"triton" poems
Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.
Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.
The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.
Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.
And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.
To reduce us all to such pathetic things.
That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.
As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.
And I understood why it took a much colder mind.
As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****
And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.
I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
The world is too much with us; late and soon,
Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers:
Little we see in Nature that is ours;
We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon!
This Sea that bares her ***** to the moon;
The winds that will be howling at all hours,
And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers;
For this, for everything, we are out of tune;
It moves us not.—Great God! I’d rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn;
So might I, standing on this pleasant lea,
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathèd horn.
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This winter air is keen and cold,
And keen and cold this winter sun,
But round my chair the children run
Like little things of dancing gold.
Sometimes about the painted kiosk
The mimic soldiers strut and stride,
Sometimes the blue-eyed brigands hide
In the bleak tangles of the bosk.
And sometimes, while the old nurse cons
Her book, they steal across the square,
And launch their paper navies where
Huge Triton writhes in greenish bronze.
And now in mimic flight they flee,
And now they rush, a boisterous band—
And, tiny hand on tiny hand,
Climb up the black and leafless tree.
Ah! cruel tree! if I were you,
And children climbed me, for their sake
Though it be winter I would break
Into spring blossoms white and blue!
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In Parsley, a Levantine munificence accreted together in Tabbouleh,
herbage that covers fractured bedrock in a poultice of healing.
Secreted within, lie igneous outpourings of bloodied tomatoes,
those solid affections that had welled through an ocean floor
as Neptune quelled Gaia's contractions, her waters seeking to burst
beneath the wrinkled surface of a salty sea. She, an underbelly of sky,
pregnant in the overwhelm of magma, sweating out her heart in fire,
muted like a moon of Neptune, in his retrograde soliloquies, yet mirroring
hers in icy resurfacings of skin. The God of the Sea, boils an amnion
to hazy mists, how deep will his trident plunge to dislodge those Trojan ships
of deceptions ? Yet, Triton blows a conch for Gaia, not for man's duelling
and his warring tribes. He soothes her feverish gnashing of thighs
labouring continents. Some fires burn in water, like desultory heartbeats
moving the pace of rocks through the ocean floor, spiriting away
to stranger places still, marking maps of memories in the beauty of
a stillborn magma. The limestone they say is no blood relation to such
alien fructification, those oceanic intruders, bleeding still, spilling
secrets in reds and purples. The acid tears spilled in lemons merely
neutralised in syllables, sedimented to a community of limestone,
that possess no archaic remnants reminiscing through dead bones,
an age of glory. Now beauty lies in herbage over once raucous magma
and traces of a salty sea, freshness of life trailing her veins, in fragrance of Parsley
Jun 24, 2021
Jun 24, 2021 at 7:15 AM UTC
she comes from the foam
the knife from her gut
hidden in her rolling cloak
taking steps along the shore
her coral hair
catching the light of the moon
she stumbles across a bonfire
a party for a prince’s fiancee
introducing herself to the couple
the girl stares past them at the slowly tossing waves
the lead her to the castle
giving her nicer clothes, a shower
the graceful princess
her gilded gown glistening
as she teaches the beauty of the sea
to brush her hair, use a fork
she walks with them.
...
the atrocities committed
by her new family
oil in the oceans
disastrous runoff
carried by the currents
putting the sea, her sea
to a slow and painful death
at night, she crept into their chamber
her knife unsheathed
shimmering, poised above her captors
she moved to strike
stopped, by a sea witch
the cruel being smiled
her teeth, cracked and crooked shells
striking a deal:
a life for a life
the sea maiden would be turned
a daughter of triton, son of poseidon
fins instead of legs
protecting the ocean, her home
from the inside.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 8:12 PM UTC
Skimming through the water, like a bird on wing.
Feeling the currents flowing, water spilling along my flanks.
Surging into the deep sea, searching for sunken ships,
Lost treasures to those above, merely decrepit scenery below.
Perhaps, more, to the sealife that shelters there.
This fantastic ability, to relate to earth's final mysteries in the deep.
Granted me, through a fluke of nature, gills filtering,
Scales protecting, tail and fins propelling forward
To ever deeper realms.
Hardly noticing the increasing pressures
Feeling tides pulling, seeing unfathomed sea creatures.
Appreciating the beauty and the power of the deep sea.
Triton may reside here, only stories to those above.
But the mysterious, deepness of this realm, begs belief in other gods.
Continuous exploration of this vast world,
Only brings me a small portion of its bounty.
Birth, life, death, cycling forever.
Brilliant design of creatures and systems,
Only glimpsed from above.
Denied to those who seek to categorize and quantify.
Life is not averages, statistics, and clinical review.
Being judged in labs by coated strangers.
Life indeed is deep, resounding, complex in every detail.
Microcosms of universes existing in harmony
Beneath waves brushing the sky.
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 8:55 PM UTC
Honestly,
I think about you every single day.
From the moment we first met,
To this moment today.
You simply amaze,
My heart is ablaze;
I fell for you in all sorts of ways.
Now here I am, missing you today,
As I sit here in silence, my heart feels astray.
And as the day comes to an end,
The thought of you drifts into my mind.
I lay back to relax,
After all, dreaming of you helps me unwind.
As I close my eyes,
The thought of us drifts through my head.
We're going places,
Full speed ahead.
You take my hand,
We're running through a prairie.
And before I know it,
We're surrounded by fairies.
To our left, there's a pirate,
Who's missing a hand?
"Look, flying above us!
It's Peter Pan!"
So Neverland is where you've decided to take me.
Where we never grow old, stay young, and fly freely.
Well, now it's my turn,
Take my hand and count down from three.
I'll give you a hint,
We'll be deep beneath the sea.
As you open your eyes you gasp!
We're right beside a whale.
I point down,
"Look, you've got a tail!
Come, follow me,
Through the deep blue sea.
I'll introduce you to my friends,
And of course, Chef Louis."
We swim down through a city,
To a palace, we are let in,
Where we meet Ariel, Flounder,
Sebastian, and of course,
King Triton.
A throwback to our childhood,
At least for me,
"I know you love water,
So let loose
Swim free"
After a while,
You give me a kiss,
"What was that for?" I ask
"It's for all of this"
You smile and say
"Even though this is great,
It's my turn now,
And I cannot wait."
You take my hand,
As we swim towards the sky.
"This time will be different,
It'll be just you and I."
"Where are we going?"
I begin to ask.
"You'll see soon enough,
Now put on this mask..."
"I feel so distant,
It's silent, are we far?"
You slide off my mask,
"Look at all those beautiful stars."
I stand there in awe,
Then look back to your face.
"Dear, wh-where are we?"
"You dingus, we're in space."
All around there are stars passing by.
To our right,
To our left,
Low and high.
"Dear, this is wonderful,
I love space!"
"I know," you say.
"It's an amazing place."
I hold your hands,
This dream has been so fine.
I lean towards you,
And feel your lips press up against mine.
As I open my eyes,
I'm back in my bed.
And missing you,
Well,
That's back in my head.
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 4:17 PM UTC
Quiet walks
Along the shore rocks
Waiting for a call
Just behind the seaweed wall
Turquoise shimmer
Dark shadows flicker
Candlelit meeting
For the one thing I've been needing
My legs become one
As I drift into the waters
Following one of Triton's daughters
Plummeting into the sea
But our time becomes limited
And back to the shore I drifted
Watching her slip away
Telling me come every other day
Looking out into the horizon's wefts
Begging God, "five minutes, please"
Love sunken with the memories
As she floats back into the oceans depths
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 1:25 AM UTC
-- Wish You Were Here -- standard postcard greeting
-- Poems aren't postcards to send home -- Anne Sexton
Dear friends, dear friends at home, resent
No pagan rite nor chance event
We've failed to photograph for you
With technicolor flair in the true
Late Tourist Style. Be satisfied
You're there, not here in Circe's herd
Or dodging stones some Giant's hurled
Or fending Triton's tempest blasts
Or lashed, like me, to a shattered mast
As tempting taunts roll down the tide.
When night winds grind the wheel of sleep
Consider Cyclops, counting sheep;
When home-fires cool, just think of us
Attending smokes more perilous!
Home-bound friends, be notified:
This holiday's a Trojan Horse.
The wine's gone bad. The weather's worse.
So mark our fates by this palsied hand:
*Have sacrificed most every man.
Now homeward-bound. Still terrified.*
Sep 10, 2011
Sep 10, 2011 at 5:47 PM UTC
I AM worn out with dreams;
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams;
And all day long I look
Upon this lady's beauty
As though I had found in a book
A pictured beauty,
pleased to have filled the eyes
Or the discerning ears,
Delighted to be but wise,
For men improve with the years;
And yet, and yet,
Is this my dream, or the truth?
O would that we had met
When I had my burning youth!
But I grow old among dreams,
A weather-worn, marble triton
Among the streams.
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The crashing waves roar
And the stormy winds blow,
The tide drowning out
And becoming low.
The sunset peaks
From across the sky
As the dolphins jump
And leap so high.
A woman emerges-
More like half woman, half fish.
She helds a seashell close to her heart
And makes a wish.
"Oh let my father see I belong
In the shore, not the sea."
She whimpers a cry
And whispers her plea.
The waves are roaring
And lightning strikes,
Signaling King Triton's arrival.
He has come forth to fight.
The mermaid cries
And starts back into the sea,
Where her father thinks
Is the right place to be.
She wants to be human,
That is her only wish.
If only her father would see
And grant her the gift.
She wants legs
To roam free,
But all she will be is a mermaid,
Lost at sea.
Mar 29, 2013
Mar 29, 2013 at 10:12 AM UTC
The night is soft like cashmere
and dotted with glinting demigods --
all of them knowing
that it is you I think of.
The moon is taking her leave tonight,
so the stars are my confidants.
Beyond the consoling whispers
of the Sycamore and Birch,
aside from the embrace
of Mariah's fair arms,
I can hear them --
the voices of those night-sky nymphs
and know they can see your face.
So I ****** out my song to them
knowing they will sing you my words...
wherever you are.
The miles between us know not our feet,
the frothy gates of Triton's realm
do not know our names...
but the sky sees our aspirations,
knows our stories...
the stars sing the songs of each mortal life.
Now I ask them
to carry you my longings
and I hear my melody
echo among them as they sing it into your dreams.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
My love for you,
Slips beyond the bounds of this earth,
Coating every inch, of every acre of land
Your feet might tread,
Before ascending to the heavens
To merge with your love
Amidst the wonders of the kosmos.
We dance upon the moon,
Bouncing and twirling,
But we don't tarry.
We blast off
And crash down on Mars.
And we lie together
Upon the cold red sands,
Let the wind whip past,
Spraying us with tiny particles.
Then we will smash right through the asteroid belt,
Bashing through anything that crosses our path.
We will watch the billion year storms of Jupiter,
Roiling and churning in magnificent patterns,
As we hold hands, and ice skate, on the surface of Europa,
Gliding together, in the kaleidoscopic light.
Off to Enceladus we will fly,
To witness the boiling geysers,
And watch as the scalding fluid turns to snow,
Adding a shower of sparkling crystals
To Saturn's brilliant rings.
We'll Swim in the methane sea's of Titan,
And kiss in the clouds, as we ride the storm currents.
Then we'll end our evening
On the surface of Triton,
And make love beneath the planetary glow,
Of the blue and white marble of Neptune,
Lighting our passionate embrace,
With a dim azure radiance.
The red of our lust combines,
And a purple luminescence releases from the surface,
As pulsing rhythm increases,
And we explode into one billion beams of light.
Reforming as we hurtle back
To earth, to our bodies,
To our bed, to our love, to us.
Earth, Bodies, Bed, Love, Us...
All the wondrous sights and sensations of the universe,
Are but minor miracles, compared to these five things.
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:07 AM UTC
We began innocently enough.
I certainly never set out to transform
from no one
into such a staunch example of judgment.
“confidence,” you scream,
and I cry, hoping for it.
You will never hear my respect
if you never let me speak!
And as much as the words I never said
cut you to the bone,
the assumptions you make--
that I would ever stoop that low,
bleed me dry and empty
of the blue blood that keeps me yellow.
To hear from party three and source
that you will still believe only yourself
when the evidence has cleared
a stone-faced jury
causes me to continually ponder
where I got these horns and triton.
