"seaweeds" poems
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
they wept, tearing out their hair
and tossed it into the ocean
turning it into seaweeds.
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who then hid themselves in caves, till they passed
their skin growing pale and lifeless
till feathers emerged from their hands.
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
who decided to mutilate their legs
and scar their feet
so they would no longer be human.
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
and the creatures wailed as loud as they could,
screeching noises, ringing
but sounded only like bells to men.
the sailors called the sirens beautiful
but they didn't see beauty or sin
instead,
walking vessels
an empty name
and a prize to win.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 3:13 PM UTC
You are the type of boy whose got saltwater in his bloodstream, bones like coral, and a heart made of driftwood – and at this point I’m just hoping someday you’ll wash up on my shore. I have seen the broken glass and beer bottle caps tucked in the folds of your sandy skin. I know how you left cuts on the feet of those who walked all over you. They were never sorry and you always were. Everyone else was too busy molding you into mangled and misshapen castles, only to stomp on them. Your soul was tangled in a mess of seaweeds and deep-sea debris. No one ever saw the brilliance of the sun's reflection in your smile that made you more dazzling than a million diamonds. But I noticed from the beginning that you were more than a temporary vacation spot or a convenient photo-op. and the shark-infested waters in your head shrank to puddles when you spoke to me in words like waves. To this day I can’t figure out what I did to deserve to be the only one you’ve ever allowed to explore your ocean floors, but I am grateful. I pressed my ear to your chest like it was the mouth of a conch shell, and heard the entirety of your ache without you saying a single thing. Violent storms churned in your belly at the hand of faceless puppeteers; made seasick by countless careless captains. But the sky cleared instantaneously the moment I came aboard. The same sun whose rays you’d always been wary of, now kiss your face the same way i wish to, taking utmost care not to burn. Your laughter is a school of fish filled with more colors than I can count and the sound of your sleeping breath is an ocean breeze. I am in love with the perfect shoreline curve of your mouth. Every day I find various buried treasures in your hidden coves and sunken ships, and I don’t think I’ll ever tire of discovering you.
- m.f.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
I
I see the boys of summer in their ruin
Lay the gold tithings barren,
Setting no store by harvest, freeze the soils;
There in their heat the winter floods
Of frozen loves they fetch their girls,
And drown the cargoed apples in their tides.
These boys of light are curdlers in their folly,
Sour the boiling honey;
The jacks of frost they finger in the hives;
There in the sun the frigid threads
Of doubt and dark they feed their nerves;
The signal moon is zero in their voids.
I see the summer children in their mothers
Split up the brawned womb's weathers,
Divide the night and day with fairy thumbs;
There in the deep with quartered shades
Of sun and moon they paint their dams
As sunlight paints the shelling of their heads.
I see that from these boys shall men of nothing
Stature by seedy shifting,
Or lame the air with leaping from its hearts;
There from their hearts the dogdayed pulse
Of love and light bursts in their throats.
O see the pulse of summer in the ice.
II
But seasons must be challenged or they totter
Into a chiming quarter
Where, punctual as death, we ring the stars;
There, in his night, the black-tongued bells
The sleepy man of winter pulls,
Nor blows back moon-and-midnight as she blows.
We are the dark derniers let us summon
Death from a summer woman,
A muscling life from lovers in their cramp
From the fair dead who flush the sea
The bright-eyed worm on Davy's lamp
And from the planted womb the man of straw.
We summer boys in this four-winded spinning,
Green of the seaweeds' iron
Hold up the noisy sea and drop her birds,
Pick the world's ball of wave and froth
To choke the deserts with her tides,
And comb the county gardens for a wreath.
In spring we cross our foreheads with the holly,
Heigh ** the blood and berry,
And nail the merry squires to the trees;
Here love's damp muscle dries and dies
Here break a kiss in no love's quarry,
O see the poles of promise in the boys.
III
I see you boys of summer in your ruin.
Man in his maggots barren.
And boys are full and foreign to the pouch.
I am the man your father was.
We are the sons of flint and pitch.
O see the poles are kissing as they cross.
3.4k
.
*The sensual caress
twilight mist impearled flesh
alighting a feral desire
within blossoming spring petals
The newness of uncovered skin
a sweetness on unsated lips ,
the taste of passion and salty *******
with hastened breath
sighs do brush with warm ****** breeze
across my naked chest
wild feathers sweeten
tender touch
... emanating
sensual awakenings
Arousing buried desires
unable to hold back
constant cravings
the inevitable currents
pummeling shameless floodgates
with arising untamed springtides swell
Fleshly enslaved yen --
energy sprouts tingling sensations
nascent buds blossoming deeply
flourishing exploding flames
bursting flush
... deliciously white hot
In an unstoppable carnal moment
passion betides
like the surging sea ;
Rising and falling crescendos
unleashed waves crashing ,
drowning in the rhythmic undertow
interlaced bodies heaving adrift in the moment
like entangled seaweeds
in a riptide
as the rolling thunder storm
dances across invigorated tides
with a surging cadence of cresting waves bloom
caught in the Rhythm and the Sea*
✩ ✩ ☼ ✩ ✩
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
The sun is warm, the sky is clear,
The waves are dancing fast and bright,
Blue isles and snowy mountains wear
The purple noon’s transparent might,
The breath of the moist air is light,
Around its unexpanded buds;
Like many a voice of one delight,
The winds’, the birds’, the ocean floods’,
The City’s voice itself, is soft like Solitude’s.
I see the Deep’s untrampled floor
With green and purple seaweeds strown;
I see the waves upon the shore,
Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:
I sit upon the sands alone,—
The lightning of the noontide ocean
Is flashing round me, and a tone
Arises from its measured motion,
How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.
Alas! I have nor hope nor health,
Nor peace within nor calm around,
Nor that content surpassing wealth
The sage in meditation found,
And walked with inward glory crowned—
Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.
Others I see whom these surround—
Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;—
To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.
Some might lament that I were cold,
As I, when this sweet day is done,
Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,
Insults with this untimely moan;
They might lament—for I am one
Whom men love not,—and yet regret,
Unlike this day which, when the sun
Shall on its stainless glory set,
Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.
Yet now despair itself is mild,
Even as the winds and waters are;
I could lie down like a tired child,
And weep away the life of care
Which I have borne and yet must bear,
Till death like sleep might steal on me,
And I might feel in the warm air
My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea
Breathe o’er my dying brain its last monotony.
2.2k
As the shadows began lengthening
I slowly walked to the sea shore
Through the cobbled path
With stinging stones under my feet
And piles of golden clouds floating above
Enjoying the whistling of the wind through the reeds
Inhaling the saline air, smelling of rotting seaweeds
On the vast strand, I stood for long
Feeling the foamy fringes of water lapping at my feet
And sensing the sand slipping away under my feet
I watched the gentle undulating billows
Rolling their silver volumes
As if to die away on the happy shores
The sapphire waters and the roaring waves
The churning tides and the feathery foam
Made me wonder at the horror and beauty
That ****** dichotomy Nature carries within
I saw numerous fishes gambol beneath the waves
Do the finny herds that roam
The fathomless valleys of the Deep
Ever experience the tumult and scuffle
Of the roaring waters?
Oh! Never!
Like them, I too floated weightless
With all the barbed distractions drifting away
Wishing to get a pair of wings of the swallow flying high
To soar safely away from all gadflies who disturb
And cocooned in the inner citadel of my privacy
Enjoying a permeating peace, I had seldom known!
Then Byron’s words came floating to me
Mingling with the cadence of the waves
‘There is rapture in the lonely shores
There is society where none intrudes’
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 8:53 AM UTC
Eddying currents
In its churning funnel face
Sea weeds swirl quivering
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
Floating seaweeds
in a miso soup
my heart grows
and I find patience
near the bottom
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
(Chiara, Francesca, Rosa and Pedra remained on the beach.)
Chiara and Pedra decided to take a look along
The coast to search some food; Francesca and Rosa carried
The boat across the beach to hide it; 'How can you be so strong? ''
Asked Rosa; ''I listened to Chiara when I got married.
We depleted a fortune and Lucca was very rich.''
''So, this strength of yours comes from your tristesse, '' replied Rosa.
''My inner emptiness became affection.'' 'She's a witch.''
'She's a good soul, but inside her, she keeps thorns of mimosa.''
They had to undergo that difficult time and to
Organize their lunch; Rosa stopped to sip some drops of water
From the canteen she carried, '' it's entirely up to you
To leave him now.' ''My father is ill; I'm his only daughter.''
They were tired after the grim events of the previous
Hours; meanwhile, Chiara and Pedra were sifting through the salty
Air of the beach. Chiara said, '' I don't trust Fargo, he's devious.''
''We have no other chance, '' replied Pedra. ''His logic is faulty, ''
Continued Chiara, ''they should remain here with us.''
Pedra stayed for a few minutes being caught by the sparkle
Of the broken waves; she said, ''we have something to discuss.
Don't you think that your ideas are too matriarchal? ''
They enjoyed the salty stink of the seaweeds and the clicking
Of the living shells that they had tossed together for the meal.
While eating, they cut off the mollusks from their sticking
Shells; dozens of gulls were wheeling over the waves. ''Pleasant peal, ''
Said Francesca, '' the chance of meeting another one while
Staying here is very slim.'' '' I really grasp the scale of our
Surroundings, '' said Chiara while giving her seaweeds with a smile.
Rosa said, '' eat some kumquats, figs, and pears; you need power.''
(Rosa brought some fruits to complete the meal.)
(To be continued…)
Poem by Marieta Maglas
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 6:10 PM UTC
Betrayal or indifference
the silent killer garbed in blue
the lacy attire
i'm spacebound and here it's all blue
I keep going higher
the hands you dealt me
iron or ice
hard and cold like the truth
The desert cactus
can't crawl to the oasis
all it does is gracefully wait
and looks upward to the blue sky
Following suite i look down
hoping you'll see
i'm lost and lonely
between the shades of blue of the sky
and the ocean
The wilted cactus and me
sailing the same blue boat
abandoned and castaway
aground
the anchor drowned
This is the end of all means
to keep afloat
and also the beginning
collecting the smithereens
Like seaweeds carpeting the ocean
and choking it to death
the silent killer garbed in blue
swallowed all my words too...
Which rolled down as tears
yes i cried
when you left
though you were hardly there
even when you were around
The solace now laid to rest
cemeteries of fallen cheers
the wilted cactus died
and i'm still spacebound
awaiting the same fate....
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Kingdoms more,
Kingdoms sore
Passing the guards—
Like busting bars
Riddles compact— From the numbers,— Etched in Hollow Blocks
The fact of goners—
Hit the doors,— and punch the backs— In hied, to navigate the tracks—
To boost out— Parts.
Steep lands embed this twisted wanderer—
Aches the leaves and humps— Pushing to slouch
As I beg the ground— Not to pound—
For the planes to switch rounds.
Offsprings declined the measures— of luxuriant wands
The caverns feed the infant's boredom
Does hold the dome—
For loitering dogs
An insatiable ****
That climbs for ripe fruits—
And wildly shouts— The beggar's principles
Here and there— Values— Then eats apples.
The weathering turned the rocks to dust
I must— crumple my tasks
Ah, the shallows..
On search for walloped hearts— Of shortened wage;— Of weak grips
Oh, I thirst for distance
Lay down barks! Lay down!
**** the shallows!
God, oh God,—
Is this the penalty for swindling clemency?—
Just crumbs..
Just crumbs..
For open mouths..
Oh, why they broke it?
Face down,— I crawl to this warmth
They fade..
So I kneel for a while— With curved points— To the unknown shore
What beauty relies from there?
I am bandaged by whipped words
Tell the pending men— Of my bare tense..
Sigh and sigh..
The sand and seaweeds
Caressing the voyager's rest
Refresh the bonds of East and West—
From the rise and fall— Of Sailors' flow
Collide the surfers— With tentacles of Immortality!
The commands of Tides—
Emerge a Hurricane— to blow its treasures— with the Strakes!
Alas, the whales jump—
Splashing with the crystals
I know now..
The vast,— This is my Wealth— My True Luxury
My Kingdom calls me..
I shall embrace my prize..
I swim the bottomless Abyss..
They landed on my spot—
With only slacks on sand—
And the surface reads—
"Hah, I'm Rich Now!"
May 25, 2020
May 25, 2020 at 3:16 AM UTC
Life is like ocean waves lapping on the beach. Humanity is the ocean, waves are you and I. This is the flow and ebb of life. We are born and then we die. Often there are storms in the interim, hurricanes, even a tsunami. Each wave brings upon the shores seaweeds of sorrow, starfish of hope. Castles of dreams we build. Some we realize, others are washed away. The blue sky may turn dark at times, but always does the yellow sun exist, even if at times we cannot see it. At night, the moon casts its spell upon glistening waves making their inexorable way to shores around the world. Soon night will become day as new waves roll in.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 2:09 PM UTC
Snowy sentiments silted up
the soft sediment of my senses,
sifting silently my dreams
of sensitive seduction,
solely to send my thoughts to shores
with coloured sands and stunning steep sights
with sweeps of sea, that swell so high
the sun scintillates the surface spray
shimmering and shining,
spreading over the horizon,
as the soughing of the wind swings seagulls,
swooping serenely southwards,
past the slabbery seashells
and slap-happy waves that swish up the beach,
soporifically smudging seaweeds
against the sleeping surface
of the smooth glacial rocks,
spattering silky foam in spots
of saffron-tinted shapes, over their structures,
surreptitiously sinking into the saline cracks.
Margaret Ann Waddicor February 2013.
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 3:51 AM UTC
An Exercise in Love
~for Jackson Allen
My friend wears my scarf at his waist
I give him moonstones
He gives me shell & seaweeds
He comes from a distant city & I meet him
We will plant eggplants & celery together
He weaves me cloth
Many have brought the gifts
I use for his pleasure
silk, & green hills
& heron the color of dawn
My friend walks soft as a weaving on the wind
He backlights my dreams
He has built altars beside my bed
I awake in the smell of his hair & cannot remember
his name, or my own.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
If morning had never graced its presence that day,
Would you still have upped and gone away?
And if the sun had never shone that dawn,
Would I still be alone, this early morn?
If the stars had never ceased,
And the darkness had kept its presence,
If the night had never drew in
And the moon stayed ever crescent
Would you still be laying by my side
Would there still have been that change in tide?
Because since the seas direction changed
I've been left in the remains, off shore
Fighting for something,
Though for what I'm unsure.
I've been treading water at a steady pace,
But there's only so long, can race
Before time comes and takes our place.
And the seaweeds are starting to pull me under
And the clouds in my mind are starting to thunder,
I search desperately for shelter, solid ground,
I long to be found,
But the shift in tide has bound
Me
A daughter of the sea,
Alone, trapped in we.
And my heart lays heavy,
In a bottle of sherry
Too heavy to keep afloat
So send out your rescue mission
Your men and boats
But they will not find me,
I am entangled in chains,
And the remnants and remains
You cannot see.
So as I drown, in this bottle of whiskey
Consumed by the taste
From the last time you kissed me,
Fuelled by the solace at our loss of history
Do not try to save me,
You are the one who deserves to be free.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:02 AM UTC
Surfing black waves
Diving deep within unknown caves
Going without knowing a destination
What infatuation
Dark waters covering sight
Seaweeds tickling feet
Temping to pull under what might dare to enter their space
No skies above or light seen
Sounds muffled under deep green color
The feeling of floating and sinking combined
One single lonely feeling that almost died
Forever it lives on as the moon moves the tide
Ever-changing but never fleeting inside
Terminal depths and loved kept
Hidden are those who understand the scene
Displayed before your eyes above, although unseen
Surf the blackness of waves never failing gratification
Dive into the depths without knowing destination
Allow weeds that tickle your feet to pull you under, they tempt
Swallow the deep green waters of a bay where others are exempt
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
One by one, individual then group
Faces look up, shine to the sky
Elation rippled, and the town shuttered
A horrible creature, stood once more
Stepping from the sea, building beneath foot
Timber to toothpick, stone ground to sand
It stretched, edge of horizon to edge
Wing tips ripped the sky, lightning crashed
It's eyes, madness dripped from dark orbs
Claws tips fingers, hung on heavy arms
Muscles grew and gathered, ignoring effort
As it dragged tails, seaweeds barnacled and old
It had come to Bon Homme, as legends foretold
Villagers succupiants now, of purest joy; driven mad
Tearing at their hair and flesh, screams announcing its rebirth
It cast its eyes west, as if it's gaze focused on a desire
And it's head turned, toward sea once more
Almost reluctant to leave its womb, cold embrace
It's mouth bellowed, no earthy sound
Tentacled fingers around its mouth, stretching; writhing
That sound, not heard but shattering minds
Eyes began to bleed, then run down
Ichor down faces, ruined with black
Ears drained, sick yellow
One by one, individual then group
As this God strode, once more
Dropped, lifeless bodies shone
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
If morning had never graced its presence that day,
Would you still have upped and gone away?
And if the sun had never shone that dawn,
Would I still be alone, this early morn?
If the stars had never ceased,
And the darkness had kept its presence,
If the night had never drew in
And the moon stayed ever crescent
Would you still be laying by my side
Would there still have been that change in tide?
Because since the seas direction changed
I've been left in the remains, off shore
Fighting for something,
Though for what I'm unsure.
I've been treading water at a steady pace,
But there's only so long, can race
Before time comes and takes our place.
And the seaweeds are starting to pull me under
And the clouds in my mind are starting to thunder,
I search desperately for shelter, solid ground,
I long to be found,
But the shift in tide has bound
Me
A daughter of the sea,
Alone, trapped in we.
And my heart lays heavy,
In a bottle of sherry
Too heavy to keep afloat
So send out your rescue mission
Your men and boats
But they will not find me,
I am entangled in chains,
And the remnants and remains
You cannot see.
So as I drown, in this bottle of whiskey
Consumed by the taste
From the last time you kissed me,
Fuelled by the solace at our loss of history
Do not try to save me,
You are the one who deserves to be free.
If morning had never graced its presence that day,
Would you still have upped and gone away?
Or would we have stayed, forever embraced, fingers interlaced,
In a morsel of romance.
And if the sun had never shone that dawn,
Would I still be alone, this early morn?
And would we still have had to mourn over our loss?
If the stars had never ceased,
And the darkness had kept its presence,
If the night had never drew in
And the moon stayed ever crescent
Would the tides of change still have to flow,
And form a drift between us two,
Would we have to mourn our history,
Would we still be through?
Though maybe if the morning had never come,
and if the sun had never shone,
and the stars had never ceased,
Your chance of happiness would be gone,
And I treasure that of yours,
More than I do of mine,
So let the sands of time sift between us two
Let the stars shine and the moon not confine, you.
Let dawn break, as we awake to a new day
Let the tide change
And let the remains
Embrace you in all the joy you deserve.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
I was one to stare at the restless waves,
Hour after hour on the lonely beach
They filled my despair with the promise
Of forgetfulness and permanence.
I listened with soothing anticipation
For the soft crashing on the shore.
An uncluttered world split three ways-
A fine line between the sky and ocean grey
And the jagged graph the retreating waves
Leave in amber on the moist sands.
I sat detached among empty shells
Content that the sea spray filled the air
Pungent with the rotting seaweeds.
I was the only living thing around-
Contemplating the basic elements
To seasons defined by my clothing.
But lately I return to this wooded meadow
Where seasons rule and force their will.
Where summer is cloaked in shades of green
Which transform to the earthy tones of autumn;
Here the crystalline of the ice storms glare;
And now, before me, trees and shrubs awake,
The sky disappears to the spreading leaves
And I am one small life beneath the canopy,
As spring flowers with birdsong and buzzing;
Yet the fox and snake scatter through the ivies,
The spider webs stretch from branch to bough;
Such magnificence among the hidden terror
As all around the unseen butchers of survival
Carry out their missions of life and death-
As I play my part in the proliferation
Renewed with a simple joy to be alive.
May 7, 2018
May 7, 2018 at 12:53 AM UTC
A myriad of azure and sapphire,
sweeping over the bronze shoreline.
Siren's music to beholder's ears.
Mellow mellifluous sea breath,
twirling with the salty summery breeze,
whisking her to Eden...
Gurging wee white waves,
sliding and splashing onto toes,
alluring her to soak in the sea.
Gliding in the calm waters,
her hands building wonders...
Clam for panes,
seashells adorning the bay doors,
moat of seaweeds...
Enchantress's own castle,
born of moist sand,
along the sun-kissed ocean,
The sire of shoreline...
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 9:12 AM UTC
Wet winter on a beach
everything is grey
sky and wet sand
decorates the feet
of seagulls
skylarking
hauling left-rights through the gusts
Seaweeds embellish the foam
Bobbing their heads
up now and again for rescue
Each rush of wind seals an escape from
sense and
silence
In the maelstrom
I merge into obscurity
The sounds of my weakness unclear
Smooth nothing
black and white
paradox
not dangerous
not visible
not cloud mist or tears
MChallis © 2015
May 9, 2015
May 9, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
You were making the weather, I think
when you found me alone, all tethered in sinuous seaweeds
You had brought the sky inside with you.
What else could you do?
Damascus steel, your snarl
Hard, beautiful, sharp, distinct. An art.
You let the rain have your heart, for a moment, didn't you?
What else could you do?
Your footsteps are music that I can't quite hear
But your face is a season of songs--lyrics screamed at God.
Tear me from my torpor, please, no matter the violence.
What else could you do?
Distance means more than one thing, I suppose; and separation
Of land. Of daring. Of intent and of want.
List holy places and honey their names...
Eden, Asgard, Avalon,
Camelot, Elysium (Aluminum! Linoleum!)
I'd settle for Akron if you'd meet me there,
or Butte, even.
Your eyes buzz and hum or retreat and freeze over
and I? I follow their lead when I see them.
I can do nothing other.
Whenever I wander, I think of your shape
or the shape of your thinking.
I can do nothing other.
This, then, is a prayer now.
I pray with your name, which I'm always whispering.
I can do nothing other.
Apr 15, 2025
Apr 15, 2025 at 11:07 AM UTC
HWilliams
12/12
We wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us...
to take notice. I notice. And I'm wayward in this sea search, drowning around seaweeds,
dizzy with the thought that these seeds,
over the course of these years,
soaked by my rain puddle of Alice tears
grew to an ocean, now home to schools of strengthened species
who will never ever ever have to cry,
to breathe through weakness or to bleed through pain,
instead--
We dance-- tread in slow motion sound
thread through the song
I am, we are, slave to the drown.
We weep with the waves of sound, they sweep us away, way down
then up,
a shift of weight while weightless,
we wait for the moments, but mostly, they wait for us...
to take notice
to become
to live through
to live through fully
to feel the weight of being carried
by the sound
on waves of sound
we seek to astound
all who see, all who hear
to make them see what we hear,
to make them feel
what we feel
who we are
what we can be.
I weave through this sea of weeds, is seas of sound,
and I think
I start to see me.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
The waves whispered its last words as it slips back into the deep , mysterious ocean. The whales of the ocean hollered its song, looking for its soulmate , searching for love . The seaweeds sways back and fro reflecting the sun’s light from the heaven above.
As the wind skips on the water , the ocean starts to dance, its waters shoots up from the abyss and waters gathers themselves to form magnificent waves as enormous as the Great Wall of China.As the storm draws near, the wind gets stronger and slices through the waves , causing plants to be out of the sand , and those still holding on swayed vigorously , like a thrashing storm . Even through this , the song of the sea continues … Deep , deep down in the depths of the ocean.
Then , like a knife piercing through the air , the wind went silent , causing silence throughout the sea , the fishes still shocked by the storm slowly but surely crept out from it’s hiding and came out . Soon , the sun begun to disappear into the horizon and the moon crept out from its slumber . Stars sprouted out at the night sky , sparkling like diamonds . The cities of the world have begun to sleep , so was the sea.
The sun then shone it’s light onto the waters with a golden hue , as it crept out of the horizon , it’s light stretched out onto the vast earth . Soon , the earth came alive again and the sea sang its most beautiful song , it’s masterpiece …. THE SONG OF THE SEA …. Although the day ahead might be filled with problems , the creatures of the sea still sang and danced . Although we do not notice anything of that sort , and that the sea is silent and deadly . But the truth is the sea is singing its song , it’s pride , a song that holds the ocean together …. THE SONG OF THE SEA.
Listen carefully and you might hear it….
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 6:38 AM UTC