Joy of the Sea
Listen to the rhythm
awakening my longing
as my lips follow
shape of shivers.
My soul overflows,
buried deep within
aqua waves -
of worries carried
away by sea surges,
strings of pelicans
strung in V’s
single blue crayon line
ocean meets sky.
Voltage jolts with
salt air breaths
as calmness settles
like residue on skin
touched by silver fingers
of unfathomed sea,
ocean crests protecting
like warm wombs,
stars mobbing sky
in evening blackness,
drops of myself
left in grains of sand,
salted kernels sifting
through my soul.
Side Effects of the Sea
A young sailor once told me the sea was his therapy.
The waves rock me to sleep like a baby, he said.
It’s so peaceful at night, he said.
I go out every weekend, he said.
Except last weekend, you liar. Because the sea swallowed you up the Saturday prior.
The sea never soothes you like therapy does, but it does coax you into its embrace so it can drag you down to its depths and use your body to feed its creations. It’s alluring. Addictive. Like a drug. An organic hallucinogen.
I think that’s my favorite part of it.
Tales of mum, lavishly laid
buzzing my drums with beats of waves.
As I skate the shore along my side
they shawl me up in blankets of tide.
Frosty coat, frigid as ice
deep I hugged such warmth inside.
let's run to the ocean and never come back.
Poseidon will welcome us with open arms.
I only remember falling
The irony: water can’t extinguish the
burning feeling in my chest.
So this is how it feels...
Every point in this miserable life has led up to this moment;
drowning in my sea of sorrow.
I was a fighter...
Now all I can do is close my eyes and sink.
What’s the point?
We lose in the end.
I watched the salty breeze rip through your hair. You sat in the sand just close enough to the ocean to put your feet in. The ocean that took you from me.
You dug your hands into the sand and closed your eyes breathing in the air. As I breathed with you, I watched as you faded away, and all that was left was me and the thieving ocean.
you and the sea
Your eyes are the color of the sea - a little playful, a little mysterious, and very dangerous.
Your waves crash, and I'm tossed overboard. Which way is up and which is down?
I'm drowning in the ocean of my love for you. Or am I drowning in this ocean of you?
The Curiosity of a 3-Year-Old
She arrives perched atop my hip –
messy curls and unbound giggles.
Ten little fingers
stretch to the storm,
squeezing the clouds tight.
She sings as cool rain
trickles down her arms.
She cautiously tastes the rising sun.
Burning nectar coats her throat.
In one big gulp,
she swallows the prickly truth.
Her curious brain blossoms
into a timid bluebird
soaring above the bay.
The shoreline dissolves into uncertainty –
nowhere to land.
She learns to fly even higher, faster.
Relish the chilling freedom
and feel grounded in your mother’s eyes.
Milopus’s Dream Comes True
One day there was a nice boy named Milopus, he loved the sea. He always wanted to live by it. His day had finally come, his family moved near the sea. He could go out to the sea everyday and see the sea everyday. He was so excited.
There was something strangely therapeutic about the North Shore on a clean, crisp, and cold November afternoon. No crowds congegrating along the water's edge. No noise except that coming from the waves, which raced up the beach and then receded backwards into the sea. No noise except that of the waves. Deep navy crests erupting into white, foamy froth. The wind, steady and silent, sped over the water, over the sand, and tickled the handful of flags that hung at half-mast just beyond the boardwalk. Cold. Stoic. Relentless. Yet, somehow, comforting. There was something strangely therapeutic about the North Shore.