"seawall" poems
Willets cull the seawall
snapper on the grill
rock ***** swoon
in shallow lagoons
long boats pass
under quiet
palm shade
Plovers dance and flutter
handrails frayed and torn
graffiti spots
at lovers rock
frigate-birds fall
from a high
noon sun
Thatched roof on a mud wall
fish flags settle score
anchors arch
in front line march
pillar cracks form
under rust brown scars
Elegant tern and grebe
watchmen fall in cue
children play
on crested waves
whimbrels and notchers
perch above Tentaciones
Striped pelícanos
the bandits of the sea!
merchants grow
in steady flow
siblings jostle
in a tide cooled sand
Heerman gull and boobie
durango smoke in yurt
boiler shrimp
and puffer blimp
castle buckets and scrapers
under a dusk light cheroot
Six pulls on a lead line
painted toes in sand
shearwater run
in a rainbow sun
the portly mexicano
flaunts his tacos
and wares
Rooster house for swordfish
bamboo shoots and sails
broken shells
and ocean swells
rise
on the
perfect
La Ropa bay
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
The bright sun’s rays
Are dappled as they strike
The manicured greensward.
He, tall, lithe, teeth all aglow
In cream slacks and pastel blouson,
She, fair and fairylike in acres of shimmering gauze,
Alight from the auto
At the site of their ‘manger al fresco’
Let us call them Justin and Jocelyn.
The basket is heavy
No matter.
He lifts it clear to carry
She gasps, he grins.
In minutes the scene is set
The rug, the plates, the glasses
The pate, the cold chicken,
The fruit….the wine.
He deflowers a bottle of Moselle,
Wishing it were her.
Guessing as much she blushes.
Ants retreat to nests
Wasps attack alternate targets
Flies zoom elsewhere to feed.
And all the while the sun
The golden sun continues to dapple.
The rain is not quite horizontal
As Joe and Judy
Run from the bus stop
To the stony beach.
Not quite horizontal
But driven off the sea it tastes salty.
He, ordinary, average, in a dampening grey mackintosh.
She, hair bleached in a sister’s frock and jacket
Holding hands,
And hold each a sandwich
Cellophane wrapped.
Squatting against the seawall
They eat.
Wet eyes flash bright signals.
Joe has a small thermos
Its vegetable soup,
And somehow a hardboiled egg appears,
To share.
The rain continues its attack.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Nobody got anywhere in this life
throttling bums,
and robbing hotdog vendors,
but a Saquatch eating a knish on top of a flipped bus
is a sight that sticks to the roof of your minds eye.
Let's eat caramel apples down by the seawall,
trade tall tales, and lizard scales,
run for the hills, but settle down in the shadow of the valley.
Prickly pear and agave nectar, nopal cactus fruit,
blended together, you can hardly taste the tequila.
I'll boost you onto the roof, and hand up my guitar,
and you'll help me climb up,
singing and chanting till the sun knocks us off the room,
we'll go pool hopping, with ski masks on,
and steal lawn ornaments,
and eat churros, and drink egg cream.
and kiss under the Brooklyn bridge.
I just gotta go throttle this ***
and rob this hotdog vendor.
If there isn't a sasquatch
I'll be home by the apocalypse.
Then we can get naked,
and set off the sprinkler system,
and dance in the halls.
Until the sun explodes,
and 2+2= 37.
Sep 8, 2012
Sep 8, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
living a charmed existence in the
shade of the seaward palm tree
but a telltale whisperer in hearts depth
sends doubters and scaremongers
like skulking figure's into the late day shadows
something darkly this way comes
some nameless faceless thing stalks this heartland of light
few pondered the night
few thought about what lay out there in the deep
brazen the lighthouse keeper
stokes the fires and keeps the lamps burning
no rumor of night will lay darkness at this door
no faint echo of footfall shall haunt this hour
again and again the lighthouse keeper
treads the midnight cold path of stones
along the seawall checking that all is well
raising his lantern and peering with old eyes
at the crazed cracks in the ancient wall
but none gave sign of weakness
none gave sign of peril
far out in the deep of the wider world
for the love of money and the greed of gasoline
something set in motion
some terrible beast of steel
and just as the moon set
in the final hour before dawn it came
heaving and rattling with such horrendous sounds
with bone rattling force laid its terrible hand on the seawall
and smashed the stones like it was no more than sand castle
this terrible thing so darkly come
unforgiven of wretched creature misguided soul
come to harvest the land of light
breathed with heavy burnt oil
breathed with mechanical labors
pulling its weight onto the shore
toppled the lighthouse extinguishing its light
darkness fell upon the scene
and with dreadful night returned once again to this shore
the seaward palm tree wither and die
no charmed place safe
from savage of dark
morning light never to return
in the shade of metal and oil fires night
the savage of darkness
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 9:10 PM UTC
People wish to be settled. Only as long as they are unsettled is there any hope for them.
