PoserPersona Jul 23
He pulled and parked the supply red wagon,
then climbed the mast to the captain's cabin.
Captain Red is ready for adventure.
A quest to collect the world's best treasure.

His pirate crew is renowned far and wide.
They're rough and tough and they don't ever cry.
But none of them boys has the captain's stuff.
So don't mess with him, man, cause he don't bluff.

This motley crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
whales, whirlpools, storms, mermaids, krakens and kings.

"Set sail," squaws the boss as he munches lunch
and the Ocean Destroyer leaves port Wunche.
These rolling green hills are now ocean waves.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
"Hey Benjamin!" beams the first mate Susanne.
Impeding the journey that just began.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The first mate trumps the captain, Ben will learn.
Her spacesuit crew is renowned far and wide.
They're smart and nice and they don't ever lie.
But none of these girls has commander's stuff.
So don't mess with her, girl, cause she don't bluff.

This brainy crew has achieved many feats,
has never suffered a single defeat,
and has seen the most incredible things:
aliens, black holes, stars, and martian springs.

"Lift off!" beams the boss as she munches lunch
and the Star Chasing Rocket leaves base Wunche.
These rural backyards are now rocky space.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
"Hey Susanne!" beams the pilot Benjamin.
Impeding the flight before it begins.
"We already played this game. It's my turn!"
The pilot trumps commander, Sue will learn.
Boys and girls grow up and out the front door.
Those children’s games evolve to adult chores;
those kiddy lawns to grandparent’s domain.
That blue sky, however, remains the same.
the way the whales sing
into miles of empty water
and how the bird sings
with its own quiet truth

the way the morning
seems so full of time unspent

the world expands within you
don’t let its wealth spoil you
savor your spoonful of whatever
protect the roses
baptize yourself in fire
tether your moons
write in the dark if you have to
even love what you cannot
quickly now,
the curtains are waiting
all the grapes will be raisins soon
and the stars are floating away

our vastness is not a promise.
sand dollars make you crazy
so liquidate your assets
the currency of the ocean
is in it’s depth and destination
i see whales making out with octopuses
sending us their love
from outside their esophaguses
penguins in coattails dream of Spain
while Spanish armadas chase each other's sails
armed insurgencies upon armoires from France
silent eroticisms in the shadows of daffodils dance
if you can only imagine
a white snowy owl
as big as whales
as big as a house
you look like
a tiny gray mouse
standing by your side
pretending to be
guardian angel
to never let
anyone harm you
sweet darling
you can go to sleep
please don't
ever be afraid again
dear Shelly McBride
Bryce Jul 27
Barking along the seething sea
Tethys sparkling
Sans Pellagrino
Bubbled up with volcanic
And it exposed the cragged shores
Of a incessantly compiling
Completely snuffed
Bored and drilled by time
Sharper than a dying dimond
Cooked and left to rest
A Dinar plate
To which an all you can eat
Played out pleasently
From antiquity
To present
A gift to an aging child
To be which pure joy can behold.

Today it is home of the Croats
The ancient Frontier of a meiotic Rome
And over small-grain time
Made coats
Of arms and animal manes
To give a name
To the nameless

To give a place
To the missed

That old Tethys barks like a fish
Beyond the Odoacerean boot, Scylla and Charybdis
Where the whales float
And great souls
Stolen deep within
wishing to find god
Fumbling in the dark
Searching for Alexandria
The flame of life
Become great stories to be told
And nothing more.

Hug the shore
Follow the land of the mysterious Croats
Do not venture beyond the threshold
Or you will be consumed by time
And lost to her Circedean jealous pines
Do not anger the constant love of

These Croats have never croaked
They know not of amphibiotes
And the sharpened clades of life
Made and tailored bespoke
In the fractals
Of the quiet word of
I want to write a poem that politically minded would read more:
My political allegiance: my contribution to the art:
those Snakes in the grass would adhere too: without obligation;

The hidden agenda of the world leaders
Would suddenly, take the Sephora masks off
just in time to reveal what we thought of them all along;
Those voices of the babbling brooks: some louder than the other:

the poem must expose secret of the ocean mystery /myth
Without apprehending the beauty
of the dolphins and the whales legal rights;
While its uninvited guests are caught up in their lies
we the people must say to them
"you all can’t plead the fifth" because

They are still a lot of trivia question for us to answer.
And it’s still difficult task for some of us to find
where's waldo amongst the leaders:
Legacy girl writes hollow poems
In the petal-pressed pages of her notebook
Breadcrumbs of who she is
And who she longs to be
There is an ocean between the two
Starlight dreamer gazes up at the moon
They weep together about all the many ways
The world can scar a person
The moon looks at her nightchild from a high heaven away
And sings of her craters and how she overcame every one
Forest nymph sits on the shoulders of her favourite tree
Tells him about her day and of the flowers she smells but does not pick
The leaves are whispering gossip to each other
Birds are bringing her shining things
And she tells the birds a story of Icarus
She says ‘you do not have to fear the sun’
She is the sun, and she would not harm them
Not them or a single growing thing under her warm gaze
Legacy girl jumps down from the tree
Crosses the hill and three fields to the ocean shore
There are whales waving from the horizon
And beyond that, in the sweeping red hue of the moment
The girls are close enough to touch

Her hand makes ripples of her reflection
Lawrence Hall Jul 26
A Straw Man Accessorized with Exclamation Marks from the Eighth Grade (Rainbow Brite™ © Glitter Optional)

I heard it, dude; it’s part of the nexus!
A floating island as big as Texas!
All made of straws, there in the Pacific!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, it’s there, specific!

It’s a Russian plot, sponsored by Putin!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, sure as shootin’!
Them plastic straws will soon bring down the grid!
They kill the whales; they even got a squid!

The science is settled; let’s make some laws:
The source of all evil is them plastic straws!!!!!!!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

— The End —