"salmons" poems
as a Pisces, I am swimming upstream,
the salmons last run.
fighting, pulling to grip those soft
rocks beneath.
those beasts that keep some stuck.
salmon are based in diversity
needing to have a wide gene
pool, as their kin die quickly
from those rocks.
getting stuck, swimming around and around…
insanity defined,
and time doesn't stop.
so, to the work.
swimming up stream,
dedicated to being a mother.
creator, incubator.
children
stored in the belly of the beast.
preparing to break free,
be set alive, to roam free.
the wombs embrace,
the face of LOVE.
currents of the calls
are so loud, rushing past my gills.
I feel the whooshing sound,
the pressure bearing down, taunting
me out.
calling me out… are you sure,
are you confident?
constant tests to check
and check and check for missteps.
ones that feel out of step.
no more time for those.
the path is clear,
yet
the water is cold,
bearing down on my scales built,
molded for this.
built in this system of birth and death.
choosing each step from above.
below, here I feel at home and
I feel ME breaking out.
she's broken out, there will be clouds,
rain, thunder all the things.
let
it be.
and the beast is free, she
has descended, dug down deep,
anchored, prepared for reception.
just like the trees, they grow so well
with others.
interdependently nourishing the diversity.
Feb 5, 2016
Feb 5, 2016 at 5:34 AM UTC
Every good thing shall happen...
like Friday nights and party rush
surprise calls from a long-time crush
auburn leaves and a cup of tea
cozy couch and a good movie
a sweet embrace, granted wishes
locked up hands, friendly kisses
perfect music, fireworks galore
passionate poetry, books in store
skinny-dipping, pineapple juice
mountaineering, romantic cruise
stick-it notes and scented letters
white rose petals and silver glitters
dusty slip-on and faded pantaloons
sweetened berries and tasty prunes
smooth raps and slow rock hits
magnetic charm and awesome wits
11:11 verses and chicken bones
starry night skies, pebbles and stones
a perfect score, crispy pizza crust
locks and highlights, passionate lust
skirts and pumps, pictures of us
Halloween treats and wedding fuss
hot cappuccino, jam and jelly
first paycheck, winning the lottery
chocolate mousse, ice cold drinks
ocean waves, seductive winks
silk and laces, laughs after cries
cool car drifting and belly butterflies
left hand scribbles, messy hair buns
Oakley goggles and water guns
funny jokes, late night talks
rainy days, twilight walks
flickering lights, vintage cars
logs in swamps and monkey bars
a hopeful daybreak, latte aroma
fogged up glasses, squeaky veranda
carnation in bloom, warm summer breeze
slow ********** trimmed cypress trees
naughty kiddie play, blindfolds and tricks
mistletoe and acorns, fresh and fancy kicks
baked salmons and grilled corn
ending fights and a newborn
free-verse poetry, an orchestral song
a stranger's smile, a dancing throng
finishing a novel, Luna's glow
binding friendships, December snow
but the best thing for me, I'd like you to know
is to tell you finally that I Love You So.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 11:41 PM UTC
I AND YOU
ON THE TIP OF THE LEAF SWINGING AS THE DEW DROP
AS THE SUN-BEAM TO FILL ME WITH THE SPECTRUM OF LIFE
WONDERFUL DREAMS---
A COUPLET OF SALMONS WAVING FINS
WITH ALL THE VIGOUR OF PASSION SWIMMING UPSTREAM
A PAIR OF DOVES PIERCING THE WINDS
PASSING THROUGH THE PUFFY CLOUDS OF DESIRE
GREY REALITIES---
I AM BEING FORCED TO BE THE ISOLATION
IN THE AQUARIUM OF YOUR DRAWING ROOM
I AM BEING FORCED TO BE THE TIMIDITY
IN THE CAGE HANGING TO YOUR BALCONY
A TRANSPARENT WALL IN BETWEEN YOU AND ME!
ARE OUR DREAMS-- ONLY TO DREAM IN HALLUCINATION?
