"seafoam" poems
Her figure in my bed
relaxes, half obscured by silk sheets;
there’s a sweetness to her uncovered form,
not in a way that is ****** or arousing,
but for how it speaks of comfort in my presence
like we are so adapted to each other
that nothing is strange or foreign to us—
even the vulnerability of nakedness.
And like a goddess, she pulls me in to her chest,
a whisper of soft and beautiful flesh;
there, I imagine us as once born from the ocean,
with pearl strewn hearts and wanton eyes,
as goddess meets goddess among seafoam and silk.
Jul 24, 2022
Jul 24, 2022 at 3:06 PM UTC
1. Fallow brown, like he's poured his whole soul out through the gold sieve and lies in wait to be replenished.
2. The color of the ocean. Blue, I guess, but that’s not even the half of it. All the ruggedness of the waves—forming up, breaking, and forming again like life is only the motions. Her eyes are blue, but you could hardly tell.
3. A hand-painted bowl of fresh chocolate frosting from which the most immature hands soonest get a mouthful.
4. Beautiful. Like, drop dead gorgeous. I’d dig my own grave and stick to rolling in it if she ever looked at me some type of way. Their color? I don’t know. But most of all, I dare to wonder about the bludgeoned scar between them.
5. Sturdy cobalt. Far more indicative of her steady heart than gold could ever hope to be. Still susceptible to tear, but not so easily warped by heat or stress.
6. Simply brown. No, red? It’s always been hard to tell through the fog. Truthful like the rawest earth, I’ll call her mahogany.
7. Faded blue spray paint over a slate gray wall. Forcibly muted after her years of blasting music, but there’s still that rogue twinkle to them that I pray slips through the cracks.
8. Coffee, with all the vim and vigor to make you click your heels and fall in love.
9. Unripe lime seen lazing in the shade. Not fit for a margarita just yet, but straining at the bit nonetheless.
10. Hazel, although I still don’t know what the **** that actually is. Whatever. It looks nice on her resume.
11. Green. Or were they blue? The memories of her were too wonderful, too important, that I had to let the littlest details fade away first.
12. The crystallized seafoam that made me realize I deserved to feel alive, too.
Jun 24, 2018
Jun 24, 2018 at 3:09 AM UTC
vintage polaroids
mountain air
girl scout cookies
summer hair
ed sheeran lyrics
mint lemonade
blowing bubbles
christmas parade
harry potter
winter park crew
biscoff spread
morning dew
british accents
plaid shirts
old castles
chocolate desserts
breakfast for dinner
big bang theory quotes
shakespearean language
cape cod sailboats
sweet nostalgia
the smell of books
longing wanderlust
forest nook
80s movies
neon lights
time with friends
caramel delights
the great gatsby
walk the moon
old typewriters
plumerias bloom
bombay bicycle club
chinese cuisine
abstract art
seafoam green
vineyard vines
life of pi
scuba diving
monarch butterfly
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC
She used to tell me
of math and poetry
by the length of her arm
and rhythm of her heart
conversing verse and fraction
with form following the function
of communist theories
and greek philosophies.
she beat out aesthetics
with a perfect symmetry.
because no one understands
the relationship between
seafoam and shoreline
the way she does
[swimming in saltwater sorrows]
reimagining time in an hourglass,
she shot up infinities with a glance
and left me moondrunk in the night.
she emits sparks throughout my system
breaking and entering--
my kingdom under siege.
her name was an amalgam of numbers
italic1.6180399. . . .italic
and I loved her by design.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 10:18 AM UTC
the water filled our lungs
and bled through the cracks in our skin.
bubbling, brimming
the sea touched my eyes and you were white
with seafoam, curdling between lashes,
silvers pooling over stark blues
on fingertips.
sinuous, submissive.
the piercing cold mixed with the rough salt
over tide-smoothed shells.
we breathed out our mist to cry over crashes of thunder.
enigmatic, flowing.
you are an acrobat, my prideful tide.
your steel waters wash the sand from my legs
and glassy waves cleanse, twisting and curling,
releasing through our ocean breeze.
you opened your eyes and all i saw was sea glass.
Dec 9, 2018
Dec 9, 2018 at 6:36 PM UTC
I’m thinking of the faded checkered pattern that has been
smoothed away by time on the dark cloth seats of a Nissan Pathfinder
driving down Ryan Road on a hot day in June.
