"waveless" poems
Ethereal petals
blue
unfurling a presence
on the waveless
shoreless waters
bathed in golden light
a smile, a portal
to vaster worlds
unfolding
on the placid lake
a golden peace
unending dawn
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 3:59 AM UTC
Walt Whitman was a ******
That's what we say when we cross his bridge
from South Philly to Jersey
and see what he would see:
the river solid waveless with trees green around
feeding from the water on the left and far beyond
the watertable real for a minute from the arched metal
and the city visible wholly with warehouses rowhomes
inches apart and glass buildings and all burnt orange
by four o'clock sun but clear on blue sky
but you know he was a ******
and the city all one in your eye if you want it to be
and the languages together between the buildings
all the blacks asians whites itlalians irish polish
moving together and talking and eating the food
working and riding cars and buses around
the liberty bell and independence hall
it is brooklyn ferry it was his prophesy
but you know he was ******
a big jersey boy *** yea
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
. . .
. . . .
. . . . . . . . .
i stare at a docile ocean
waveless sun accosted
dark and shadow edged
tinned with men's brave
history of misconception i
'Dragonne'.
'Colossuus'.
'Cetaecean'.
- Leviathan ?
As sure as hope setting sail -
Past shoal, past shallow,
So each chase begins.
Lines parsing out,
Expectations coyly
Embroidered,
Entwin-ned.
- Leviathan ?
Pray please this narrative be drawn :
Truth for sake of safe harbour;
Stillness without caution;
Softly ripening dawn;
Jupiter and Venus descendant,
Celestial promise anon ?
- Leviathan .
Violence
the casual violence of life
the worst kind
not casual really but whats violence anyway
few knew why why ask why the few
once the dice flipped get
its a flying a mind a dunzo game
gravity responds we hope hope together sake
to gether
we short the freaks short em' all them freakin freaks freaks
i want you I want yours
i want to take you over
take control take over
29' run kontrol all night day
long time end time
everthing happens forfurfor fit ur
once and done (nature) forfeiture
reason or ur other or ur another or ur a altogether reason
or simple GP drunkworld
reason (nurture)
surprise my ripest faither - less
5 rise 10 run huh
up the down and dumb
dumb ber right left left right thum ber
number one number
numb - ber
one ones
another
come
under
the
(tumb)
.
All Rights Reserved.
James R. Morse, NYC 2013.
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
oh, san juans, your riches beckon
your wealth, your beauty calls
your waveless, salty waters blue
my heart since childhood draws
your waters lap at darkened rock
'round islands, bays and inlets fill
with returning salmon teeming
your breaking waters thrill
your tide, oh ever river changing
charges muddy oyster flats
your thriving pods of orca leap
o'er spray in mid-air acrobats
from seabed swift, cold and deep
the lushness of your green hills rise
your sun falls fleet like shooting star
your sparkling waters mesmerize
sailing craft from ’neath horizon
angels spread their wings of color
skirt your shoals and ply your straits
find safety anchored in your harbors
oh, san juans, your wonder waits
your treasure and your magic calls
your waveless, crystal waters blue
my heart since youth still draws
calls me to return each year
to dip my paddle deep
when life averts the journey there
in dreams you beckon while i sleep
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
♀↵ϖ†∅↨⊕☺☼↑↓
Apples will be cantaloupes
depending on their nurture;
and so I cherish rainbow hopes
for our collective future.
Oranges elect their hue
improving Nature’s seal,
while pronouns stifle what is true
suppressing the appeal.
Fruits may choose to change to nuts
and fowls select their plumage.
Why settle in Tradition’s ruts?
Such rigid roles do damage.
Nuts in turn, may feel like flowers,
picking how and when to bloom.
So ambisexual thought empowers
androgynes to court their doom.
A leopard, too, may change his spots
(or turn into a vegan bunny)
No law’s tittles, neither jots
make Speciesism funny.
If you decide to see it so
the sky above is yellow.
Perceive as pink the grass beneath
and better times must follow.
Gender? Merely social constructs –
preach it to the masses
until tradition self-destructs
and *** takes off her glasses.
Babies need no Dad (nor Mother):
sexist labels, obsolete.
Love is blind. There is no other.
Bats must bark and chickens bleat.
Integrated water closets
show how far we have evolved:
urinary bank deposits
(with no member account involved).
Foolish thinking from the past
(like water being wet, and such)
calls for re-education, fast.
The State will lend its human touch
compelling all to sing the hymn
with genderfluid motions…
so birds can preen their scales and swim
in dry and waveless oceans.
(Yet “hymn” sounds sexist said out loud –
we ought to sing a “her” instead…
no – make that “us”, since we are proud,
lest misconceptions be misread.)
Shake a healthy dose of salt
upon this strange post-modern food.
May God re-set us to default
with human common sense renewed.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 11:05 PM UTC
I thought about Norfolk and Norfolk folk,
And Norfolk bricks and the Norfolk coast,
I thought of winds in a hollow dune and waveless seas
Where the heat washed a breeze -
Into a summer fret!
Where hawking gulls who balance by
point towards straight roads at sunrise
Where the hillocks fall down to
The summer's edge
In the wash of the Gibraltar flats
Reflected fractions of a perfect sky
Form blue pools in the heated sand
The stuff of dreams
That Norfolk
Land
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 2:59 PM UTC
It is evening, Senlin says, and in the evening,
By a silent shore, by a far distant sea,
White unicorns come gravely down to the water.
In the lilac dusk they come, they are white and stately,
Stars hang over the purple waveless sea;
A sea on which no sail was ever lifted,
Where a human voice was never heard.
The shadows of vague hills are dark on the water,
The silent stars seem silently to sing.
And gravely come white unicorns down to the water,
One by one they come and drink their fill;
And daisies burn like stars on the darkened hill.
It is evening Senlin says, and in the evening
The leaves on the trees, abandoned by the light,
Look to the earth, and whisper, and are still.
The bat with horned wings, tumbling through the darkness,
Breaks the web, and the spider falls to the ground.
The starry dewdrop gathers upon the oakleaf,
Clings to the edge, and falls without a sound.
Do maidens spread their white palms to the starlight
And walk three steps to the east and clearly sing?
Do dewdrops fall like a shower of stars from willows?
Has the small moon a ghostly ring? . . .
White skeletons dance on the moonlit grass,
Singing maidens are buried in deep graves,
The stars hang over a sea like polished glass . . .
And solemnly one by one in the darkness there
Neighing far off on the haunted air
White unicorns come gravely down to the water.
No silver bells are heard. The westering moon
Lights the pale floors of caverns by the sea.
Wet **** hangs on the rock. In shimmering pools
Left on the rocks by the receding sea
Starfish slowly turn their white and brown
Or writhe on the naked rocks and drown.
Do sea-girls haunt these caves--do we hear faint singing?
Do we hear from under the sea a faint bell ringing?
Was that a white hand lifted among the bubbles
And fallen softly back?
No, these shores and caverns are all silent,
Dead in the moonlight; only, far above,
On the smooth contours of these headlands,
White amid the eternal black,
One by one in the moonlight there
Neighing far off on the haunted air
The unicorns come down to the sea.
2.2k
We sit together and talk, or smoke in silence.
You say (but use no words) 'this night is passing
As other nights when we are dead will pass . . .'
Perhaps I misconstrue you: you mean only,
'How deathly pale my face looks in that glass . . .'
You say: 'We sit and talk, of things important . . .
How many others like ourselves, this instant,
Mark the pendulum swinging against the wall?
How many others, laughing, sip their coffee--
Or stare at mirrors, and do not talk at all? . . .
'This is the moment' (so you would say, in silence)
When suddenly we have had too much of laughter:
And a freezing stillness falls, no word to say.
Our mouths feel foolish . . . For all the days hereafter
What have we saved--what news, what tune, what play?
'We see each other as vain and futile tricksters,--
Posturing like bald apes before a mirror;
No pity dims our eyes . . .
How many others, like ourselves, this instant,
See how the great world wizens, and are wise? . . .'
Well, you are right . . . No doubt, they fall, these seconds . . .
When suddenly all's distempered, vacuous, ugly,
And even those most like angels creep for schemes.
The one you love leans forward, smiles, deceives you,
Opens a door through which you see dark dreams.
But this is momentary . . . or else, enduring,
Leads you with devious eyes through mists and poisons
To horrible chaos, or suicide, or crime . . .
And all these others who at your conjuration
Grow pale, feeling the skeleton touch of time,--
Or, laughing sadly, talk of things important,
Or stare at mirrors, startled to see their faces,
Or drown in the waveless vacuum of their days,--
Suddenly, as from sleep, awake, forgetting
This nauseous dream; take up their accustomed ways,
Exhume the ghost of a joke, renew loud laughter,
Forget the moles above their sweethearts' eyebrows,
Lean to the music, rise,
And dance once more in a rose-festooned illusion
With kindness in their eyes . . .
They say (as we ourselves have said, remember)
'What wizardry this slow waltz works upon us!
And how it brings to mind forgotten things!'
They say 'How strange it is that one such evening
Can wake vague memories of so many springs!'
And so they go . . . In a thousand crowded places,
They sit to smile and talk, or rise to ragtime,
And, for their pleasures, agree or disagree.
With secret symbols they play on secret passions.
With cunning eyes they see
The innocent word that sets remembrance trembling,
The dubious word that sets the scared heart beating . . .
The pendulum on the wall
Shakes down seconds . . . They laugh at time, dissembling;
Or coil for a victim and do not talk at all.
1.3k
Blazing summer sun,
fuming in the sky for long
had a secret desire to sneak out
and cool off a bit, in private.
Pretending that he is still up there
hiding behind a cloud umbrella,
he sneaked out, holding on to it
jumped in to a lake
waveless and placid, in a quiet siesta.
Swimming around
within the safety net of
floating fluffy clouds,
he thought none did notice,
his new secret predilection
to go for a cold dip, against his grain.
A little fish on her midday practice swim
saw the cold sun, close by
fretted at the strange sight,
(for her, it was the first time)
raised an alarm, that brought all fish along
the profusion of fins and tails and
pecking mouths, all of a sudden made sun
spring back in a moment,
without a second thought.
Bleeding from the wounds
angry pecking fish gifted in anger.
He was hot and furious more than ever,
will he venture out again?
Oct 12, 2013
Oct 12, 2013 at 10:51 PM UTC
I often stare into the sky at shadows on the moon,
with my attention fullest on the days of the full moon.
Discerning craters, mountains on its dusty pockmarked face,
that glows when sun stares winking flares upon the blushing moon.
I squint to find the waveless flag, the rover parked somewhere,
discarded by the shiny humans come to greet the moon.
Her light gives sight so subtle as to soothe and not disturb
circadians whose radians are rhythms of the moon.
Tree silhouettes' slow pirouettes sway by the summer breeze,
bathed in the sun's own afterglow under the watchful moon.
Imagining the lunacy of werewolves in the night
who, bathed in glow, to dogs they go a howling at the moon.
While all around the nightsong sounds in symphony they croon
the ballades of the wonder of the lighted sky queen moon.
(C)2013, Christos Rigakos
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:13 AM UTC
Time,
Yet I glimpse again,
yet again.
We never stop, do we?
It moves? It counts? Is it alive?
Or we just mark it as such?
Time,
Thrown in a waveless lake
waves the lake,
but the waves pass
And yet again
It is back to calm.
Time,
A circle they say,
That is how it looks from above.
Even if it is a line for us,
We only see as far the horizon.
I just hope that is true.
Time,
Yet I glimpse again,
yet again.
It never really stops.
It does move, it counts, it is really alive.
As long as we are here to mark it as such.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
Sylvie, I am alone here
doing nothing, except
thinking about you,
in a meditative trance.
It's a beautiful feeling Sylvie
strange, I don't miss you,even!
I imagine you as an awakening flower
of changing colors and petals
You are in a whirl of realization.
Then a lone tree you are,
near a vast,waveless lake
what an intriguing koan,
to churn my inner sea.
You're nowa drifting white cloud
all through the kaleidoscopic shifts
I forget to think,what would I be
in relation with your whims,spectacular
Beyond apparitions, I search for meaning
that eludes, as it is fathomless
I hear the song of the lonely star, so near
and realize,"I am the light of the burning star"
Sylvie, I can't remember
neither you nor me exactly
or the distant star that sings
a song in the tunes of light years
You were from the forest, Sylvie
I used to be the mountain wind
that once caressed the forest trees.
Sylvie, we are one; the imagination
of the waves of light, beyond time.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 11:31 AM UTC
Weeping willows wail, wondering why winter walked away without wanting to wave goodbye.
Wintry winds and wild whispers weave their wishes in wantoness. While I watch warmth wrap my wrist and well-built waist.
Warm, warm, waveless waters.
Whist, windless wornout weather wins.
Apr 11, 2023
Apr 11, 2023 at 5:33 AM UTC
Calm mind
like a waveless ocean.
Thoughts are hiding
behind the horizon.
The calm before the storm?
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
The silent conversations in our letters
are cradled by the lovely, lonesome breezes of the spring.
They travel just a little beyond the horizon.
And, settle into the depths of the waveless oceans.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
When the slightest puff of wind brushes away
the strands of your dark, raven hair from your creased forehead.
Do not close the windows.
When the hushed whispers tickle your ears
Do not dismiss them as just another noise.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
They are treasures buried in coffers of the past.
They are gold, and they glitter.
They are dreams of a distant future,
Vague and infinite.
So, when you wake up in middle of the night
from the visions in your deep sleep.
Do not dismiss them as just another nightmare.
They are like the carols of Christmas, poetry of the past.
They are musings of a lovely, lonesome heart.
Do not dismiss them as just another prose.
*Night after night, they make a call.
Come hither, friend! Rescue us all.*
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 4:31 AM UTC
Obviously AI copies the work of true poets.
In a cleaver scam to out compete the others.
Such machines are lost in a boundless plagiarizing stutter.
The waveless particles are gathering in the circuits of AI.
Cages full of poetical peace’s of our creative minds!
Quantum connection only humans can make.
Emotionally expressed to the biological taste.
AI is but a program, an insignificance app,
yet we are the creatives,
the masterclass!
May 18, 2025
May 18, 2025 at 10:26 AM UTC
To me
You are a glass vile
Filled with my life
My past and my future
My far fetched dreams
and fiercest fantasies
All bottled up
And you're falling
down from the heavens
a glass angel
only seconds
from the ground
You won't break
as long as I'm here
My dear
Have no fear
You shoot
into my chest
flying through
the darkness
of my big empty atrium
Land Autumn
at the bottom
soft and easy and waveless
you bob
in my lake of love
Jul 17, 2015
Jul 17, 2015 at 10:32 AM UTC
She complements my chivalry
always making the most of me
She's the light that shadows my darkness
Iam formless
She is my dynamic
I am an aspect of static
She is the element of my will
Only in sin I speak us Separately
Without her I am a waveless ocean
She is the heat in my fire
My eyes close
I am motionless
I am Breathless
She's so Merciful
So gentle
loving and affectionate...
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
These is infinity outside my window.
I can see it, but it cannot see me.
I've dreamed of it, but it cannot dream. So,
I'll drive it to the waveless, rolling sea.
It will swallow the horizon. It needs
to be on something; a line of sky
will do. It will ask on bended knees
to change the color of the clouds going by.
Now lost and held and bound by time, it waits;
fully strung out on a clock that does not
strike, and a headache from a golden gate
he hallucinated or else forgot.
That's where I will hold him. Together
laughing, he is no longer forever.
Apr 17, 2011
Apr 17, 2011 at 1:49 PM UTC
i'm stuck on the island of misfits
tracing signals in dry sand,
sending smoke through foggy air
and bottled messages across waveless water.
i dance around fallen trees,
and hop through burning fire
explore lightless caves,
and play with wreckless wilderness.
i'm as free as a trapped girl can be,
on this island of hopeful dreams
and warped realities.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
vast
infinitely vast
soft spring sky
calmer than a waveless sea
swallows arc
with scythe-like wings
distant flecks
vanishing
beyond
the beyond
Tom Spencer © 2019
May 13, 2019
May 13, 2019 at 12:01 PM UTC
"Sonnets From a Conversation With a Friend XVIII "
Different language different self, shaped
Of action, shaper of acts, aggregate
Born of body, speech, and mind. Offsprung fate
Mother creator, sentient congealed
Light. The mystery itself a gnawing
Pain stimulation to movement, former
Of distraction, pre-conscious constructer
Of constellations and galaxies swimming
In the great ocean deluded. Ego
Follows function, motivation the door
Magnificent. Change, reality for
The multitudes to nine decimals. No
Brain to small to know the great endless fall
To emptiness, clear waveless base of all.
Nov 23, 2017
Nov 23, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
Travelled light of time.
Arcturus risen
over the gentle, waveless ocean.
Its light moving with steady purpose
since the time of her birth.
To shine
on her fresh-kissed lips.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 4:41 PM UTC
Your sincerity submerges me deep in the warmth of unknown ocean
I am afraid to realize how fragile I am when your hand slightly touches mine
I am caught up in a waveless turbulence of your dreams
Washed away on a shore of undefined feelings
In this place, the flow of time loses its weight when you're not around.
The racing digits no longer haunt me
They're pacing in a merely andante tempo, as if to mock me with their gift of restlessness
The empty space you leave behind carries a scent of uncertainty
White noise drones in place of your voice
All I can hear is the tiny whispers of doubt mixed with an air of self-deprecation
We are straddling on the surface, trying to keep everything light
Because you know the breathlessness under
The cold blue depth that's suffocating with each failed expectation, yet blinding with every promises of future
Am I really drowning or is it just a make believe
Because I can't clearly see the boundaries.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
Like waveless water I am.
Static; unchanging.
Nothing. Nothing ever changes within me.
But, empty I am not.
I am not empty, I have pain.
And pain it may be, it is still with and within me.
And though hurt me it may, I am not alone and I am not empty.
And I will never, ever, give it up!
For it is the sole thing which tells me, that I am...
Alive...
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC