vanishes only inside the soul.

They fear only the steypireydurs
the Great Blue Behemoths,
the protectors of sailors and crafts.

The salts’ wives smell the devil in their remnants
and to keep the fury at bay they call
their men honeyed names clothed in peace.

The mates consign this sweetness
to the void, a sea of faceless women
to be left alone in their slumbers.  

At dawn, they  return
to the great wide green ocean
that hungers for their flesh.

They chum cowshed, yarrows, ash,
throw plowshares, axes and pots creating
a sacred din outside the incarnadine circles.

Cat Whales would come forth
with their devil-angel flukes
half in sun and watery dark.

They mewl alongside,
resting in the craft’s wake,
diving when the waters darkened  

And the roar of Bull Whales spouting loudly  
through their blowholes would scare
the distant  cattle to stampede the waters.

The Ox Whales, swimming
faster than hand and mind,
would devour the calves

Leaving only nibbles
for the belugas that trailed
behind in white silence.  

Bottlenose Dolphins after herding
the Ox Whales beyond the spray
would jump straight high

out of the water
exposing the sun and mountains
appearing underneath them.  

In the rest between breaths
a Taumur awaited beneath their crafts
for the opportunity to break them apart.

On the glint of the horizon a Ling Whale
drifting like a mirage of barnacles
waited to maroon them on her hide.

Today, the Great Blue Behemoth
heard their anguish and would gently
guide them back to their sandy, rocky home.  

In their unsteady slumbers
they would hitch a ride
on the back of a Heatherback

And dive with it
to the ocean’s floor until
their last bubbles floated up.

Around them all the dorsal waves
of the Sword Whale splashed them
while she sliced them in two.

Far away, the Narwhale sniffed
their blood in the water and
waited her turn to eat.
Cecilia Chaos Aug 22
Imagination
Imagination is a rainbow unicorn
Running across the ocean
Toward a ship
A ship with a large dark sail
With a skull and crossbones
On the ship a captain orders his mates around.
Down below the deck is a group of deck hands
Plotting to overthrow the captain
A cannon goes off
Shooting a hole into the bottom of the ship
As the ship starts to sink
A narwhale swims by quickly
Being chased by something much bigger

Imagination is the expanse of space
The emptiness around our small planet
Wondering what might be beyond that emptiness

Imagination is the ability to take
A shape or a letter and turn it into something
Pleasing to the eye
The ability turn a circle into a moon
Above a dark mountain range
Reflected in a still dark lake
The stars sparkle around the moon creating
A calming scenery.

Imagination is the ability to
Turn a simple three sided polygon
Into a volcano
an angry volcano quaking and building up gas
When suddenly with a boom
The volcano has met its limit
The top is blown off
Bright orange magma
Spills out of the opening
Rolling down the sides of the mountain
Like giant red tears
Raining down onto the empty village below.

Imagination is the ability
To take a mercifully straight line
And make it a road
On which a car rides
In the car a family sits
Smiles go all around
Christmas songs are sung at the top of lungs
A tree strapped to the top of the car
Presents are wrapped in the back
Children bounce in their seats with excitement
Excitement over the coming holiday

Imagination is a cloud
A cloud shaped like a small fish
Under which a rainbow stretches
A pink fluffy bunny bounces past a candy cottage
A unicorn grazes gracefully nearby
A field of rainbow flowers stretch over the hills
A crystal forest grows by a chocolate river.

Imagination is endless
Imagination is anything and everything
Imagination.
Something I wrote for school a while back. I was really proud of it then and I still am now.

— The End —