"seabed" poems
Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
Toast to stolen prayers with rarer player’s hands;
Soft in defiant laughter,
when drinking their wine from the bowels of brines
Sing along the Ballads of Heritage with Melodies of Exception;
Boast, not a breathe,
though sullen heirs ghost to fairer wearer’s air(s) of land—
A settlement of Rapture and Resurrection, arid, amid dirt and sand
and King and thy Kingdom sprout flowering tomb, and rosebud temple reach to the sky during the showers of spring
Devours the crescent Moon
in big pink petals of bloom;
A garden so fertile
it could look pretty in wartime—
with Gardeners of Courage and Laborers of Excellence;
(Lapse, not into digressions of Being and Essence
but hands in the soil and planting the actions of kingdom come,
patient building of Spring Reign sure
as the flame, the architect of rising Sun is
(Daughters and Sons of kingdom came,
the soldier in a land been conquered and named; abandoned
for the greenness of hope.
)May it never come, Be All The Same; (
be gentle, though whispering wind)
Seeds of Nextyear and the spores of Awhile,
carried by the Wasps and the Clouds
To the Gentlemen of Excellence and Ladies of Courage,
illuminated, eyes from the flora of stars faraway forest floor of foreign
fears,
as the hungry Owls of Time prepare a final feast—
Consume the years between Here and Now;
Watching from blank perch, among
the Trees of Afterall; a place beyond expectance.
Sing the branches of experience, to wake
in Siren’s cipher; inelegant forms
of waking,
ugly sleep on rocks of seabed; once was aboard a marooned skyline—
Those Who Are Will Be
again, again a serf in a wave of Time’s refraction. Neverending neverbeginning;
Those Gentlemen of Courage and Ladies of Excellence,
on the Day That Is, arrays of seers sayers doers displayers
optimists and pessimists, toast to them
and their rarer player’s hands,
Boast they, not a breathe, though sullen heirs ghost
to fairer wearer’s air and land;
Laugh and howl and dine, they drink their wine
from disemboweled gourds
of their own divine—
Warped, in jowls of hungry fix,
no feast they fear, for they prey to the Owls of Time.
Apr 30, 2018
Apr 30, 2018 at 5:28 PM UTC
The sunset imbues its last glance
as molten lavas cool into exotic crimson
painting the colour of romance on the seabed.
What glance did you cast?
Stunned moon turns up a notch,
keeps looking over the ocean,
yet to drink a drop!
Ah, holy smoke,
what did you drop?
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
I
The successive suns of summers
swim in me like a balcony of heat
I glow with the sol of sols
the pine cone of lava that
makes my cheeks full, white
the sun-drop of diamonds
have petrified in my heart
and I am creation rushing down
ii
On all that is below, these stars
know me and I among them
we are like water in water
ocean creatures of great adventure
vertigoes of light, layers of softness
suns of paradise, legends of golden noons
revolutions of princely sunspots
cliff of mortality, planets revolving
iii
Around a center, galaxies revolving
around a black-hole that was once
a great sun, time has pink candle-like veins
but she knows the sun, the sparkling rocks
the matter and energy of our destinies
caught up in a seabed of lights
the successive suns of summers
swim in me like an ode to sun-religions
iv
but I am here, drinking sun-wine
in the surreal view of full eyes
with a body of silver for the kaleidoscope
and a naked face dismantled by another eclipse
another wonder, another design of day.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 9:19 PM UTC
there was once a lobster he live in the seavery blue in color blue as blue can beone day while he was walking he came across a potlying on the seabed inside he had a trothe got into the *** as nosy as can benow he was trapped and no way to get freesuddenly he saw friendly passing topewho saw he was stuck and handed him a ropehe tied it to the *** at the bottom of seathen he pulled it hard now lobster he was freethen he thanked the tope for saving him that daythen the little lobster calmly swam away.
Feb 25, 2010
Feb 25, 2010 at 7:27 AM UTC
Ophelia...smote egress, you are Rimbaud's:
"Drunken Boat".
The river you fell asleep upon found you a sea.
Your bones knew no seabed--poppies, marigolds,
orchids, black roses fill your eye sockets, mouth and rib cage.