My mother, in the front seat, singing along to a Spice Girls cassette.
I’m thinking: red, plastic, crab-shaped sandbox and
McDonald’s Happy Meal toys.
I’m thinking: light princess pink, seafoam green, and robin’s egg blue.
I’m thinking of a framed cheetah cross stitch, hanging on the wall of what
used to be our bedroom at my grandparent’s house.
I’m thinking: Barbie doll houses and Hot Wheels and a cul-de-sac at
the end of the street.
The sweet smell of cigar smoke. The ice cold splash of the garden hose. The pop of a bubble. The sting of soap in the eye. Dreams by The Cranberries. As Long as You Love Me by The Backstreet Boys. A HelloKitty boombox slowly spitting out vapor when the deck builders hit a power line while digging. The deer in the backyard looking for corn. The faded wood of a playset that was never really played on.
My father: sitting alone on a splintered bench by the firepit at the edge of the woods, empty beer cans at his feet, chain smoking cigarettes, and humming along to a song that is stuck—forever stuck—on the tip of my tongue.
I do not know if this happened. I cannot ask him.
(I’m not sure if I would want to ask him.)
But I can make an educated inference that that line of
fiction is really nonfiction.
A memory that feels like a phantom limb.
Sounds like the sharp crinkle of static.
Covered in a gossamer, dreamlike haze.
There is a distinct otherness to this memory, to who
I think I was before the trauma.
We are two different people. A yin and a yang. A day and a night.
The hermit crab is soft beneath its hard shell.
The asbestos is not apparent within the insulation.
You cannot see the lead in the paint.
The mold inside the fruit.
May 5, 2021
May 5, 2021 at 2:46 AM UTC
Rain falls like a lead sheet beating
ages on my back. The water rises,
but through the muddiness of the dividing sea
your light stands clear. You stand
beyond my riverside,
the birth of Venus before my eyes.
Skin like seafoam and eyes
like amber coax my hands into fists, beating
ripples into your image that not even the riverside
rain and my own reflection could rise
over. As the waves ripple across your cheeks, I stand
to remember you are also across this sea.
Caught between this love like religion, the sea
breeze makes poetry of your hair in the wind, and my eyes
have never been drowned deeper. I have never had to stand
a love so murderous; even your mirror image gives my soul a beating.
All the while, the water rises,
crashing against the riverside.
Across the riverside,
your gaze is resolute and colder than the sea.
The sun rises,
to find her light breaking the horizon with her eyes
that held back whirlpools, beating
my soul with crashing waves of division, which I can no longer stand.
Too deep to stand,
dangers of the divide bound my desire. A prisoner to the riverside.
The chains of star-crossed lovers crash with the waves, beating
my sense into sea.
Pain is no stranger to your eyes.
The beauty of the sea would always rise.
Hurricanes beat you into perfection and you rise
and stand
above the ordinary eyes.
Storm-beaten and Tempest-tossed on this riverside,
A godly daughter of the ominous sea
has overcame a beating.
Beyond the riverside,
across the sea,
my heart is beating.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 3:16 AM UTC
.
*A midnight wave of shimmered light
caresses soft this slumbered shore
Of moonbeam whispers on the night
in ocean scenes and moments pure
To find upon this beach we lie
our glistened skin in stardust gleam
Beneath a diamond dusted sky
alone amidst a seafoam dream*
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
A 1988 Oldsmobile Cutlass Ciera
A mixtape
Valentines Day
A tuxedo
A seafoam green dress
Prom night
A starlit road
A taste of your lips
Spring
A weeping embrace
A slamming door
Summer
An empty bedroom
A bottle of gin
Autumn
A silent girl
A disturbed boy
Winter
"I don't love you like I did yesterday"
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 11:10 PM UTC
,,,"---"",,"",,---,,,"""
palpable piquant
pastel scream
surrounded by
portentous
dream
seafoam and symmetry
loquacious land
shuddering snow
and
sibilant sand
caustic, cocaphonous
calypso clouds
awed by the
eloquent
elongated
shrouds
burnt to mere
nothingness
negated, naught
turbulent
truculent
trickling
thought
dense and dowdy
docile and dubious
rousing and rowdy
quiet and studious
grating, gallumphing
gruesome
ground
supine and succulent
*asymmetrical
sound*
soulsurvivor
(C) 6/22/2015
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 5:54 AM UTC
I couldn't tell your skin from sadness on the dryest, darkest nights.
