by Clair Eloise |
Categories:
grandmother, love, nostalgia, ocean, planet, senses, word play,
She is whipping winds.
Salt,
washing over my hair, eyes, skin.
Numbingly cold waters,
as if just unfrozen,
spilling into, refreshing
the Bay.
She hosts,
An eroded map
Of webbed and pebbled paths.
Barnacle scattered
grit.
Rolling fields of green low tides.
A fisherman’s daydream.
A meeting
Of core and sun.
She is
an awakening,
a renewal,
a provocation of adventure.
by Nigel Fox |
Categories:
dedication, loss, love, autumn, sea, sea,
Huge bronze bells peel muffled engulfed by sea
above unhearing in depths deaf to thee
drowned the dead the lost tsunami friends
not figuring quick and sharp their ends
black churning death coming from the sea
no distinction twixt them you or me
death some surprise shaken a shock from the sea
xept not dying in autumn like you or me
God please grant them heavenly peace
God please grant them peace
chancel and naves filled ghostly a new congregation
gentle barnacle claimed pews giving us no separation
by Naddy Zahari |
Categories:
betrayal, break up, feelings, grief, heartbroken, hurt, love hurts,
She was drowning when
he pulled her on board his ship.
She held to his grip
anxious to start the trip.
He treated her wound with kindness,
shined her path with brightness,
took her to wondrous places,
and cured her blindness.
Soon she was hungry for more.
His touch now feels sore.
The moment they could see the shore,
she made her way to the door,
and said, “I don’t want this anymore”.
by L'nass Shango |
Categories:
imaginationhappy, heart, happy, heart, me, i love you,
Tonight you come tip toe into my mind like a room
Where first I tasted the rich elixir of your tongue
And made you promises that I meant to keep
Without knowledge of the savage rocks of doom
Tonight something like jasmine
Or your perfume lingers in the air
Like a memory of happy days gone
And though I love you still
I ask my heart why would it not let you in again
And my heart flinching in its pain
Tells me that I could not be happy again
Because you carry now the salt of too many seas
And would compare me to all your memories
And the barnacle from some distant and primitive dock
Would crust my quay and litter my rock.
This is a strange thing to me.