ARE OUR REALITIES-- ONLY TO PAVE OUR IMAGINATION?
YOU TOO ARE THE VICTIM--
A VICTIM CONFINED IN THE MASK OF "THE HUSBAND"
A LOOSER OF HUMANE PARTNER IN THE ETHOS OF "MANHOOD"
HOW TO BREATH THE FREEDOM-?-
IF DREAMS ARE NOT RESPECTED!
RESPECT OUR DREAMS---
RESPECT MY WOMANHOOD--- I DO RESPECT YOU MY MAN !!!
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 9:51 AM UTC
In November early, I planted a yew,
Stately, golden under Pagan moon,
It's fibers I laid into moist dark soil
And set her proudly in foggy shawl.
Needles sparking into everlasting air,
Green and gold under mantle of sun,
Wisdom staggered, grounded so fair,
Bark, red knowledge of salmons' run.
Before six moons had turned down,
Her needles fell out of limbs frozen,
By wind and rains ***** unclothed—
Sun-clad boughs now fodder to moon.
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 6:31 PM UTC
It starts with eyes watching the forecast,
watching the fog or clouds mass,
overhead.
The muscles, the glutes they hurt when,
you do anything or nothing,
oh well.
If you sit if you kneel with your weight on
your heels, watch how you
place your bare hand or any
knuckle, asphalt with texture ... bites.
On to creating she
began day two, the
centerpiece was done
now a border to do,
twelve
peach and gold salmons
swimming in an asphalt blue
as blue as the ocean nearby.
The artist chooses some red, some peach,
some gold, some defining black, and
two types of blue to her art she stays true.
This cat had found
"the purr-fect spot"
people ooowed and
people aaawed again
and again over her,
but try as she might,
she could not wait any
longer,
only if her will was
stronger,
she ate a fish, anyway,
right to the bones.
She is done, the artist I mean,
f i f t e e n h o u r s, bent and
contorted, leaning and standing,
oh and the painting well...
purr-fect of course, we will be
back next year, with many more
artists as the Festival will grow,
thanks to the great job by all
volunteers
Can you see the slight
smile on her cat face,
the glint in those eyes,
like she owns the place,
she is content to stay the night,
by morning she is off to appraise,
better grounds for catching fish!
©DWE092013
Sep 16, 2013
Sep 16, 2013 at 10:57 PM UTC
What are you supposed to do when you return to a ghost town?
Do you walk among the dead, pretending to belong,
breathing from a straw as you watch the shallow water rush over your senses:
filling your ears with the same white noise you tried so hard to run away from,
bombarding your mouth and consuming the space your voice would perch before it decided to fly,
making your gaze so blurred you're never sure exactly how shallow you've become or how far you've sunk,
wrinkling your fingerprints and numbing everything but the constant rushing of a thin layer of blue silk,
you cling to the memory of the tulips you paused to smell as it's replaced with the eerie aroma of copper…
but that straw, those frantic shallow breaths, is all that keeps you from floating along the stream of sleepwalkers that litter this town.
This valley is a cage and every tunnel you see makes your heart whisper
"You're almost there."
In a city where nothing stretches for the ever-clear postcard sky
except the fumes of the local factory,
the people crawl between city blocks whose red lights
cast a net crafted for salmons at narcissistic sardines.
The suburbs are quiet on school nights, at weekend's dusk, in holiday's dawn.
Teenagers who have lost interest in the quiet are up late either coughing up ****** or SAT scores,
all searching for a heartbeat they forgot how to feel,
straws protruding from their lips like unlit cigarettes.
Their eyes are cloudy, pupils expanded, the whites bulging with pulsing red rivers, delving deep into a landscape the world forgot.
They shuffle next to you, faces purple from the lack of oxygen, but they'll never say so because
haven't you heard?
the walking dead tend to eat the living.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
.
In November early, I planted a yew,
Stately, golden under Pagan moon,
It's fibers I laid into moist dark soil
And set her proudly in foggy shawl.
Needles sparking into everlasting air,
Green and gold under mantle of sun,
Wisdom staggered, grounded so fair,
Bark, red knowledge of salmons' run.
Before six moons had turned down,
Her needles fell out of limbs frozen,
By wind and rains ***** unclothed—
Sun-clad boughs now fodder to moon.
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
the dusty repetitions dull and flashing
down, down the far descending paths
what became, what became of the
fiery gaze piercing through thickets
stifling, words shuffled upon hesitance
as the last foot falls echoed through
the quiet lands, where the grass
grew into golden straws and once
tranquil heavens now streaked like
a zebra's hide, wispy clouds flashing
of terrible lightening strikes as
fireflies rumbles across the morning skies,
bathed in the slant of yellow light I step
far into the past where the hands were still
unspoiled and now I rejoice with the bluejays
and dashing salmons fighting a rigid tide,
don't, don't I know what may transpire to see
of the days which my breath can release
without the weight of a helpless fear to seize
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
In November early, I planted a yew,
Stately, golden under Pagan moon,
It's fibers I laid into moist dark soil
And set her proudly in foggy shawl.
Needles sparking into everlasting air,
Green and gold under mantle of sun,
Wisdom staggered, grounded so fair,
Bark, red knowledge of salmons' run.
Before six moons had turned down,
Her needles fell out of limbs frozen,
By wind and rains ***** unclothed—
Sun-clad boughs now fodder to moon.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
(A poetry to Baek Won Kyu)
.
It was autumn
a year before now
everything started to fall
but the maple foliage
still there, on the cliff...
.
I walked on the stepping stones,
along the river,
with the beautiful scenes of nature
that lead me to the gate
of Seonam Temple
.
You, next to me
pointing out the river
and said to me
with the cheerful voice and smile,
"Look! The water is so clear.
Oh! I wish we were salmons,
so we can swim together
along the clear river,
and let the Lord Buddha in the temple
bless our journey
till the end of time..."
.
Well, we are not salmons.
We will never be.
But I have the same hope
and dream with you...
May the Lord Buddha
bless every of our journey
in the limitless time and space...
.
And let the journey
to Seonam Temple
be the most beautiful memory
and the unforgettable moment
of our souls.
.
July 29, 2017
-KANYA PUSPOKUSUMO-
.
**Seonam Temple, or Seonamsa, is a Korean Buddhist temple on the eastern slope at the west end of Mount Jogye Provincial Park, within the northern Seungjumyeon District of the city of Suncheon, Jeollanamdo Province, South Korea
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 12:57 PM UTC
The
sun came
for it's flower
she blushes in
the heat
of the
moment
her
petals
rouge from
a salmons pink
her joy always returns
with dew drops
of the dawn
that pearls
in the valley
of the rising sun
she is lotus my river of love.
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 12:52 PM UTC
Salmon 1
Bear 2
"Please let me pass so I can finish my journey
to the place of my birth;
So I can continue the life cycle of my kind.
You've eaten many Salmons,
surely you've satisfied your hunger for today!"
"My hunger is satisfied Salmon,
but I'll feast on you as well!"
"I beg for mercy,
please let me pass!
This is my one and only chance to mate.
I've travelled a great distance for this occasion;
I'll exhaust my life for this endeavour!"
"You ask for mercy salmon.
I possess no such feeling for you!
You're food for me salmon,
nothing more."
"If you permit my passage,
you'll benefit from your grace in time.
I will lay many eggs,
which in turn will become many salmons,
more food.
Your feast will be greater in future years."
"Don't try to tempt me with promises of the future Salmon!
You've spent many years at sea,
waiting for your one and only time to return to this place.
You live for the run,
I on the other hand live by the seasons.
I suffer many hardships in barren times.
I dream of days of abundance,
days like this!
I've learned to appreciate the good times.
You offer me a prize I may not live to see.
I take opportunities when they present themselves,
In the present,
not the future!"
Sep 20, 2016
Sep 20, 2016 at 5:22 AM UTC