You substantiate what color the sea may give your lay.
Its foamy waddle has signaled you to one too many
climes...an orison broke open.
What strain of tragedy now holds you, spine on depth,
eye sockets on sky?
You dove headlong into the Shakespearean maelstrom--
where mortal coil confounds, chin-up darling.
Great winds fish-scale your waters, only to invert their maw.
There are lines daily of sea's breadth, whereupon its
creatures come single file to kiss your bone.
Ophelia...wrested from river to sanguine sea, shedding trails
of flesh.
If bones were the eye of a needle...you've pulled through,
heir to tragedy--circumnavigating your infamy.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Not a happy lass
Stubby little wings
Superfluous mass
Four long stringy legs
Twirly-whirly tongue
Moo-Cow-Butterfly
Highly strung
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Fifty shades of fur
Quite the oddest vertebrate
To naturally occur
Burrows in the jungle
Terrified of heights
Weasel-Emu-Rangutan
Restless nights
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Slimy furry blob
Genetic Engineering
**** poor job
Moping on the seabed
Can’t fetch sticks
Labra-Hippo-Jellyfish
Sink like bricks
Chameleon-Begonias
Origin unknown
Disappear rapidly
As soon as they are sown
Neither here or thereabouts
But somewhere in between
Chameleon-Begonias
Seldom Seen
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 4:36 PM UTC
If our souls were oceans,
how many divers would take the risk
to brush against the seabed,
an urge to discover the unknown,
or just someone to call home?
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
A jet-ski, jetty bound, disturbs the waves,
While not too far away, on the seabed
Lies the hungry blacktip and hammerhead,
As a nurse explores the undersea caves.
Harvey wouldn’t capture Marlin here,
Just a glance of turtle, seaweed green,
Gasping at the stuffy air, marine,
Gazing at a sunset he should fear.
The sharks hunt for prey in mere hours.
A flock of ching-chings squawk away,
As mosquitoes come out to play,
Darting between darkening flowers.
Through mosquito nets I take a peek,
In oasis that I realise,
Snuggled in a palm tree lies
A curled green parrot, sound asleep.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
oh, san juans, your riches beckon
your wealth, your beauty calls
your waveless, salty waters blue
my heart since childhood draws
your waters lap at darkened rock
'round islands, bays and inlets fill
with returning salmon teeming
your breaking waters thrill
your tide, oh ever river changing
charges muddy oyster flats
your thriving pods of orca leap
o'er spray in mid-air acrobats
from seabed swift, cold and deep
the lushness of your green hills rise
your sun falls fleet like shooting star
your sparkling waters mesmerize
sailing craft from ’neath horizon
angels spread their wings of color
skirt your shoals and ply your straits
find safety anchored in your harbors
oh, san juans, your wonder waits
your treasure and your magic calls
your waveless, crystal waters blue
my heart since youth still draws
calls me to return each year
to dip my paddle deep
when life averts the journey there
in dreams you beckon while i sleep
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
You took away my life
When you said that I should die
There's no reason I shouldn't cut you off
When you still believe in lies
To think I'd ever hurt you
Just confirms you're out of line
I know I'm not the best
When it comes to making time
But
You know I would have died for you
If you let me even try
I would have put away desires
If it meant you were alright
I would have gathered everything
Just to throw it into fire
I would have killed myself for you
If it meant that you could fly
I would have only prayed to God
If He could just give me a sign
I would have brought you all the roses
From the shop just down the street
I would have purchased every one
If it meant that you were free
I would have taken you somewhere safe
Just to show I have respect
I'm not like the other guys
I'm just looking for a friend
A soul I'll learn to cherish
When the skies are turning gray
A voice that puts to rest
The insecurities that I face
A place my thoughts can sleep
When they're keeping me awake
Your hands that I can hold
When I'm running out of strength
Ocean eyes that I'll admire
When the clouds are making haste
A nose that I'll make fun of
When you don't always get your way
Or your arms that will embrace me
When I've fallen in too deep
The words you whisper quietly
To make my inner demons weep
They will tremble out of fear
Cause they can't haunt me anymore
I know my worth when I'm with you
While we're sitting on the shore
Your mind is an ocean of ideas
That I'm diving to explore
My demons no longer there
When I'm lying on the seabed floor
Surrounded by your loving nature
As I get to know you more
You are everything to me
Which I know I've said before
But only when I'm in your arms
Are my inner demons ignored
I'm embraced by surrounding waters
Like I've finally found a home
Where I'm at my deepest point
But I no longer feel alone
I'll be hitting my rock bottom
But can make it out alive
Your words are enough to hold on to
When I'm on the verge of dying
They may take away my possessions
They may take away my pride
But I'll never let them take you
Even if it means I die
Jan 29, 2024
Jan 29, 2024 at 2:35 AM UTC
it's nights like this, when we tangle
together like weeds in a seabed of lust
i beg for once, your eyes instead
of your mouth, would confess
how you felt for me.
