Clouds shower silver
My salted sanded feet meet
Treasure-chest unhinged
Glistening shell halves askant
Ruffled gull, pewter and pearl.
tanka by Diane Hine
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My Mind Is An Oyster
The heart, can only be as open as the mind.
The mind, the creator of my world.
Not the world, but my world.
The mind, building walls.
Walls of fear, resentment and bitterness.
The spirit is trapped.
Bouncing from heart to mind.
Like a ping pong ball.
For it is my mind that is closed.
I listened to the teachings of other closed minded teachers.
They speak of a peace, they do not have.
The preach of a love, that they still seek.
The world is my oyster.
My mind is an oyster.
To find the pearl, the shell must first open up.
It is once the mind opens, I can connect to the source.
The source that tells me I am the true treasure.
I see so many closed shells.
For their pearl is as brilliant as mine.
But through the closed shell it cannot be seen.
They do not know they are just as rich as I.
So they try to take mine, because their shell is too difficult to open.
My shell is open.
I do not want your treasure for myself,
I have my own.
I am content.
I want your shell to open,
I want you and the world to see the brilliance of yours.
For it is when the mind opens,
Your true life will begin.
poem by Ryan Lee Morris
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Probablys (Life Poem)
Two halves would not be one,
If our paths had never crossed,
And we went our separate ways,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves on different paths,
But we were meant to be,
If not sooner than later, but
Where would we probably be?
Two halves in separate worlds,
Spinning apart never knowing,
They were meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves would be unfulfilled,
Because if we’re apart too long,
I feel empty and lost in space,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves of two worlds collided,
When years ago you said yes,
Our worlds are meant to be one,
Where would we probably be?
Two halves became whole, and
The part of our lives apart, is not
Going to be that question of,
Where would we probably be?
poem by Ian Beckett
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Jim Hawkins's diary
every boy grew up must go to the sea
home sick, mother's warm embraces to me
Lily, I love you please just wait for me
waving shades of the sails speak silent words to me
father, now you can be proud of me I went to the sea
I wrote in my diary 'Jim Hawkins went to the sea
for the seagulls can fish accompanied only by me'
I met John Silver and he was with a wooden leg
the sea scent was coming out of his hair form a distant ship
Silver was a seafaring man with a red-green parrot
Silver was the only man, Flint feared the most
Flint was a captain of a vessel with six men crew
murdered all six of the crew and left them to shape
outstretched arms pointing to his prime treasure
the ancient captain sent them to Davy Jones' locker
'Darby M Graw, fetch aft the rum'
Flint has died at a home Pirate's inn
if he brought the pleasure into sin
the vulture is to be dead within
fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest
Silver, I have been to the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find it's mysterious home land (said Silver)
Billy told me to search the treasure island (said Jim)
thee have to find me at the home land (said Silver)
old mate I long for you and thy wisdom (said Silver)
Silver, thee received their black symptom (said Jim)
captain, together we will reach Flint's kingdom (said Silver)
Billy has died because he received the black symptom (said Jim)
fifteen men all died for a dead man's chest.
poem by Mohammed Hassan
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The shell
Look what a beautiful shell of ivory white
Recently thrown at the sands by the rushing tide
See what a lovely shell a pad of a soft sloth snail
Small and pure without the notoriety of a pearl
Lying on the back of sand hill so nigh to my foot
Brittle, frail spared by the violent breakers loot
Oh what mind what hand has made it so fairly well
Ah, empty, vacant from the creature that within it dwells
Its delicate spire and whorl
How exquisitely are weaved its stripes of colors in whole
A miracle of design, that lives through ancient time
No less in beauty and charm than a poet rhyme
A piece of beauty is called a 'shell' by man
Not a pearl, not a jewel but unmoving dull clumsy name
A 'shell' which does not recall any treasure or historical fame
Let him who did not create it call it as he can
He who passes by it without notice, this pleasure from his eyes to ban
Yet this beauty holds in the sands and its charm contends the same
Copy rights 2010
All rights reserved
The Silver Birch
O SILVER one, O silver one,
Above the valley of the Bane:
O stem with snow-water agleam,
And glistening limbs, and trails of pearl.
The sun has sent a slanting kiss:
Red fire and gold, his arrows burn:
Now that he aims a shaft at thee,
Red fire and gold to silver turn!
When I am spent with the ways of men.
I'll wash my hands in melting snow:
And live with thee among the oaks,
And watch the river swirl below.
But I must ever be travelling
From sea to sea, from shoal to shoal:
Farewell ! O still and beautiful,
I would thy valley were my goal!
poem by Herbert Asquith
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3. Riches
No silver spoon when I was born
Or riches in a treasure chest
Without the wealth to help me through
I quickly learned to do my best
By finding all the best in life
Costs nothing it comes free
Respect is something you can’t buy
You earn it there’s no fee
I did my best and earned respect
Gave back more than a measure
By giving others things I’d learned
Meant a poor man could have treasure
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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Leaving Sorrow
Holding my breath
At the bottom of the sea
Where I keep my secrets
In a treasure chest.
I have drowned Sorrow
In an ocean of regret,
Tied her firm
To that treasure chest.
I break the surface
And take a new breath,
Leaving Sorrow
Far below.
poem by Annabel Cruz
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Chest
Chest, what power do thou h've?
That women place their heads on
men's when they're showing love
Chest, what charm do thou have?
That women take virtue of thee to pray
for their siblings that sucked their breasts
Chest, what spirit do thee have?
That women curse men with thee that
otherwise, if man didn't meet them chest to chest
Chest, what glory do thou h've?
That people beat you with palm
and swear
Chest, of what important is you?
That women knock their heads on
men's chest during the fighting
turquoise and pewter
with silver lining, the sky
the morning, the bay
haiku by Ray Schreiber
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Caving In, White, Salted Flesh
The only sound
He makes is the one he makes
With his fingers, snapping off
A pincer, boiled-red, shelled husk
Caving in, white, salted flesh
Rising like clouds, fraying.
My mother watches all this
Like a rapt audience. If she could,
She would rise up in a passion
To applaud, convinced she is
Not the metaphor in the bowl,
Pink leg dangling, suspended
Over the rim, chest in pieces,
Spooned and well-dug, emptied.
poem by Cyril Wong
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Background Of Softest Blue Sky (Rev.)
Rainfall in thin silver slivers
crystal drops cling to rails
sun a radiant shaft through clouds
gleaming strings stream down
thunder rolls in deep-throated delight
rumbling contentment, satisfied
Rain plays percussion on roof iron, grass
glows in phosphorescent green
sunrays form dragonfly wings in my eyes
as I gaze into a rich, baritone thunder
a symphony in silver
A mint imperial sun winking
playing crystal drops twinkling
on blades of grass, raindrops in chords
on roof counterpoint to thunder’s
comforting booms, sunbeams glistening in
silver clouds, background of softest blue
poem by Margaret Alice
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Olympics 2012
Flu Theory of Failure
In the Olympics year of twenty twelve
Flu took gold in Australia.
With gold on the chest of the flu,
Silver was the best we could do-
Thus Silver's Gold, not A Failure.
Boo Hoo Hoo
Peculiar to
Australia,
The sulphur-crested cockatoo.
Other white Australians,
The lot of them are aliens,
Silver is their hue,
Will be Sally's too.
With gold on the chest of the flu,
Silver's the best she can do-
Her silver is gold, not a failure.
Castaway
I learnt in the Laser Class race
What function at the coal face
You could possibly qualify for
By sailing an ironing board.
Say Tom Hanks had been able to do it:
he'd have been off the isle in a minute,
His wife wouldn't have gotten so bored,
And we'd've been spared an hour or four.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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I Went Down into the Desert
I went down into the desert
To meet Elijah—
Arisen from the dead.
I thought to. find him in an echoing cave;
For so my dream had said.
I went down into the desert
To meet John the Baptist.
I walked with feet that bled,
Seeking that prophet lean and brown and bold.
I spied foul fiends instead.
I went down into the desert
To meet my God.
By him be comforted.
I went down into the desert
To meet my God.
And I met the devil in red.
I went down into the desert
To meet my God.
O, Lord my God, awaken from the dead!
I see you there, your thorn-crown on the ground,
I see you there, half-buried in the sand.
I see you there, your white bones glistening, bare,
The carrion-birds a-wheeling round your head.
poem by Vachel Lindsay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Sheets
We used to meet
on this corner
in the same wind.
It fought us up the hill
to your house,
blew us in the door.
The elevator rose
on guests of stale air
fed on ancient dinners.
Your room smelled
of roach spray and roses.
In those days
we went to bed with Marvell.
The wind ruffled sheets and pages,
spoke to us through walls.
For hours I used to lie
with my ear to your bare chest,
listening for the sea.
Now the wind is tearing
the building down.
The sheets are rising.
They billow through the air like sails.
White with your semen
holding invisible prints
of the people we were,
the people we might have been,
they said across the country
disguised as clouds.
Momentarily they snag
on the Rocky Mountains,
then rise
shredded into streamers.
Now they are bannering westward
over California
where your existence
is rumored.
poem by Erica Jong
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Before March
THE gull's image and the gull
Meet upon the water
All day I have thought of her
There is nothing left of that year
(There is sere-grass
Salt colored)
We have annulled it with
Salt
We have galled it clean to the clay with that one autumn
The hedge-rows keep the rubbish and the leaves
There is nothing left of that year in our lives but the leaves of it
As though it had not been at all
As though the love the love and the life altered
Even ourselves are as strangers in these thoughts
Why should I weep for this?
What have I brought her?
Of sorrow of sorrow of sorrow her heart full
The gull
Meets with his image on the winter water.
poem by Archibald MacLeish
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Lost Treasure Chest
Magical treasure chest made of gold,
has in it many stories to be told.
On one uneventful day,
Golden treasure chest was taken away.
I had it packed in back room with shoes,
that’s when someone decided to lose,
my treasure chest right on site,
hide it from me with all their mite.
Luckily I went to store
found 20 treasure chests more galore.
Painted one up really quick,
I had a art show party within a week.
Watercolor paintings of Melodie,
hang on wall for children to see.
see along with Krendoll island set,
They would play on it and not forget
Forget the magic of Krendoll island I did make,
with birthday props like birthday cake.
Art show birthday party at Mexican Bizarre,
I set up the birthday party with a star.
Children showed up to find presents and unfreeze,
dragons that would begin to sneeze.
Once they had the heat device,
which was magical and would suffice,
To melt the spell on them,
Making them turn into birthday child’s friend.
Birthday child friends come alive,
They would have to find the birthday child.
Once Ice Spell broken, Birthday child would be all smiles.
Birthday child would receive a birthday crown
and beautiful birthstone gown.
From magical golden treasure chest,
the one that would become magical and the best.
Making birthday child’s wishes be recorded inside,
the magical treasure chest’s Krendoll Chronicles it would reside.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 31,2011
www.purplepoems.com www.suzaechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Fuddy
On my room
To the floor bed...
I was tasted
With the
My girl friend
Chest bun...
Toung was play
Bun of chest...
Mouth wanted
Milk...
Not for the
Chest bun....
No weat
No sweet
No salt..
Not for the bun...
Meet taste
Vegtable taste
Also not ther;
Chest bun
Taste for
With big and
Beauty...! ! !
And fuddy
poem by Otteri Selvakumar
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Feel Like The Sea-Gull
I feel like the sea-gull
That wanders the ocean-waves calm or tossed
With tempests in mid-Ocean or sea-shore:
I am the sea-gull
That with parched throat
Cries his piercing cry across the landscape
Where sea and sky are only and they meet
In my lone call:
I am the sea-gull that protests
And speaks injustice and its pains
And that is why
My throat is parched – yet I am free
Free in my flight across the air
Flipping around my wings; moving
Flying miles and kilometers moving
Flying near to land as much as can I
For I must bespeak – people must hear me.
My call I know will pierce
And the hearts
That lie now frozen by unjust hands
Will feel the warmth of summer in their innocence
Their throats no longer will be parched
Nor will they thirst
But by the springs of paradise will slake their thirst:
And they will have justice.
And the earth will flower again, no longer groan
Under its burdens
And I
And I, the lonely sea-gull of the ocean-winds
Will cry my eerie cry no more
My deed done my heart can break
And I
The lonely sea-gull will float
Float speechless on the Ocean’s bosom to the skies.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Lost Treasure Chest
Magical treasure chest made of gold,
has in it many stories to be told.
On one uneventful day,
Golden treasure chest was taken away.
I had it packed in back room with shoes,
that's when someone decided to lose,
my treasure chest right on site,
hide it from me with all their mite.
Luckily I went to store
found 20 treasure chests more galore.
Painted one up really quick,
I had a art show party within a week.
Watercolor paintings of Melodie,
hang on wall for children to see.
see along with Krendoll island set,
They would play on it and not forget
Forget the magic of Krendoll island I did make,
with birthday props like birthday cake.
Art show birthday party at Mexican Bizarre,
I set up the birthday party with a star.
Children showed up to find presents and unfreeze,
dragons that would begin to sneeze.
Once they had the heat device,
which was magical and would suffice,
To melt the spell on them,
Making them turn into birthday child's friend.
Birthday child friends come alive,
They would have to find the birthday child.
Once Ice Spell broken, Birthday child would be all smiles.
Birthday child would receive a birthday crown
and beautiful birthstone gown.
From magical golden treasure chest,
the one that would become magical and the best.
Making birthday child's wishes be recorded inside,
the magical treasure chest's Krendoll Chronicles it would reside.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on August 31,2011
www.suzae.com www.suechevalier.com www.suzaria.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Rainbow Shower
Hey rainbow shower, rainbow shower
shower on me, shower on me..
Pick a pink flower, a shy pink flower
and shower on me, shower on me
Hey rainbow shower, I m lost in a hey
Sprinkle the purple orchids n roses
and take me to the bay, oh rainbow shower...
just flower on me, flower on me..
Hey rainbow shower, drench me with colors
cozy blues green gold and yellows,
sparkle the light with shades bright
I m crazy after you, my rainbow shower...
Hey rainbow shower, rainbow shower
Can you dance wid me, yaa dance wid me
Play the tunes of the skies, big grey blues n wise
oh rainbow shower, my rainbow shower! !
poem by Sanjay Kamlakar
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