I remember like a dream
that you yourself burned that triton
straight to my palm forever
and painted my tear-streaked eyes
to match these bleeding horns
you’ve driven deep into my skull.
They cause me to forget myself
and worship you in *******
as sacrilege sneers.
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 4:58 PM UTC
Would you dance among the stars with me,
Across the opaline galaxy,
And swirl the hem of your sable gown,
Where stardust stirs before falling down?
We’d glide around the rings of Neptune,
Untouched by the distant solar swoon.
His moons could softly light our ballroom,
Suspended where the nebulae bloom.
Triton’s glow will send a silver beam,
Casting shadows in our cosmic dream,
While his frosty crystals, hanging near,
Become our glittering chandelier.
Yet all I seek in this celestial tide
Is not the stars—only you by my side.
For even galaxies collapse and die,
But a love like ours will outlast the sky.
©️2025 David Cornetta
Follow me on Instagram for more and links to my debut collection “If Saturn Should Fall”
@sanddpoetry
May 21, 2025
May 21, 2025 at 1:22 PM UTC
The Post
Two poets love she exits by suicide others give a rose he gives the richest colors and the inner knowing of a rose
His struggle with death the impenetrate- able wall of stone bristles with sorrows painful thorns pleading ineffective
Together centered deep heartfelt discussions filled their time now one without the other he wobbles lost he goes
A train with the engineer but no firemen to stoke the boiler lost steam he runs on dreamless tracks no destination
Her vision now always at the periphery once it was the steady enduring light this he extolled with touching lines
The measure of a life can’t be taken just by earthen hours what mention is this it’s like saying the universe is empty
Or the oceans are just water a life started never ends it exceeds the reach of mortal thought forever is the souls times
Start life in confines of earthly structures you walk baby steps are the inhabitants that live beyond all that is known small
Towering scolding wonders will not be home to the timid but to those who invade they stride with confidence to Triton
Once with elements that were given to eroding and failure now their very veins charged with power that burns galaxies as twigs
See their flaming trail as they sail the dark space old worlds left now climb to the unknown there is where you place your piton
You knew them you loved them next when you meet you will roam with them you will be at war with worlds to conquer
Look beyond the dawn of time that’s your future now in human weakness it’s too much so it is shrouded what was will be again
No one can conceive or believe what guardian worlds know each day as tests the extreme the intoxicating wonder proclaims
The true statement the valor and creeds of men pale in comparison to the high activity and the weighty outcomes that now begin
First rapture the earth will know trouble in comparison to all wars combined since time began truth has brought peace to the faithful
Jan 1, 2012
Jan 1, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
If thoughts can
meet half way across
the ocean
and tornado a whirlpool
of the unspoken
King Triton would
be threatened
by the intensity
of human
expression
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 3:27 AM UTC
As I open the rusted - thumb folded pages of your tales,
burdened with grief of your passing and stories that fail.
Oceans' might is the witness of your altruism ,
you've bent sky and straighten tentacles beyond reasons.
Known you since you were a mermaid and little,
until the curse turned you into black-ink celestial.
Holding kings pride; leaving Kingdom and passing Eric's heart to Ariel,
crowing yourself as the villain despite being the ocean's pearl.
Land only remembers the voice you burgled from Red,
Diluted in water; Fight for Triton's Life - a battle unsaid;
Lost father’s acceptance, Eric's love, and Vanessa's legs to run -
A cruse from Triton only Eric's kiss could have undone.
Oh Ursula, you forgot, Magic comes with a price,
you lost your tail and the throne for your sacrifice.
You raised him from dead, got him life,
destroying yours and the mirror's sight.
I wish I was there to rewrite it differently
but, I am only a freckle in someone’s imagination’s epiphany.
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 2:50 AM UTC
Time triangle
.
Time
The pyramidial form bewilders me
It's main focus set in my blury eyes
The triton of fate on which
The destiny of my feeble soul lies
Of what answers to my poor
Soul seems to seek
.
When will my soul disappear?
Like the smoke from an old man's pipe
Vanishing into the clouds like it never existed
When will I pass from this physical life?
To embark on the journey to the pillars of the the world
My soul trembles because he know not bout his departure!
.
How will my soul evanescence?
Like stars fading away to avoid the day
Leaving no traces on the skylines
My soul troubles because he know not about his departure!
.
Where will I die?
Bidding farewell to this world!
Like young bride saying goodbye to
His fathers house
My soul grief for he know not about
His exit!
Balogun David
Drunk
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 1:16 PM UTC
Cast from hand
to unrelenting surge, impassioned:
Violent, broiling, lost.
Up from east,
air from sand,
lungs burning from salt-stung skin.
My pieces found
& lost again,
thrown at Triton's feet.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
As children we seem to skim across surfaces
Of our days’ tranquil lakes
Like the basilisk running on hind legs
Out-pacing our (lesser than Jesus) predators
Impossibly drowning them in the wake
Of that chase, as we are learning to shield ourselves
By striking first, so as not to feel
that blow of life’s cruel anger and exhaust...
We know how to wade the weeping
Wreckages of our mistakes & missed opportunities;
Mistook with misunderstanding’s book:
"An Idiot’s Guide to the Malady of Mishaps / Moroseness."
As adults we grow the necessary gills
To breathe our own tears' folkloric oceans seeming
Vast as Mithra’s museums of mummified cries,
Drowned moments we silenced inner deep blues' / sky.
We are Merfolk,
Watching here our ebbing tides
How once we had legs like ballerinas, swift & light
Like our worries to aging blight
Stymied timely introduction to Triton nights….
Deftly anticipating the arrival of hindsight’s
Deepest fight to catch the rye and nimble child
Above us now, while we watch them -- Kites
Of memories as in our far away / freedoms
On the surface of our wars' tear filled lakes
Losing our inner / liquid flight…
From youthful wings to fins, and wordless sting
Learning to sink, swim, and breathe
Again-- Life :
our unheard Ariel under the sea…
We are Merfolk of dreams oceanic kisses
Voiceless we will lack magic to raise our wishes
We learn to sing in seaweed with
Music of happenstance and waves of need
We are similar to those lost depths
Inequalities and struggles all abyssal deep.
So together as Merfolk must quiet that loud sea
Loss & histories of mountains / memory
Nautiluses drowning in love’s diminishing poetry,
We are merfolk, submariners toward mystery...
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
Staring holes into the universe
Gazing far beyond our galaxy
Watching acid rain on Venus
Leaving half of my thoughts on distant planets
I've been walking on Triton
I've been circling black holes
And yet, the most beautiful words
Come to my mind when it's empty
Looking for home among distant stars
While Earth's own beauty left its mark
So I'll take my journal and tent
And write down the whispers of this planet
While still embracing its cosmic neighborhood
Aug 14, 2025
Aug 14, 2025 at 7:23 AM UTC
I saw you in Roman Holiday years ago
but you are much thinner now
today is Monday
both you and your master have a day off
the sea horses make no waves
nor the Triton and the chariot
Wishing for a happy return
I stand with my back toward you
as done in the movie
and quickly toss
three five-hundred-lira coins
Hoping they won’t devalue too badly
before they hit bottom
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 6:52 PM UTC
-1-
“Listen up,” says the dependent
Conch lying in the shallows of home.
“I am full of cold air and hot waves;
Hold me up, and we will vibrate!”
-2-
The sand palace above provides a
Beneficent confessional for bivalves.
In the distance, but not far, are the
remnants of rusty pails and shovels.
-3-
A drone flies over, dropping its cargo
Of earthworms for the hungry snails.
There is little sound at all, even the
Habitat of the birds has been silenced.
-4-
The conch is aware of its potential,
Its nacreous offspring are valued.
If its luster fails to please, it can be
Traded as Triton’s magic trumpet.
-5-
Up and down the dunes, as far as
The eye can bear, lie the moribund.
Once the mayor and prophet to
Sea creatures, the conch now dies.
-6-
Flash forward, the anthropologist digs
Up deflated volley ***** snow-cone
Wrappers, ragged beach towels and
Half-empty bottles of sunscreen.
-7-
The morning newspaper reads:
“President declares state of emergency.
“Marine life biologists meet at Harvard,
Price of fish increases 50 percent.
© Lewis Bosworth, 3, 2017
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 11:10 AM UTC