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Icarus M Jan 2013
The shells lined up nicely.
"At attention," the conch yelled.
He was curled black, with boiled blue spikes.
And so they stayed, in a perfect line against the wall,
until the wave,
washing ashore, it plucked three.
One was an abalone,
almost full grown,
with five holes descending down its left side.
A sheen of gold and silver out,
murky indigo and forest green in.
He lost grip first,
and was pulled into an incoming breaker.
The second was a conch.
Chocolate and vanilla swirls coated the outer layers
leading in to slight pink.
Her name was Neapolitan.
She was once an adult shell of the queen conch,
washed ashore and set into a line by small hands,
that were gentle and soft.
Zander
A soft voice called.
Inhaled by the mouth of the ocean,
exhaled into a bout of seaweed.  
She was lost.
The last,
was a cowry shell.
He was old,
or at least he imagined so.
This was not the first time he had washed ashore,
nor had he figured, would it be the last.
His back was ivory white
with brown speckles,
in such a pattern
that he imagined himself to be, at times, a turtle.
He had first felt and then saw reflections of himself in sea glass. He was gathered in a bucket and rubbed so that his design reverberated until he felt, every shimmer of himself.
Knowing not what lay ahead,
but understanding,
he held no grip and went where the ocean led.
It's getting dark Zander.
The others gasped,
in horror their screams rasped.
"Save us. Plea...se he...l...p."
As another wave crashed into the wall and stole four more,
again,
till all were cast away from the wall
to be laden across the expanse of sand.

Soft brown eyes stared,
at the empty holes,
where shells had been placed,
as decorations to a most deserving sand castle.
Turrets and towers,
hard packed by child hands,
with a red flag flapping to the sea breeze.
A crude skull was drawn,
for it was a pirate fascination that encapsulated this year.

He had spent hours seeking and finding,
the perfect art,
to be the binding,
to hold his wall against all defense,
but all had fallen in the first wave of battle.
"Oh well," he muttered.
He would try again tomorrow.
© copy right protected
By: James Zander Young, September 29, 2011

I just watched the most beautiful sunset tonight.
As seals watched me watch Cormorants head south for the winter.
Against the backdrop soundscape of waves lapping and flapping along the seashore.
The skies opened up as though Heaven were among us, the moon peaking here, the sun there.
Oh how I have missed thee!

Sunset at the beach
First poem ever written while on a bluff overlooking the ocean. Literally this thing wrote itself. I did not compose it. I t was given to me and I just described the scene.
By: James Zander Young, October 31, 2011

Heaven and hell will tell a story for all to see. Heaven and hell will always be there for you and me. One young sleep or lost release, one another not to be found. Cause heaven and hell can’t be one but only two. One is nothing without the other, two are common unless faith is there too. Powerful this notion of heaven and hell can be to reign us in and maybe move us so this way and that along a path to the crossroads until we must decide HEAVEN OR HELL
By: James Zander Young, November 23, 2011

As I kissed you that night with your back to the door I should have known then that we would be no more. Along the days we had, I was not sad. For you were there with me to make me strong. Along the days and along the nights you always made things right. I knew then not what I know now. That not all love is meant to bloom, not all love can make it through. With a tearful goodbye and my bags by my side out through the door to be no more. Within our time thinking now I shed a tear for what was near and fear I know not what I thought I knew. Fear still, I lost a true friend. To make things right I am out of sight without delight. Along the nights here and there that special time is pondered. As I wander through the days and through the nights alone, lost but looking. Oh that time was not what it should have been, could have been. Looking back though I would not trade it if I could for it was US we were we and now we’re YOU and ME.
By: James Zander Young, Oct 8, 2013

Tears of joy...
Tears of hope...
Tears of Love...
For a dear departed soul,
Tears we weep for her eternal sleep.

Tears of friendship within this earthly haven.
Tears of LOVE for evermore.

Smiles and laughter she did bring.
Music and dancing she does know.
A life lived, lost she will grow.
At such a cost, a life lost
Lives lived we do share.
Oh so pure a life lost lived.
Forgotten not, she will grow
in our hearts and on our faces
for evermore to us all.
A life lost we will know.
Brittany Miller Mar 2011
A child cries at night,
Beneath the moon so bright,
Crying for his mother to hold him tight.
During the long days to come,
Enter demons one child cannot shun,
For his nightmares keep him up till the light is bright,
Getting scared and feather light.
How can one child so small,
Ignore all?
Just like my friends and I
**** time and look for fireflies,
Let go of fears that lurk,
Make sure that they do not hurt.
Nate is his name,
Oh my child,
Proud but vain.
Question the rules,
Ready to solve the clues,
Strive to understand,
The source behind the dark lands.
Under the covers this night,
Vainly peeking at covers and shadow,
Walking deeper into subconscious,
X marks the spot,
Yesterday is gone from thought,
Zander rocks him to bed.
By: James Zander Young, Aug, 22, 2014

No one knows the pain I feel
The weird journey within my nature
The reality of my experiences
That expectations became hesitations

The chaos of my mind
Stimulating enjoyment to the end

No one knows the pain I feel
By James Zander Young, Aug, 23, 2014

I know not what I profess
A natural born confidence
Has always put me to the test
Like two partners at a dance
I glide and slide at my best
Hoping you take a chance
To ponder my words I attest

For light and dark they all renew
For me and you
Says I to You
By: James Zander Young, Sept 4, 2013

Little black ravens of death should not be here today.
Why oh, why must you be here today.
Could you not come back another day?
Please, oh please, let us play just a little while longer.
It is not fair, you show up at the most inopportune time.
I don’t want to be your messenger of death any while longer.
Oh please release me from my imagined immortal shackles

Please, oh please I cannot take this anymore… any longer… any more.

Little black ravens.
By: James Zander Young, October 15, 2011

There’s a girl I know, with long black hair and a care about which draws you in, with long sleek legs and a smile for a mile she has been there with troubles past to match the batch which I just cracked.

A spirit to match the energy of Aphrodite she is a ditty without which I get giddy. For a time it would seem we are one again but then it happens that which we know best. At a crossroads to the test which way will we go?
By: James Zander Young, August 8, 2013

Life is in the details and quite moments of soft reflection that illuminate the spirit from within. When alas the pale moonlight sets upon our weary bones it’s the mundane and routine that will guide us through. Not the thrilling and fulfilling of earths pleasures that we measure our final treasures. Its the eyes upon us with hands outstretched and clenched tightly upon ones impending loss, the toes among us waiting for the final due, that soft caress of a families gaze made true, a cycle of life outlaid and played. With a final view of life great success upon us, the tears of sorrow upon their faces, at once we, he, and she is now at rest and can gently flow with a hearts full cup of love and peace to that which we know not.
By: James Zander Young, September 17, 2013

Oh please, oh please me, we have done it now.
Oh please, oh please I do plead with you, please. I plead for my life.
I don't want it taken like we discussed.
Oh please, oh please tell me one more time what must be done.
Oh Please. Oh Please, oh please, oh no I plead, not that, anything but that, anything else I will not hesitate.
Oh please oh please I can't possibly, I could not, I would not, I will not.
Oh please, oh please I plead you must relent, you must acquiesce, you must, you just must, I cannot do what you ask.
I will not do what you ask. I could not, I have not, I am not able I am too fragile and unstable.

It is too early…my time has not come…my time has just begun.
I
By: James Zander Young, Oct, 27, 2013

I
am
am I
I am lost
By: James Zander Young, October 29, 2011

All alone in the dark it is quite still and quiet. Throughout the day we sit and breathe and toil and work the soil. There are dishes to wash, clothes to hang and farm animals to tend. We mend our hearts with work and each day further along we move ever closer to others that sit alone in the dark. First comes darkness then rebirth, you can’t have one without the other. Along the path of darkness one sees many things that frighten and scares them (I know I have). Each one is different in how to get to deal with real pain and real confusion. It grabs hold tighter and tighter it would seem until that one day when decisions are made. Though not as abrupt as one may think it comes gradually over time. With love and happiness from family and friends we hope the right decisions are made. For some it seems this is not the case. For some we disagree with their decision but for some it was real and it was right. No one knows the plight and burden we each hold onto. No one knows the simple act that turns the still yet frantic and frenetic wandering of the mind to act with each dark place being different and true to that which is living it. I hope you heed my story and watch for pain in yourself and others but know this when you get to that dark place, hold on, and remember the other side is a wonderous place of new beginning and new experiences. The darkness is just another view of the same mountain top which when basked in sunlight we sit quite still and quiet to reflect upon the beauty to see the sun in all its glory and everlasting power.
Marcus 2d
There was a time not long ago
When love was but a genre
A time in which I sought a high
My head held very low

And yet by touch you granted me
Whose outlook was so somber
The art of love – but with a sigh
I now look at this glee

See Julia, I think of you
Subject of my love’s cadre
But for every thought to fly
I turn a paler blue

You tell me not to think, but please
The beauty of this pasture
In which I once had got to lie
Too good a thought to cease

The gladness Julia has brought
It is by far a wonder
Which never should have come me by
A taste to be uncaught

For never can I now forget
– Always wishing me calmer –
Sweetness when I gently wrapped my
Loving arms ‘round your head

Your gentle voice, ambrosia
With it I’d never falter
To ever hear it say “goodbye”,
Byzantine acacia

I wished that we’d never be through
I always loved our banter
But now your music makes me cry
Let me Fade Into You

One time, I had brought you to tears
It cut me like a sabre
The wounds yet cause me now to wry
The biggest of my fears

I truly was not good enough
With you I could just maunder
My throat was always oh so dry
Regret even a cough

I never did you any good
Not even on a saunter
And no matter if I now try
It’d be like chewing wood

I live forevermore on hope
Dumber than any zander
That someday you’ll look in my eye
And tell me not to mope

That one day I will hear the words
– It shall cloud any slander –
“I love you,” even as a lie
Drown out all the songbirds

I took myself so far astray
Alone, immane I confer
My heart has darkened with a dye
That will not wash away

My heart, a weeping whippoorwill
Becoming ever denser
As if my sadness was a vie
You remain in there still

My soul, a lonesome willow tree
No one will there concur
No leaf, no swing, ready to die
So how can it still be?
It solely hopes for love’s succour:
That she might come around
Again wrap her arms around me
Revive me with her sound
And on this willow she will see
How deeply it was cut
Forever engraved on the trunk
Was love’s and tears’ glut
Hortensia, hallelujah
They never could compare to
“Julia”
She said she wanted a “dramatic song” written about her. I’m no musician. This was never meant for her, but it still came to be.

— The End —