I refused to acknowledge the rising tides that licked my ankles, threatening to fill my lungs with seafoam. I threw my head back and laughed, instead.
I, born of Neptune, am no different from the hungry tides. I want to wash you ashore and squeeze the water from your milky skin. You'll be as translucent as a jellyfish.
And I will smile, disgusted and aroused.
Oct 12, 2011
Oct 12, 2011 at 2:20 PM UTC
Once
I built a sandcastle
and showed it to
the ocean.
I had made sure
that every detail was
perfect—
working as hard as I could
to keep it safe,
because all I ever wanted was
for it to last long.
The waters hardly noticed,
they were far too concerned
with their own purposes
to even bother
with my effort.
When they crashed at my feet,
it sent the best kind of chills up my spine—
but that only happened
if it was convenient for them.
They'd never go out of their way
just to find their way
to me.
Sometimes I would try
to go out to them,
wanting the seafoam
to rush over my toes
and the cold spray
to splash into me.
But sometimes they didn't come.
The waves went back out
and wanted nothing to do with me.
The next day
I returned to the ocean.
What I found was that
in a matter of hours,
the waves I had
loved so much
had taken the chance
to destroy.
The sandcastle that
I'd worked so hard on
was completely gone,
without a trace,
nothing to show for it.
You wouldn't even know that I'd
tried in the first place.
You and the ocean have a lot in common.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:11 PM UTC
alarm
dogmatical snakebird dictator
**** rooster of electro maniacal damnation
wake
goober eyed ithyphallic mortal yahoo yawns
glacier shuffle to Midas’ bowl
brush
minty hairy pasty headed ********
seafoam ***** on white vanity beaches
shave
deceitful murderous metal cartel scraping
dead shrubs from yesterday’s winter
breakfast
egg flour chalk smack
guzzling bean kerosene
work
batshit bureaucratic badgers bludgeon
muktuk hamsters lubricating wheels of fortune
lunch
butcher’s dead friend between greasy toasted cement
harlot’s heavenly tomato mating cabbage cousin
work
taradiddle of martyrs at jargon’s temple blather
babble, bumble - copulation without ***********
dinner
unicorn steaks, butterfly sauté, and
leprechaun fingers, a side of manslaughter dolphin
sleep
a felon’s holiday
repeat
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 3:56 AM UTC
*I remember being at the park
waiting for you.
I had my leather jacket on,
a book on my right hand
and tea on the other.
You were the lights on a christmas tree.
You were the confetti on a cake.
You were Bonnie and I was Clyde.
But you disappeared.
Sooner than seafoam,
And I was blue,
bluer than the ocean.*
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
at the edge of humanity’s consciousness
a river flows through guitar chords of thoughts,
rocks and
stones caught in its
winding depths
the river drags seafoam upstream
gently claiming it
as if that which it touches is it’s own
and always has been
the foam only shrugs shyly,
an awkward smile slipping over its face,
that adds salt
in pinches
turning to idle sugars
-would anything-
the river responds to the projected call of a sand dollar
one that waters could never have dreamed of holding
so serenely
and it’s
like the world is beginning
all over again
that’s how it
should
feel
the sand dollar answers in sweet
sincerity
lightly clinging to
the pull of the waves
and it would be perfect if not
for
-have happened-
heaven’s reeds are
the root of heartache
and they drift down the Lithe
pulling everything
angelically
destructive
-if I didn’t-
-reach out-
-my hand?-
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 10:43 AM UTC
Letting the water rush around my ankles,
I whisper your name to the seafoam.
I roll my tongue around each syllable,
as if enunciation alone could draw
fate lines between us.
The water recedes,
and takes with it my breath.
I see now that the ocean is what taught you
to leave me gasping for air.
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 1:50 AM UTC
Butterflies and crows circling the water
Dive
headfirst, closed eyes into the ocean.
Fly.
Rest easy
my
dearest;
how I've missed you
but only the physical things
only the ****** things
I'm objectifying you
(....how rude)
I'm riding on the waves of creation
fixating on free form and relation
with Self
Life is animated now, see the things
that we missed?
Life is kissable
It tastes salty and beautiful like seafoam
and sweet like spring blossoms
I'd offer you my hand again, but
last time you drug me down
This time I'll offer you sand instead,
and castles and sunshine
and smiles.
They're free,
you should try 'em out
sometime, baby.
There's no rush.
The sun will be waiting whenever
you wanna mosey over.
The time for moping is over.
Your misery can be over,
snap
That moment is over
That second is over
Your entire lifetime up to this point
is over
What's that you said about new beginnings?
Finding new things?
Dive in, head first, eyes closed,
towards those things you're seeking.
Don't ever stop
Don't
ever
stop
dreaming.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
"I drew you a picture."
She said.
Palms open.
It was an outline of her hands in rosepetal pink.
Valiantly spread out on the page.
"Do you like it?"
She said.
Eyes open.
The outline of my face in the seafoam blue shades of them.
Hopefully spread out on her face.
"How could I not."
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 1:58 PM UTC
should she have
thrown her wish at the stars
or down a well?
her hair in cigar smoke ringlets
her eyes were the guinness
the journey, her passion
the boy, her poison
the liffey winked with antidotes
black glass with white lights
why do rivers mock the sky?
her hair in her vision
her voice in a bird cage
a swan on a sailboat
not a soul on the ferry
on another coast
amid the day before
and the one that followed
seafoam clashed with clouds
came full circle
as her favorite dead end
she raised
then rolled
her eyes
blue waves with gray wisps
why do skies mock the river?
she didn't go over
nor to the end
she just went against the grain
of the rainbow
only she could spot
and then
she stuffed her hands into her pockets
and
she threw her wish
away
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
You are so strong. You are so brave.
Yet you put on masks instead of your face.
You lie beneath them. You dissapear.
Thinking that you’re in the clear.
Seafoam lion, I see your soul.
You try to hide it-- it’s what you were told.
Your walk is not yet comfortable--
Your strides a little frail.
That roar is still hiding
Beneath your fear to fail.
My little cub, let me protect you.
I’m not much, but I’ll give you my all.
My king of the jungle, I feel your struggle,
And I will catch you if you fall.
Jan 17, 2013
Jan 17, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
it's true
they did love you once.
feared you too, but
maybe that's the same thing,
gave you
roast pigs and animal pelts
and you didn't even have to ask.
a pretty good arrangement.
now
i'm the only one that sticks around
and even then only
when i'm bored.
i'm taunting and i'm cruel and you, love,
are not a great conversationalist
but
it evens out.
so i get to
take jabs at you
til you're frothing at the mouth,
like seafoam, briny
shaking valleys and hills with
your anger. and i can't help but laugh
at you. you,
with your dusty ruby eyes
(that lie now in a museum
somewhere
because the white men walked into your temples and plucked them right out -)
and your stone paws,
roughly hewn, mossy,
ugly.
we laugh and laugh
about what you lost
between galileo and darwin and euler,
so many years and the
backs of men.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 1:55 AM UTC
remember when you told me sleep was just practice? remember how when i asked what for, all you could manage was sea-foaming at the mouth and tired eyes?
funny how i see in black and white now. funny how i can still see sea-foam-blue.
one of the many things you taught me was to always keep eulogies tucked between my ribs in hopes of memorizing them by heart. i never knew heart break until words i can't remember writing—or, maybe, wont remember writing came spilling out of my mouth like reverse lockjaw.
but i remember the way you choked up and coughed out apologies as if you were fighting tides of pride; words getting caught in your throat—a foreshadowing of salt the water in your lungs.
i know i tend to ramble, and i know you tend to hate that but i swear god this had a point. i guess what i'm trying to say is, i never meant to be your anchor. i never wanted to drag you down.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
Love has an embargo against me.
Forsaken, forgotten, forlorn--
My heart breaks for the sound of a lover’s sigh;
For the solemn pounding of a treasured heartbeat next to mine.
I'll never find sublime perfection
In the face of another;
The arcane whispers and smiles
Shared by soulmates are barred from my purview.
The divinity of a caress escapes me,
The sacred secret of a kiss refused me.
Love denies itself to me.
I stand alone,
Waiting for seafoam to tickle my toes.
Waiting for a love that will never be known.
May 18, 2014
May 18, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC