On the shore of angry seas I hear the crash of foamy waves, but miss the crisp sudsy sizzle that one hears on a sunny summer day. That nuanced note is lost to the Churn
The Churn [Free Verse]
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Tag Archives: Sea
Horse Latitudes [Sonnet]
I scoured vast seas in search of wisdom lost. It happened when they made me walk the plank, like scuttled wreckage, sunk sans thought of cost, as I began to rise, my treasure sank. I bobbed in seas that each way looked the same. How could I find my way back to that spot carried by currents dastardly untamed, and found days later by a ragged yacht. And so I drift upon the choppy seas, and hope for winds to steer me on my course, but mostly there's not even a slight breeze, and I'm stuck in ghost screams of a dumped horse. I hope one day to regain my attitude, but not stuck down in these damned horse latitudes.
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Moonlit Sea [Haiku]
River Meets Sea [Tanka]
wide mouth river, its chocolate-colored waters smashed by breakers / the battle is ceaseless; no winner is declared
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DAILY PHOTO: Low Tide Tree
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Emptiness [Haiku]
DAILY PHOTO: Havelock Island Feathered Sunrise
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POEM: Seashore Mind [PoMo Day 15 – Villanelle]
The waves are churned to foam. The sight mesmerizes. My mind is miles from home. My seated self does roam -- chaos that surprises, like waves are churned to foam. Like one w/ Capgras Syndrome, hustler mistrust arises. My mind 's wary of home. I focus on the chrome, but my ear recognizes the waves that churn to foam. I've vagabond chromosomes, but still the thought chastises: "Your mind is miles from home!" I'm sitting all alone, and my mind surmises: Like waves churned to foam, your mind 's so far from home.
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POEM: Infinite Ships
The voyage, now, is at an end.
The anchors have been cast.
The fleet bobs silently offshore,
looking boundlessly vast.
For fog has settled on the bay
and ship shapes fade to gray.
They count themselves infinite ships
while bounded by that bay.
The sea deceives, that much is true;
the rest we’ve yet to know.
Some will swear that trawlers sit there
that were lost long ago.
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Coastal Haiku
shore wash:
chasing, and chased by,
tiny feet
crab sand art
alien beach language
’til high tide
dark clouds.
fishing boats race
churning seas
spiked urchin
wedged amid the rocks,
step wisely
low tide
glass sea stretches to
the breakers
Tiger Riding for Beginners 