Tag Archives: Ocean

And so, the Sea

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Ocean City, NJ June 2020

And so, the Sea

Once there was a water world,
and in its reflected blue came green,
then bright flowers and bees who hovered
attracted to their hues–

while we swam and slithered
to shore to spawn,
and tarried there a while,

sun-basking
fins became fingers,
feet left tracks on the beach–but

we’ve always heard the sea’s song,
not a siren call, but a tune synchronized
to heart rhythms

beat to beat
floating in the womb
in echo of our ocean birth,

we live called to water,
and so, the tide rises,
with a wave, the sea reclaims us.

For dVerse, Tuesday Poetics—the four elements.

Poem in The Tide Rises

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I’m pleased to have my poem “Sea Glass” published in The Tide Rises, The Tide Falls literary journal. It’s a journal devoted to ocean-themed poetry. My thanks to editor Wyeth Renwick. The timing is especially nice because today is the now-grown “little sprite’s” birthday, and her sister’s birthday was a few days ago. You can read the poem here.

Summers long ago. Ocean City, NJ

Horizon–Pantoum

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Sunset_on_the_Sea_MET_DT226485

John Frederick Kensett, Sunset on the Sea,” Wikipedia Commons

 

At the horizon, known and unknown meet,

this liminal space between sky and sea

when the sun dips down, and night not complete

where dreams are unleashed and left to dance free–

 

this liminal space between sky and sea,

in this place, past and future meld and dwell,

where dreams are unleashed and left to dance free

we hover here, and fall under its spell.

 

In this place, past and future meld and dwell,

dreams sigh spindrift over the sand. Enthralled,

we hover here, and fall under its spell

as tall ships vanish, beyond shouts and call.

 

What might fate foretell here–our joys and fears

when the sun dips down, and night not complete?

Do we seek, question, wait for what appears

at the horizon? Known and unknown meet.

 

 

Gina is hosting the next dVerse form, the Pantoum.  Her post explains the history and mechanics of the form.

This a re-working of one I wrote about a year ago. This poem was inspired by a post by Frank of A Frank Angle. I borrowed my first line from him. Thanks, Frank!  🙂

 

 

 

 

 

Waves Again (and Again), NaPoWriMo, Day 27

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No flask, no wine, no book of verse, this night

We reach for stars and moon, seek gleams of light

Hear the silver streams from the humming moon

Time and rhythms flow, in eternal rites

 

Upon the sand, waves pitch and break and roar

While spindrift flicks in salted breeze to shore

And you with me, now standing hand in hand

Watching the sea, waiting for dreams, and more.

 

Ilya Repin, “What Freedom”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I’m off prompt for today’s NaPoWriMo challenge. I took bits of yesterday’s NaPoWriMo poem and tribute line from Omar Khayyam’s famous verse for this attempt at a Rubaiyat for Frank Hubeny’s challenge on dVerse.

 

 

 

 

 

Waves, NaPoWriMo, Day 26

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The waves roar and break upon the sand–

so grand,

the spindrift whipping up to the clouds,

so loud,

the joy of faces blush-pinked,

and salt-speckled

with sea-kissed freckles.

We sink into the mucky-wet, cool puddles,

a jellyfish drifts beachward and back out to sea—

free to be.

A dancing sprite, cartwheels across the sand,

her wonderland,

gritty-warm underfoot,

holding the sun’s heat within,

let it in,

it radiates back in golden-glimmers,

like love, it shimmers.

Gulls chortle as they fly overhead,

diving down to grab some bread,

or perhaps some fries,

(those Boardwalk fries),

the scent of tar and ketchup mix

with suntan lotion,

the constant motion

of summer treats and seaside tricks,

a perfect beach day—

I want to stay,

watch and dream, as the ocean,

blue-green-gray,

and capped with white,

swirls and twirls,

(as it has)

from dawn of time to darkest night.

Cape May, NJ

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt: “we’d like to challenge you to write a poem that includes images that engage all five senses. Try to be as concrete and exact as possible with the “feel” of what the poem invites the reader to see, smell, touch, taste and hear.”

 

By the Sea We Gather, NaPoWriMo, Day 16

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Monday Morning Musings:

“My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.”

–Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “The Secret of the Sea”

“Look at that sea, girls–all silver and shadow and vision of things not seen. We couldn’t enjoy its loveliness any more if we had millions of dollars and ropes of diamonds.”

–L.M. Montgomery, Anne of Green Gables

 

By the sea, we gather, we four

full of longing to share our secrets–

no special sequences–

but in the way of friends

they flow like waves, rolling to the shore

tumbling, one after another

silvery shadows and thrilling pulses

visions of things almost seen

things that are and things that might be

 

We embrace and sit in this lovely space

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

this place in which my friend has found welcome shelter

a temporary place for body, if not heart,

a house between homes,

a loan

where she and her husband have lived

between and around unexpected circumstances—

well, life is chances,

no smooth sailing on this ocean–

sometimes we turn about

sometimes we tack into the wind

begin again,

navigate through a choppy sea

till we are free

to sail calmly and be

 

So, we

sit in this interim home

where we can hear the water play

(come this way, stay)

and seagulls laugh as they fly about

black-tipped white wings sing in the sky

with the sun glowing warm and high

and the wind sighs from sea and land

spindrift covers windows, cars, my hand. . .

 

is held out to my friends

we gently hold each other’s hearts

apart too often to know the everyday annoyances

of ailing mothers and troubled kids,

roosted egos, wandering ids–

we talk of husbands and silly cats,

all of the this and all of the that

and move from living room to kitchen

pitch in

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(though it is all prepared)

take our chairs

and over quiche

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

we relax some more, release

and feel a bit at peace. . .

 

to venture out to see some history of place and space

a concrete ship, a lighthouse, a bunker, the beach,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

where we walk a bit and feel

the sand beneath our feet–

in this moment, life is sweet,

away from troubles and toxic tweets,

this faux-summer day

holds us in its sway

I am mesmerized by the tumbling waves

the ocean takes, the ocean saves,

(à bientôt, inside, I say)

as we turn and walk away

 

back to the not-vacation house

where my friend offers us food and drink

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and we sink

into a relaxed state,

where troubles abate,

as we talk and drift

(eyes open, close, open again)

the golden sun beats down through window panes

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and slowly in a ball of fire, sinks

extinguished in the sea

 

we see it after we’ve walked

(ten miles one friend exclaims)

heading for a restaurant, but too long a wait,

no debate

and none of us that hungry anyway

no need to stay

so over pizza we watch Letterman, Seinfeld, and Obama

wishing we could get rid of the current nightmare, drama

and farce, in every moment, tweets and cheats–

the outside world, outside this place–

but even here the temperature drops

and the sun hides the next day, stops

her summer-teasing ways,

and in the morning, we watch branches sway

and the tom-catting chairs dance and prance

out on the deck

and the windows are specked

with salt and rain

we hear the sea

calling. . .

but let it be

 

to breakfast or brunch

(perhaps call it lunch)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

and linger around the table,

unable,

unwilling to part

our lives and thoughts

tumbled like my friend’s sea glass

smoothed and polished by laughter and tears,

friends together,

friends apart

friends in joy, in troubles,

friends for years

we’ve shared our secrets here by the sea

now it’s back to reality,

(we sigh)

we must do this again

spend

time together,

let’s do this, friends–

time flows and bends,

(an arc)

and ripples like the sea

and on it our friendship sails

(an ark)

so, we’ll journey together, and then—

well, we’ll see.

 

 

 

I’m off prompt for Day 16, NaPoWriMo.

Unusual formatting due to WP gremlins and a cat sitting on my keyboard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

http://www.napowrimo.net/day-sixteen-5/

Grey Changes with the Tides–Haibun

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We’re driving to the shore. Charcoal clouds drift and grow, and the day grows darker. All the rough lines and divisions between sea and sky are feather-brushed into one scene of blended grey. We circle the blocks, looking for a place to park, then sit in the car, listening to thunder, and watching the rain fall in silver sheets around us, filling the air with the scent of petrichor. The steady stream of water becomes drops that tip-tap-taper off, and the dark clouds blow away, leaving a blue sky with an egg yolk yellow sun. We walk to the beach. The sea is calmer now, but I hear it call–it is ever changing and never mute.

 

waved-claimed sandcastles

spindrift in endless cycles

blown by summer storms

Ocean City, NJ

 

This is for dVerse, Haibun Monday, where Björn asked us to write about grey.

I’ve also used this week’s words from Secret Keeper:  Calm/rough/storm /ease /mute

Sea Freedom: Shadorma and Yeats Challenge, Day 26

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I’m combining prompts again for Eliot’s November Shadorma Challenge and Jane’s Month with Yeats. Here is today’s quotation:

“I would that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!”–W.B. Yeats

 

In a dream–

we flew like birds,

laughing gulls

soaring high,

or stood amidst the sea foam,

time and physics paused

 

1024px-Ilya_Repin-What_freedom!

Ilya Repin. “What Freedom!” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

The Selkie’s Lament: Haibun

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In the wild water I thrive. I remember this. When I rise from the cold deep, the waves rock and cradle me. At dawn, the grey northern sea turns to fire. When darkness comes, the moon silvers the water, and I watch the stars twinkle and drift across the sky. I didn’t know how happy I was then, watching the days pass in light and shadow across the ocean. My brothers, sisters, and I danced our sleek bodies amidst the waves, laughing and singing our ancient songs. But I had glimpsed you from afar, and I was curious. When the summer sun lingered long and languid, I swam to the shallows, then walked ashore, my human form dripping dulse and smelling of brine. Love, I thought, but possession I became. And now— my true skin gone–I am marooned here, grounded, the sea forsworn forever more. And yet still it calls to me—come! Oh, my brothers and sisters–do you know my sadness? Do you hear my cries?

 

Tears under moon-glow

fall, drift, mingle with the sea

carried with the tides

 

Guillermo_Gómez_Gil_-_Salida_de_la_luna (1)

Guillermo Gómez Gil, “Moonrise,” [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

This is a haibun for Colleen Chesebro’s  Weekly Poetry Challenge. The prompt words were happy and sad. Sometimes my inner romantic pours out in a brain-tide. 😉

 

 

The Beach, a Memory: NaPoWriMo

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Dimply in the dapply light,

she danced in joy, my little sprite

the sea breeze tossed her springly hair

while seabirds squawckled in the air

she skipped upon the golden sand

till her father took her by the hand,

together they walked to wavy sea

(tumbling, white-capped, spumey sea)

where in a Jersey summer rite,

she jumped right in, such pure delight

 

Day 18, NaPoWriMo. The prompt was to incorporate neologisms, made-up words.

This poem is based on my memory of the first time our older daughter saw the ocean.