your lips grow like ivy along the grey
mortar of my spine, your fingers write how
much they don't love me all over my body
and tiny birds take flight from my breath
to be together, is to be apart
when i am with you every word is a mistake,
we press our lips together
harder than we want to press
them against each others mouths
i keep tripping over apologies
and you just want someone who
is steady on their feet
i once knew a boy who told me
he wasn't an artist, but painted
the shores on my cheeks
when he spoke, even the trees leaned
in to hear his beautiful lies
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
maybe a black mouth
opening and closing
usually you can see the gums
the teeth
lips stretching over them
there’s nothing
a gaping entrance to the void
there are two stale muffins on the table
one soaking in milk
it’s been two hours now
the room at the top of the stairs
is growing louder and louder
a piercing bellow
drowning out all thoughts
but it doesn’t
i want to scream
throw myself into it until my entire being is lost
between the teeth
the white black lacuna
corn splitting from the cob
a rotting banana
an empty carton of milk
my god, could life be any more boring?
i caught a cold
sneezed at the floor
achoo achoo
get well soon cards at my funeral
loraclear on my casket
dirt over
grow me like a mushroom
expanding into the root systems
puffing into a bulbous fruit
pick me and slice me
but i trust only supermarket goods
picked by mechanised beings
******* on an industrial conveyor belt
modernity made physical
look into the slaughterpens while you eat your steak
barter your children for another shot of coffee
hah hah hah, doesn’t affect me
strutting your cash like an empty slot machine
rigged to emote only with your colleagues
while the television blares another thousand deaths
**** this ****** world
consume me until there’s nothing left
everyone’s a nihilist
someone brought back a dozen breadloaves from the women’s refuge
eat them before they go off
turning our bodies
pouring soap down the sink
all the fishes scales rot away
they slowly sink into the depths
and line the seabed with teeth and ribs
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 2:45 AM UTC
Iron cast and weighing me down,
These lungs filled with air,
Take me from the ground,
Lift me up above the clouds,
High above the moon,
The wind and rain are the only sounds.
Anchored to the seabed,
These lungs have filled with water,
Fish and memories swim through my head,
Watch me fall apart and rest,
A shipwrecked soul and covered in coral,
Locked away inside a treasure chest.
A desert storm and I'm still lost,
These lungs are filled with sand,
Each grain inhaled comes at a cost,
Flip me over like an hourglass,
Watch the time fall away,
Lungs die down and breaths never last.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 6:53 PM UTC
a thousand restless fingers
pluck along my nerves
and crawl swarming bees
over my flesh
******* dry honey
and I as a comb am empty
waiting on the waxing moon
to bring in the tide
exposed and littered
on the cracked seabed
lighting beeswax candles
impromptu runway lights
for those aeroplanes
who always fail to land
and wasted afternoons
fade into wasted nights
tossing to and fro
I sleep
under the cupboards instead
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
who needs to learn
to wrap the tides
while the fisherman
cast the net of fire
from the darkest seabed
locked the doors of events
to keep an ancient calendar
still glowing on it's eyes
but within the time
the firts cry came
the lips of the ocean
became reluctant to return
for us to be afraid
to saw the wraith
of the fish
Sep 25, 2017
Sep 25, 2017 at 3:14 AM UTC
17 Shattered skulls bobbing on an ocean of oil.
The crawling skin of sailer souls ready to recoil.
No more rigging 1 less oar.
Beast from the deep allowed to surface once more.
The crows nest falls the skies turn black.
Men overboard who are never coming back.
No more rigging 1 less oar.
Beast from the deep returns to the seabed once more.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 5:10 PM UTC
When once the twilight locks no longer
Locked in the long worm of my finger
Nor ****** the sea that sped about my fist,
The mouth of time ****** like a sponge,
The milky acid on each hinge,
And swallowed dry the waters of the breast.
When the galactic sea was ******
And all the dry seabed unlocked,
I sent my creature scouting on the globe,
That globe itself of hair and bone
That, sewn to me by nerve and brain,
Had stringed my flask of matter to his rib.
My fuses are timed to charge his heart,
He blew like powder to the light
And held a little sabbath with the sun,
But when the stars, assuming shape,
Drew in his eyes the straws of sleep
He drowned his father's magics in a dream.
All issue armoured, of the grave,
The redhaired cancer still alive,
The cataracted eyes that filmed their cloth;
Some dead undid their bushy jaws,
And bags of blood let out their flies;
He had by heart the Christ-cross-row of death.
Sleep navigates the tides of time;
The dry Sargasso of the tomb
Gives up its dead to such a working sea;
And sleep rolls mute above the beds
Where fishes' food is fed the shades
Who periscope through flowers to the sky.
When once the twilight screws were turned,
And mother milk was stiff as sand,
I sent my own ambassador to light;
By trick or chance he fell asleep
And conjured up a carcass shape
To rob me of my fluids in his heart.
Awake, my sleeper, to the sun,
A worker in the morning town,
And leave the poppied pickthank where he lies;
The fences of the light are down,
All but the briskest riders thrown
And worlds hang on the trees.
2k
her vision hovers the waters,
with hands aquivered and acquainted
to the sticks and stones that resided under
and beneath the seabed
her mind floats like a lifeboat
of words yet helpless and taciturn,
she remains silent for the rest of the trip
but her eyes are more than the reaching arms,
she is a lifehouse, a tower
to each and every one of them
anything but an overshadower,
a breather of hope and endearment
(n.j.)
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
Can't you see she is drowning?
Her heart is sinking,
A Titanic heartbreak,
Broken in two,
Don't just sit there and watch the oxygen escape her quivering lips,
Dive
In
And
Save
Her.
Let the water consume you,
Drag your soul to the bottom,
Anchor yourself to the seabed
And stretch open your arms,
If you can't fire the flare,
At least go down with the ship,
Let her drift into your embrace,
Feel the pulsating current tear away
All final thoughts of fear and insecurity,
Just stay there,
Linger in the abyss of the disheartened
And wait until your bodies are pulled from the waves
And revived.
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
Imagine,
A slippery, charcoal, behemoth of a rock
Lying dormant, as if sleeping,
Under the comfort of a seabed.
Waves are crashing onto
The shoreline,
Rippling across the weightless,
Unblemished sand
As though it were hair
Gently being pushed across your face
The almost unnoticeable,
Yet constant breeze
Of the in and outs of your breath
Are the only constant left.
Small indents,
The size of dimples
Are the only remains visible
A last and final reminiscent memory
Of the grace that was once there.
An almost tranquil sendoff
As the water gets pulled back into the expanse
An expanse as deep and as beautiful
As the locks of your hair.
Unconscious thoughts dart through my mind
As quickly as the most nervous fish
Conjuring pictures and images
As vivid as Van Gogh’s
Streaked with lost and quickly forgotten words
Like a smoothed out seashell
Pulled under and out into the sea
To a place more wondrous than the eye will ever see
The shells float away,
Making one last attempt to stay above the water’s surface
To stay conscious.
But the smell of the air,
Mixed with the comfort of the water
Coaxes it back
Like a siren’s song.
Under those waves,
Beautiful waves,
The same everlasting and flowing haven I have fallen into
,
The endless,
unexplored, untouched,
Flawless shelter of your locks.
The ones that gently touch against my sand-colored skin
Lulling me and inviting me to drift away,
Away, back into the expanse of a dreamland
One almost as endless
As the ocean of us.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
There are secrets hidden between the lines of these pages
which crease like the sheets on your bed when
you turn and overturn them with a
misplaced foot or an erring hand in search of
bits and pieces of mahogany scattered across your seabed after
tumultuous waves rocked the ship back and forth
back and forth across the seascape where I learned to
let go and swim good and
break to the surface gasping for
your breath infused with the aroma of imported coffee and
the lingering aftertaste of sea-weed on your taste buds between
the hidden corners of your cheeks within
the hidden corners of your mouth,
I delved deep, swam good, delved deep,
swam up and down, up and down,
until the tumultuous waves swelled up and tossed
my body back and forth, back and forth,
slamming it against solid rocks into
bits and pieces of mahogany scattered across your seabed.
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of exceptional beauty...
No matter how rare or how valuable,
a pearl waits indeed.
A pearl waits indeed,
for the bravest of divers...
No matter how long or how far,
to swim deep for her historical harvest.
A pearl waits indeed,
albeit of celebrated rarity...
No matter how treacherous the ocean,
a pearl stays still and sits pretty.
A pearl waits indeed,
in the embrace of the sea...
No matter how tumultuous the waves get,
a pearl waits indeed...
A pearl waits...
to be worn as a necklace
or earrings by a poet.
A poet who also refers to herself as a pearl.
A poet so foolishly comparing herself.
But then again, she's not so wrong.
Asking questions to the sky before bed.
Will you pick me up and take me away
from this seabed of moss and loss?
Will you harvest me from the vast ocean
and its mass of loneliness?
A pearl waits...
to be held, touch and kissed by the fingers
of a brave diver, of a worthy surfer...
Or simply by a simple island boy,
whose heart is that of a lion's
and whose hands are able...
Apr 30, 2024
Apr 30, 2024 at 4:15 AM UTC
i am here in my head
yet my Soul it still sleeps
in a mossy seabed
waking up each new morning
with dew covered hands
wrapped in cold mists of leftover
words in the sand
rubbing waves from my eyes
gazing up at the sky
asking for reasons why
time for us won't comply
why i grew Love in hues of
his foreign blue high
how i sang him hello
just to swallow goodbye
why i still feel the pull of
his ocean-filled eyes
how his lips drown my mind
in sweet saltwater tides
until deep down a voice speaks -
the smallest of kinds -
with a thought that's so subtle
it might pass me by
_"this is as deep as it grows"_
magic like this can’t be owned
_"this is only a dream"_
i must wake up and go
trust it's all for my growth
maybe next time i will not
make shorelines my home
i'll look inward for more
heal mySelf when i’m sore
realize all is reflecting
my own reservoir
Love can feel like a war
each time bickering more
but it's fighting to prove
_i am all i look for_
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC
my thoughts, so potent just before--
like fresh-pressed olive drops
that lingered, lipping from the fragrant spout--
now pass, diffuse atop an ocean vast.
i imagine willing it to be a pond,
not for its lesser size alone
but mostly for its calm,
reflective height; yet
these waves are
distort ruthlessness
of liquid dust
by slapping, tower-high
the central ocean rip-whirl tide:
and gone--
as Homer's heroes screaming as they drown,
deaf as oars but for their final gasps
of yearned-for clarity:
of nameless pride's Ithacan king
abrading lustful wrists
restrained to blind a god's son's single eye
by tentacles of twisting, tactful fate.
by threaded loom rethreaded
soon i see my salty self in suit
of sameness, tricking time
by indolence or theft--
from truth, from others' hearths--
the difference winks in bubbles on the cosmic shore...
foam so clean i grin to call it spume,
grin to brace the seabed to my algaed chest
in salinating crush of sand, of blood-sharp shell and rock,
in sungreen warmth of blue and life
in crashing sinus wince
i grit aegean nereids in my sneeze,
splay their formless sexing into pelvic scrapes
of quickened starbursts anciently reborn,
squeezed in pleasure tears and laughing drops--
as all pelagic ***** must
within the pressure of a world,
its breathing darkness spotted with transmuted sun,
expel itself in sensate gusts--
as octopodal spurting flings
in liquid ****** of purpose forth,
(or backwards, sideways, in and out)--
so too i think
and thinking, drown my ink
instead of drowning thinking in my ink
.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC