Cloud-vacant darkened sky,
muffled ears
under woolly coolness
of chocolate-icing water,
choppy,
unsmooth,
iced by an unprofessional
child-chef.

Stretched-out limbs
like a blown-up starfish
floating dumb and mindless
and alone.

Bobbing apples, eyes obscured
temporarily, under cold salt
swishing
swashing
slipping sliding.

Sticky candy-apple lips
pursed tight against
salty smoothness
licking
lapping
lisping loving.

Slow breaths flow freely
through nose,
sticking upright from the water like
ancient uncovered bones
from sand;
Wind whipping off years of hiding
to reveal
the unknown death.

Slowly floating, bobbing
silent, unaware
from the sand: waves washing
gently, nudging
against the starfish boy.

Leading him
away
from shore.

I'm as indecisive as it gets.
I'm the two sides of the coin.
Flip that coin. You will see both sides.
Copper will break.
Clad will break.
Nickel will break.
You will hear the sound of metal swashing.
It'll be two fast for your brain to elucidate, so fast you're brain will hurt.

Your veins will hurt from the rush.
Your neurons from fury.
You will want to break the coin in a thousand pieces instead.
You will.
Then every piece will want to break in half.
I'm the two sides of every piece of metal of that coin.

When it comes to him, I'm as shattered as it gets.

Your eyes will hurt from the brightness.
When it comes to him, I'm as radiant as it gets.
I'm the blaze of a thousand piece of nickel puzzling your sight.
Add up all the radiation. your eyes will hurt.
You will be blinded.
I'm as blinded as it gets.

Clothes will want to rip themselves apart.
They will.

Skin will want to peel itself.
It will.

I'm as naked as it gets.

I'm the two sides of the coin.
Shatter that coin into a thousand piece.
Shatter each piece into a thousand world.
Shatter the world into a thousand coin.
I'm the two sides of the thousand coin of the thousand world of the thousand piece of the coin.


Ageless in time.
Motionless in space.


When it comes to him, it's as impossible as it gets.

Each day I ****, on a Whiskey bottle
As my life, also does **** on me
My worth on earth, about as much
As my **** is, to the sea

Inside this swashing jug, a raging sea
Sets me adrift, atop a cresting wave
Then pulls me under to such depths
That my soul, I can no longer save

With each gulp, I stir the bowels
Arouse the sediment and silt
And as it settles, I hope it hides
Or at least, obscures my gilt

Every mouthful, flays my throat
Like waves, they break into the rocks
Smashing, spraying, then dissipating
Where the Devil stands and mocks

I drink until, my mind goes blank
Then plunge into the floor
At last, a drunken blissful peace
Until I wake, once more

So as I lay here, on this deck
Inebriated, dying in this flask
I think of you and what we had
If forgiveness, I could only ask
BOEMS BY JA 614

Fiery broth and witch's brew
Foamy froth and riches blue
Fume and spume and spoondrift spray
Fizzle swizzle shout hooray
Watch it sloshing, swashing, sploshing
Hear it hissing, squishing, spissing
Grandma better start to pray.

Pitter
  Patter
Ever thought of the life of a raindrop
  Flying through the atmosphere 
Such an idyllic trip
  Then Splat!

Shhh
   Shhhhh
But that's not the end of the story
   Filtering through rocks and sand
An inevitable journey
   Then Splash!

Swishing
   Swashing
Travelling in underground caverns
   Darkness slowly ebbing
Light sneaking in
   Then Flash!

Trickle
   Trickle
Rivulets become streams become rivers
   And all the while flowing to the ocean
A delightful destination
   Then Ouch!

Whisper
   Whimper
Old Sol beams down his scorching rays
   Drawing water vapours into his embrace
Rising, grouping, clouding
   Then . . .

Sometimes I hear ringing...
Ringing in my head
Along with all the wails and shrieks
All screeching and yowling
Demanding to be heard above each other
While I hear ringing...
In my head.
Sometimes I hear ringing...
Like the sound of the Big Ben
Or tick-tock of a watch I lost a long time ago.
Ringing...
Like the trickling and beeping of the traffic
flow
at Maryland bridge
On a cool Thursday evening.
The swishing and swashing of the semi-
twisting waves
Splashing on the beach
During a night reign...
Of soaking rain.
The chirping of birds and flutter of
butterflies
Rustles of the tree leaves and hissing of the
snake
They hide below.
As I cocked my head, my mental ear listening
I suddenly remember that...
Sometimes I hear ringing...

Love is a pink diamond, it's ice cold sunshine
An invaluable antiquity that can't be sold
It's the dance of the moon to the music of the stars
Love is a quiet whisper of the tides in the storm
a new shock absorber smoothing an off-road adventure
It's the joy of weaver birds praising the rising sun
the swashing sway of trees in the early morning breeze
Love is a palm by the sea, a chain of liberty, a key
an invaluable painting hung up the walls of a heart
a slow roller-coaster that lets you savor the view whilst on the ride
Love is kids playing in rain, letting nothing steal their thunder
Love is the Masai mara, a breathtaking wonder
Love is a spark that sets hearts ablaze
It's an eternal flame, in a mysterious haze.

-and we were sat
in front of the sea
illuminated in moony streetlights
watching the silver worm of the swashing waves
inky black except for that contact

and across the water
distant lights shone, red, yellow, white
fast food commercialised with the big yellow M
sitting in our laps
the night cold, and we two shivering
although we both refuse to be warmed by the other's coat

and our song plays
and I look to you
sat by me on the cold bench
you, physical, mass, warm and breathing
you existing
and the song carries on

our mistakes, they were bound to be made,
but I promise you I'll keep you safe

and I do promise
because you are there
breathing next to me
and you exist
and that's all I need

there is fogginess
and yet i see every particle of air
the pieces that make up that particle
i focus to count
it blurs over again
i can hear the sound of so many things
cars swashing by
wind blowing
leaves rustling
but i can’t pick out the individual
the sound melds
all i can hear is grey

i can feel my mind inside my head
it is whole
it is nothing

To a.g., and all the clichés that suffice.    

Here lies the Ocean’s haunting question:
Is it a curse or a gift to be who I am?

                                Who are you then?

Soft touch suffices to smother.
Songs that scream with thunder.  
Hidden depths enough to drown.

Through the sound of the waves
Swashing, breaking, stilling...
The answer of the Earth dawns
In resounding cadence:

A storm is but another name for baptism,
And the Gift of Life I embrace.

the man in the yard rakes leaves
splashes them into a pile
flourishes his rake over and over
swashbuckling like a Hollywood pirate
in a choreographed action scene
as though he’s dancing,
his diligence giving him grace
his movements clear the grass of the litter
changing brown to green
he begins on another area, raking motions
like gentle waves on a beach
forward, backward, side-to-side
repeating them again and again
revealing more green
swashing the yard with his rake-sword
a ballroom dancer with no audience but me
in standing ovation


c. 2023 Roberta Compton Rainwater

my lungs lost their balance
they are swish swashing around
forgetting how to breath
they are exclaiming, whooah-oh!
and falling down
like little kids playing in the sand

How soft and comforting
To sit upon the beach
Clutching handfuls of warm sand
And gazing upon the glistening sea

The waves obey the to and fro
Swishing and swashing
As gulls surf the skies above
And children play at waters edge

Fresh briny air cools our faces
As we pick pebbles and stones
Until we decide to return home
Happy once more