-- Thoreau
My life has been
the instrument
for a mouth
I have never seen,
breathing wind
which comes
from I know not
where,
arranging and changing
my moods,
so as to make
an opening
for his voice.
Or hers.
Muse, White Goddess
mother with invisible
milk,
androgynous god
in whose grip
I struggle,
turning this way and that,
believing that I chart
my life,
my loves,
when in fact
it is she, he,
who charts them--
all for the sake
of some
as yet unwritten poem.
Twisting in the wind,
twisting like a pirate
dangling in a cage
from a high seawall,
the wind whips
through my bones
making an instrument,
my back a xylophone,
my *** a triangle
chiming,
my lips stretched tight
as drumskins,
I no longer care
who is playing me,
but fear
makes the hairs
stand up
on the backs
of my hands
when I think
that she may stop.
And yet I long
for peace
as fervently as you do--
the sweet connubial bliss
that admits no
turbulence,
the settled life
that defeats poetry,
the hearth before which
children play--
not poets' children,
ragtag, neurotic, demon-ridden,
but the apple-cheeked children
of the bourgeoisie.
My daughter dreams
of peace
as I do:
marriage, proper house,
proper husband,
nourishing dreamless
***
love like a hot toddy,
or an apple pie.
But the muse
has other plans
for me
and you.
Puppet mistress,
dangling us
on this dark proscenium,
pulling our strings,
blowing us
toward Cornwall,
toward Venice, toward Delphi,
toward some lurching
counterpane,
a tent upheld
by one throbbing
blood-drenched pole--
her pen, her pencil,
the monolith
we worship,
underneath
the gleaming moon.
2.3k
I am hopeful now
Walking the seawall straightens me out
The clouds and the waters
One foot in front of the other
Walking the seawall
To my day to day
The choices I've made
One foot in front of the other
Dogs on leashes
Babies in strollers
Or on daddies in front
The seawall
Windy and peaceful
One foot in front of the other
Birds eat
Fresh crab meat
The circle of life
Tug of war
One foot in front of the other
Runners run.
Cyclists, bike
Childs play
The walk to work
One foot in front of the other
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 5:32 AM UTC
Somewhere seabirds pipe and bleat,
gathered on a dark low tide.
Shapes and shadows line the fleet,
cold and calling.
In the shore hide facing north
I'm focussing black ten-by-forties,
hunched against the wall for warmth;
the tide still falling.
Looking out, I'm looking back,
thirty years have ebbed away;
the boy, his joy, his haversac,
his notebook scrawling;
I see him, tremulous, wild-eyed,
among the plovers, curlew, knot,
a loosed dog shakes them and he flies,
the seawall salt sting cuts and dries;
there's no recalling.
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 6:55 PM UTC
her endless summer dream
gathers dust on its sand encrusted photo of
beach blanket love affairs
jet planes departing for distant lands
she had her five and dime sunglasses
and a transistor radio
tuned to the cheerful forever summer song
still has that picture of her in the fall of 66
hamming it up for the camera with her Stanley
he passed a while back
now she shuffles up along the seawall
with her big hat and her bags
candy for little ones
a kiss on the cheek for the nice
young man who brings the paper
its miami in febuary
its endless summer
its brighton beach's southside
and i know ill have to stay
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 3:50 PM UTC
Footprints
Long ago -
can't hold
Warm water
Yesterday-
now cold
Clear sky
In the past-
it's gone
Dreams made
Not alone-
undone
Seawall
Once that strong-
Broken
Seabirds
Together-
unseen
Two hearts
Believing-
asking
One love
Forever-
hoping
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Appears a ghostly vision, fog in from the sea.
As if sentient in movement, shrouds all in it's mystique.
With a cyclop eye, lighthouse lends a mournful wail.
While specters breath dampens all, your marrow the chill impales.
Out of sight, crashing waves, sound loud as if they crawl,
following the living mist as it breaches the seawall.
Seeping round panes and doors, into every crevice.
The very air liquefied, a grey oppressive presence.
Wood smoke blends it's flavor to the tang of the air.
In hopes the flames beat it back, keep tendrils from drawing near.
Slowly it tastes it's fill of wooden planks and blood.
It leaves a sodden salt strewn smell seeming to just dissolve.
Folding back on itself, returning to the brine.
Fog waits yet another morn to return to shore and dine.
Jun 10, 2010
Jun 10, 2010 at 8:14 PM UTC
Tremors and aftermath
Resonate through the soul
Toppling confidence
And shaking foundations
Hectic mayhem
Everyday
Deadlines to meet
Marching ever closer
Preparations to be done
Finishing? Well, almost
Never
Efforts paid
Going up in flames
The smoke covering
The living daylight
And also suffocates
Raiders and robbers
Stealing what's dear
Taking everything away
Killing hopes and dreams
I am starting to fear
Seven days
Seven twins
Maybe fourteen
Or more
They come and go
On and off
Much as I wouldn't want anyone
To know
The seawall held together
By a single thread
Of sheer willpower
Waves slosh
And threaten to spill
And the thread strains
To hold
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Define me..........
a pebble? a shell, out of many?
the ocean, that never runs out of water?
a bud of pale pink rose? slowly opening its petals?
a tree, whose network of roots
spread wider...deeper, neath the ground?
am i the pristine water cascading down a waterfall?
a boulder in an isle? a seawall braving the stormy winds?
could i be a beacon, a lighthouse? high above the raging waters?
guiding those weary travelers, towards placid waters?
am i one of the various faces inside a quaint coffee shop?
like one i see right now, with unfocused eyes?
having a cup of fresh brew...waiting for someone...old? or new?
And you....who might you be?
a jazzy sway, a dip? a painting? an instrumental tune?
are you the high and low of tide in june?
a story of lovers and sand dunes, that has no ending?
a haven for the homeless? a wall for the weak, those needing?
a kitten? a puppy? a bird, on a twig perching?
are you a voice in the night...calling me?
whispering my name to the wind?
is it you i hear singing, "The Long Run?"
did you come from Krypton? a falling star? a shooting star?
could you be one of the many faces inside a quaint coffee shop?
are you the one...with untainted smile headed towards me?
ahh, you're looking at my brew...you must be meeting someone too!
could we be, the you and me...the me and you?
who at this moment, are meant to have tea...for two?
Sally
Copyright September 1, 2015
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 6:13 PM UTC
I remember those days on the seawall;
wondering if the waves would come and crash
over our heads, hoping to be swept out
by the vicious tide, but only to turn back
and drift ever slowly back to the path
that haunted as the black ominous storm.
But you always stared out into that storm
and at the last second the sad seawall
was to your back, and on the brave new path
you set out, standing to the rise and crash
of the waves. “Just don’t forget to come back”
I’d scream, knowing the storm washed my words out.
I always knew not to follow you out
to the shore. You and I both knew this storm
and that the only safety was left back
at the comforting height of the seawall,
but somehow you ignored the flash and crash
of lightning set to us on a clear path.
But what if I had followed in your path?
Perhaps if I decided to walk out
to that shore, and allowed the waves to crash
at my feet, that the dark and frightening storm
would ease, the dauntingly distant seawall
no longer beckoning me to turn back.
Yet somehow it seemed simpler to turn back,
maybe it would be fair to say my path
and yours were not the same, and the seawall
could not stop you from your adventure out.
When the drop fell, were you lost to the storm?
I wished I could protect you from the crash.
Or maybe there had never been a crash…
you always seemed to find a new way back
at the gentle conclusion of the storm.
I’d see you strolling up your normal path
and the waves from the shore would follow out
to rest peacefully along the seawall.
“Maybe in the next storm…” I’d follow that path
and I will not look back to the seawall,
but out to the black cloud and blinding crash.
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 3:24 PM UTC
Where Galveston sits
Right off the coast
A deeply Southern
Emerald Isle
The seawall stretches
Follow its path
And bathe in the salt
The sharks wouldn't
Mind at all, I'm sure
Silver sand dollar
Razor sharp clams
Dog running along the coast
Trying to catch
The seafoam
But it disappears right away
Still, tongue hanging out
Happy
Sunlight, raining down
Little house, mid-town
Seems
nice
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
Last sunday, we go videoke.
Kaming unom, grabe'g panganta.
Naay nice ug tingog, naay okay ra,
naay wala gyud sa tono, naay nag sabay-sabay ra,
ug naay feeler gyud kaayo nga singer siya.
Niabot ang time, naka feel na mig uhaw.
Ni offer ang isa, isa ka bucket ambot ug unsa.
TOK TOK TOK ayay naa na ang gihulat,
tambal sa uhaw gipatong sa lamesa.
PAK! SMIRNOFF ANG GIDALA!
Kami nagpadayon ug kanta,
kachada sa pamati, sa ilimnong ma'lami.
Niabot ang last nga kanta,
Obladi, Oblada, tala na mamauli na ta.
Nihapit's balutan, mao na po'y gitirada.
Nanglingkod kadjot sa seawall,
nagpahangin gamay usa musakay.
Nipara mig cab kay hapit na alas dose,
sa rural basin mabiyaan mi.
Wa na gibyaan gyud, maygani naay super 5, pero tag 50 gyud.
Kami naabot sa tagsa-tagsang panimalay,
wow kalami sa akuang katulog bai.
Pagmata nako, nganong init kaayo ko?
Wa ko kasabot sa akuang gibati, gitugnaw ko pag ayo.
Yati, ngano man ni? Nag inom man unta kog vitamin C.
Pagka uran2 naa koy gi share sa fb,
nag react akuang miga kay sgalain pud daw iya ginhawa.
Taod-taod nag my day ang isa, gi dextrose kay gihilantan sab siya.
Nag text kos isa pa, kung ga daot pud siya.
"OO" mao na iyang reply,
*** why kami gyud upat dai?
Ang isa silingan ra namo, wala may gibati.
So, isa nalang kulang, akua gitawagan.
Wala mitubag, akuang manghod iyang gi chatan.
"Yes dai gihilantan pud siya", mao nay reply.
Wala nay lain, ang SMIRNOFF mao jud akuang pasanginlan!
Kaming lima baling yarok, sa smirnoff nga mabugnaw.
Ang isa wala nag mind kay nagsaad di gyud siya mo inom.
Mao toy amuang gidangatan, gipang ubo, sip'on ug gihilantan.
Grabe, unsay naa adtong smirnoff nila?
Ngano kaming lima ang naapektohan?
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
We watched the sunset
An everlasting flare sinking into the sea
we had just met
But it felt like an eternity
Since you stepped off that train
We spent the day walking the beach
Picking each others brains
Developing a flow of speech
We bought chocolate chip ice cream
watching the sun disapear into the rising tide
I saw your eyes gleam
Something clicked inside
On the seawall we sat only eight inches apart
But to me it felt like miles
Sometimes the hardest thing to do is to start
When faced with life's trials
But you made your move first
You sat right next to me and looked me in the eyes
Your eyes so green I thought they might burst
You kissed me then, under the burning skies
Aug 5, 2013
Aug 5, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
I dreamed that the heart of the ocean shot up into Heaven
******* breath and sleep and sense into the savage void
Tsunami swells of pain and grief pounded ship and shore and sailor
I felt the earth heave, heard the roar, reached out and touched the water
It felt like home
Like a brother, or a son
Then man built a seawall to protect the people
Poured in rubble to dissipate the ocean's rage
Built barricades to hide the sorrow waves and churning waters
Do not swim
Do not touch
Do not grieve
or speak
or be
I wake from the dream with grains of sand beneath my nails
Water streaming from my eyes
Like channels of salt across the pavement
My heart pounds--was that a roar?
I stumble forward, but cannot find the ocean
I reach out, but cannot touch the water
Where is the brother, or son?
I can not swim
I can not touch
But I can grieve
and speak
and be
And this will not last forever
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 10:04 PM UTC
Musty, salt smell, of a deserted home,
sitting by the seawall, viewing sand and foam,
assails the nostrils when you open the door.
See dust motes fly, spiders scurry on the floor.
Curtains hang as tattered rags and swaying,
in the breeze, through the cracks, like old flags waving.
As if wearily, signaling for a truce,
between the sea and the decay induced.
Sand comes down from ceiling beams as proof,
as to the storm worn holes, in the roof.
Of shingles blown off, during cold winter blasts,
sand trickles down, as if from an hour glass.
Time and the elements have dulled the shine,
of the woodwork and trim of knotty pine.
Cast iron water pipes, rusted out in places.
The claw foot tub, rest on it's Eagle braces.
Porcelain surface, chipped and cracked,
lath and plaster of the walls needing patched.
The little house sitting by the seawall,
that leans to the left and ready to fall.
Bulldozer sits ready, engine at idle,
to be let loose, push it into a pile.
Along with others like it in a row,
that once held town folks and saw children grow.
A new hotel made of metal and glass,
sterile exterior, no style nor class.
Will take their place, sitting by the sea wall.
Years ago, an oil spill caused the fall,
of this sleepy tourist town full of charm.
No one realized, the long arm of the harm.
They filtered the sand, skimmed off the water,
it was to late, the economy faltered.
Waiting out there, like vultures that scavenge,
was the Corporations, watching it happen.
When the town gasped, gave it's last dying breath,
in they did swoop, living off a towns death.
Aug 8, 2010
Aug 8, 2010 at 5:43 PM UTC
you walked along the seawall
with a girl taking photographs
with curly honey dipped hair
and creamy hazelnut eyes
she laughed like wind chimes
she held no bitterness
she laughed with you
the way I used to
before you hurt me
and my laugh
became a heavy yet hollow sound
only present in sarcastic venom
and when you weren't around
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 11:31 PM UTC
Steinbeck’s restless ghost whispers to me
as I tiptoe along a stone seawall.
He steers me away from the bay
back to the old sandstone churches
built by native hands,
back to music festivals and artisan fairs
full of mild, white cheeses
and would-be novelists arguing
about Henry Miller’s tropics.
But I’ve grown tired of his whispering
and no longer wish to dream of these things.
I would rather descend into a watery haven.
I will wave goodbye to John
and I will run down sandy paths
that lead to the sea.
I wade into the depths and sink
into a canyon where kelp shivers
in underwater breezes,
and the only stars I see will be
suction-cupped to the rocks below.
Jan 5, 2021
Jan 5, 2021 at 9:02 PM UTC
I watched her dance across the empty floor for no reason just her own simple pleasures and to simply show she was alive .
The music loomed heavy and she flowed with it a lover lost in its power.
Often we find solace in moments others dare not to intrude .
I said nothing just stood a viewer to this scene .
A fly to the wall with a ever fading drink.
She made me forget as she seemed to forget all as well.
I thought of the ocean and my times long since past .
The nights I sat by the seawall and viewed the ships like ghosts silent anchored off shore..
Friends whom no longer breathed life and painted my thoughts with stories .
She made me recall how being alone truly felt .
The music faded she was no longer there.
It was the close of a Saturday night my dreams had long since died .
Maybe we are all fools for trying when the deck is stacked against us.
Letting the time pass and are bodies go.
But then sometimes when in the moment with that music
you just have to allow yourself to flow.
I never could recall her name the dream never allows you the grace of
understanding.
For once I slept well through the night .
A vision of my desires kept me warm.
As the sunrise and reality soon brought me back.
One day I did hope it would
just allow me to go.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 3:45 PM UTC
sailboats at anchor
rocking slowly to and thro
small dogs barking high
frisking down the seawall
passing nannies and strollers
till i chase them back again
ringing my bicycle's bell
swooping around the corner
laughing in the wind
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
before the day the night retires
black tucked in by dawn's pale fingers
lifting a cover of sun
across damp sands
evaporating patterns withdraw to shore.
needle arms salute the clouds
trails of lycra ants
empty heads
from reds and whites
the week's download & lick of salt
night blanket gone
new slate to paint
scene of beacons & vessels floating
seawall haven
man on a board paddles the current
drifting a distance
in reach of shore
Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
Nobody lives
In the Here and Now
We live in a past
As it rips and trips
It's way
Through a future
Like an arrow through air
Never actually existing
In any absolute
Parameter
Of space or time
Hurtling through
The ever-present
Modulating waves
Of the eminent existence
Like the waves
Of water of an ocean
Upon meeting its own
Inevitable resistance.
Zone
The rocky shores up ahead
With nowhere to continue
Falling back
In futile retreat
Absorbed
Battered
By a past
Catching up at last
As the once
Forward-thinking
Now..... Ever shrinking
Mind
Of the actual
Factual
Suddenly reactional
Mortal
Who's
Primal human thoughts
That were
In the millionth
Of a millionth of a billionth
Of a second
scattered
When they were splattered
Upon
Slamming headlong
Into the time wall of Eternity
Like the seawall of an ocean where the Timeless spirit lives
Spinning out Reams and reams of time to be flung
Blown Away in the nothingness
Smiling as it works
time and time
Forevermore
listening to the past
As it
crashing upon the shore
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC