Surf [Free Verse]

so much power
 in a lazy rolling wave
  as it tips into a tube.

a column of
 weighty water

pressing one down &
 holding one in a 
  back-shaped divot 
  on the sandy bottom,

a forced pour 
 onto face and chest,

flowing & rolling
 over both sides with 
   such easy skill
    as to negate a 
      frantic, thrashing
       attempt to roll free. 

Ship on the Horizon [Sonnet]

You see that one ship out on the horizon,
and feel that unique tang of loneliness.
There's far, far too much blank sea to thrive in,
and all the makings for keen ghostliness.

That boat will soon be passing beyond sight,
and maybe it will falter, maybe sink.
The sea has created a million plights,
and hazards there will honor no strict brinks.

In Shakespeare, ships are lost, often as not.
See: "Tempest," "Merchant," "Pericles,” and so on.
Perhaps, you'll say that today isn't so fraught
with maritime menace and sea demons.

Why more vexed than those who keep ships running?
'Cause sailors will never, ever, see it coming.

Lapping Waves [Free Verse]

Gentle waves lap ashore,
 circling into each other,
  one riding over the other.

The lower sweep becomes
 another shore for the higher.

Which side wins out changes
 from one wave to the next.

Sea Watch [Free Verse]

She sat on the shore
 and watched the sea.

She watched the sea
 so intently, and for so long,
  that she could see the tides rise.

She could discern 
 that gradual shift
  from among the undulations
   & sea state changes.

But she was seeking a ship
 that would never return.