After a Long Insomniac Night
I walked down to the sea in the early morning
after a long insomniac night.
I climbed over the giant gull-colored rocks
and moved past the trees,
tall dancers stretching their limbs
and warming up in the blue light.
I entered the salty water, a penitent
whose body was stained,
and swam toward a red star rising
in the east—regal, purple-robed.
One shore disappeared behind me
and another beckoned.
I confess
that I forgot the person I had been
as easily as the clouds drifting overhead.
My hands parted the water.
The wind pressed at my back, wings
and my soul floated over the whitecapped waves.
poem by Edward Hirsch
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Seagulls [1]
Seagulls are flying from edge tot edge,
their screeching voices call the veldt, the sky the sea
of South Africa stretching east and west
to a carnivorous hunt above the ridges, sea ditches
and small crabs, whose lives are spent in shell crevices, yield
splashing blood, ooze from their guts, their veins with
a little nucleus of skeleton. It was when I walked
facing the sea at its east end with a kind of dredge
of sprinkling sand, strolled through the lathering water
naked legged in the winter water, with a member as bait
under cast moon with rocks itching and scratching my feet
after I saw in my rising eyes the stretches, flattening
of this one land, a country stretching east to west,
(as if no other exists anywhere else)
south to north, wherever I were going
with hillocks, mountains, flashing city lights,
even trees looking somewhat blatantly
as if staring at me with cold winter bitterness.
I know that the sun still turns, until the next day
and the morning will visit as owls or rats to us
in hues of brilliant blue, only in the Cape it will be grey
and I know that day and night the seagulls fly over me
or we or us with wings covering South Africa, the whole
the continent of Africa, even the whole wide world
and their screeching will last until eternity.
[Reference: Owls by Leslie Norris.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seagulls
Seagulls are flying from edge tot edge,
their screeching voices call the veldt, the sky the sea
of South Africa stretching east and west
to a carnivorous hunt above the ridges, sea ditches
and small crabs, whose lives are spent in shell crevices, yield
splashing blood, ooze from their guts, their veins with
a little nucleus of skeleton. It was when I walked
facing the sea at its east end with a kind of dredge
of sprinkling sand, strolled through the lathering water
naked legged in the winter water, with a member as bait
under cast moon with rocks itching and scratching my feet
after I saw in my rising eyes the stretches, flattening
of this one land, a country stretching east to west,
(as if no other exists anywhere else)
south to north, wherever I were going
with hillocks, mountains, flashing city lights,
even trees looking somewhat blatantly
as if staring at me with cold winter bitterness.
I know that the sun still turns, until the next day
and the morning will visit as owls or rats to us
in hues of brilliant blue, only in the Cape it will be grey
and I know that day and night the seagulls fly over me
or we or us with wings covering South Africa, the whole
the continent of Africa, even the whole wide world
and their screeching will last until eternity.
[Reference: Owls by Leslie Norris.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Down To The Water
Written by dewey bunnell, 1977
Found on harbor.
The waves come in
Crash on the shoreline
Salty water, dont you know
Its yours, yours and mine
So grab your girl
And dont go wastin time
And lets go down to the water tonight
White capped clouds
Dance in the sunlight
Purple fishes watch
And show you some of their delight
The weathers fine
And everythings all right
So lets go down to the water tonight
Lets go down to the water tonight
Come on down, come on down
Come on down, down to the water
Come on down, come on down
Come on down, down to the water
Down to the water
Island music
Sways with a palm tree
Friends of mine lay back
And talk of times that werent so free
So lets have fun
And that means you and me
And lets go down to the water tonight
Lets go down to the water tonight.
Down, down, down to the water
Down, down, down to the water
Down, down, down to the water
Down, down, down to the water
Down, down, down to the water
Down, down, down to the water ...
song performed by by America
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just Before The Demonia Hurricane
Just before the Demonia hurricane
clouds in Durban
darkened the whole sky
and horizon.
I saw black water stretching out
with just here and there
‘a light dancing
on the surface of the sea.
Like a giant water monitor
that prepares to shatter
with its tail
the sea hissed menacing
about the coming chaos
and with rain and giant waves
I knew that destiny
somewhere else is hitting people mercilessly
and are even killing some.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Late March
Saturday morning in late March.
I was alone and took a long walk,
though I also carried a book
of the Alone, which companioned me.
The day was clear, unnaturally clear,
like a freshly wiped pane of glass,
a window over the water,
and blue, preternaturally blue,
like the sky in a Magritte painting,
and cold, vividly cold, so that
you could clap your hands and remember
winter, which had left a few moments ago—
if you strained you could almost see it
disappearing over the hills in a black parka.
Spring was coming but hadn't arrived yet.
I walked on the edge of the park.
The wind whispered a secret to the trees,
which held their breath
and scarcely moved.
On the other side of the street,
the skyscrapers stood on tiptoe.
I walked down to the pier to watch
the launching of a passenger ship.
Ice had broken up on the river
and the water rippled smoothly in blue light.
The moon was a faint smudge
in the clouds, a brushstroke, an afterthought
in the vacant mind of the sky.
Seagulls materialized out of vapor
amidst the masts and flags.
Don't let our voices die on land,
they cawed, swooping down for fish
and then soaring back upwards.
The kiosks were opening
and couples moved slowly past them,
arm in arm, festive.
Children darted in and out of walkways,
which sprouted with vendors.
Voices greeted the air.
Kites and balloons. Handmade signs.
Voyages to unknown places.
The whole day had the drama of an expectation.
Down at the water, the queenly ship
started moving away from the pier.
Banners fluttered.
The passengers clustered at the rails on deck.
I stood with the people on shore and waved
goodbye to the travelers.
Some were jubilant;
others were broken-hearted.
I have always been both.
Suddenly, a great cry went up.
The ship set sail for the horizon
and rumbled into the future
but the cry persisted
and cut the air
like an iron bell ringing
in an empty church.
I looked around the pier
but everyone else was gone
and I was left alone
to peer into the ghostly distance.
I had no idea where that ship was going
but I felt lucky to see it off
and bereft when it disappeared.
poem by Edward Hirsch
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The Canopy Of Sea-gull
The sea-gull floating
Over the blue surface of sea
That weave with unending waves
A beautiful attire for the shore
To be worn by him
When he tie the knot
With the sea whom he kisses
With unabated passion!
The sea-gull is frightened
To see the dark cloud canopy
Over the roaring ocean
Urging her to seek a canopy
For her to escape from the lashing
Monsoon that showered incessantly.
The sea-gull flapped
Its wet wings to raise
From the loved wave bed
Of the sea that fed
That soothes her with wind
With the music on full moon
At the peak of the tides
That come mid-noon
To rouse the passion of the ocean!
The sea-gull left
To the shore arranged
With arrayed Chinese nets
That raise its head by poles
Invoking hope to the sea-gull
To perch on a pole
Of a Chinese net
To have a safe shelter
From the rain violated sea
And from the monsoon ravaged sea
The sea-gull with no canopy
Sat on the pole with a rain bath
That she welcomed with screams.
But a gun targeting her
From the anchored ship
Made a deafening sound
That peeped through the rain wall
And hit the heart
Of the sea-gull
With a bullet flushed
By the trigger of the barrel
Of an unknown hunter
Sat on the back of the vessel
Who freed the soul of sea-gull
That moved to the eternal canopy.
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
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Sunset On The Beach
Warm wind blows on my skin,
waves splash as I splash my fin.
Warm blue water of the ocean,
fish swim around me in motion.
I stare up at the setting sun,
clouds of yellow, pink, purple
wrapped into clouds swirling into one.
A lonely pelican flies by,
as more clouds cross the sky.
I see lovers walk through sand,
each holding each other hands.
Then waves become white with force,
I realize I’ve stayed my course,
leaving before rain starts to pour,
I say “goodbye sunset” as I transform and walk to shore.
poem by Christina Sunrise
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Charles Webster
The pine woods on the hill,
And the farmhouse miles away,
Showed clear as though behind a lens
Under a sky of peacock blue!
But a blanket of cloud by afternoon
Muffled the earth. And you walked the road
And the clover field, where the only sound
Was the cricket's liquid tremolo.
Then the sun went down between great drifts
Of distant storms. For a rising wind
Swept clean the sky and blew the flames
Of the unprotected stars;
And swayed the russet moon,
Hanging between the rim of the hill
And the twinkling boughs of the apple orchard.
You walked the shore in thought
Where the throats of the waves were like whippoorwills
Singing beneath the water and crying
To the wash of the wind in the cedar trees,
Till you stood, too full for tears, by the cot,
And looking up saw Jupiter,
Tipping the spire of the giant pine,
And looking down saw my vacant chair,
Rocked by the wind on the lonely porch --
Be brave, Beloved!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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Water Wings
Water Wings
I am of the water, and my dreams foretell my home.
I have dreamt of the water, it is where my mind does roam.
Life manages our paths by the steps that we take,
I want my path to lead to the ocean, where the waves do break.
The water glistens in my soul, and runs through my veins,
And when I am one with the water, I carry the reigns.
Whether on or under or flying above,
The water is my passion, it is my true love.
I wake from the night, from my hopes and my dreams
I wake to find a world with all water themes.
Surrounded by love and caressed by the air
I see the lord has accepted my little dare.
My dreams have become life, and I have transformed.
I am now an angel of the sea, and water wings I have formed.
The ocean, the sea, the lakes and rivers blue
They give me my strength and my life they do fuel.
My water wings glide and are as smooth as ice,
They are gift from the heavens and they much more than suffice.
I sit here and I rest, on the shore of the land,
Knowing, the lord is my savior, and my biggest fan.
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Exiled
Searching my heart for its true sorrow,
This is the thing I find to be:
That I am weary of words and people,
Sick of the city, wanting the sea;
Wanting the sticky, salty sweetness
Of the strong wind and shattered spray;
Wanting the loud sound and the soft sound
Of the big surf that breaks all day.
Always before about my dooryard,
Marking the reach of the winter sea,
Rooted in sand and dragging drift-wood,
Straggled the purple wild sweet-pea;
Always I climbed the wave at morning,
Shook the sand from my shoes at night,
That now am caught beneath great buildings,
Stricken with noise, confused with light.
If I could hear the green piles groaning
Under the windy wooden piers,
See once again the bobbing barrels,
And the black sticks that fence the weirs,
If I could see the weedy mussels
Crusting the wrecked and rotting hulls,
Hear once again the hungry crying
Overhead, of the wheeling gulls,
Feel once again the shanty straining
Under the turning of the tide,
Fear once again the rising freshet,
Dread the bell in the fog outside,—
I should be happy,—that was happy
All day long on the coast of Maine!
I have a need to hold and handle
Shells and anchors and ships again!
I should be happy, that am happy
Never at all since I came here.
I am too long away from water.
I have a need of water near.
poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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Pleasure Without The Use Of Money
watch the dew
early in the morning
they glitter
look at the
rising of the sun
with so much
gentle light
the trees
are friends with
the sea breeze
the sands spread
peace on the shore
the sea brings
you the songs of
the waves
the clouds drift
so light
without any attachment
for things
the birds have
always the sky
as their playgrounds
look around you
just look around you
joy flows in your heart
and all these
are free
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Saturday Morning 1961
Jane climbed off
the Saturday bus to town
her black hair ruffled
by the wind
her eyes
looking over at you
her mother close by
you standing by the wall
having climbed from the bus
a few moments before
your mother stood
and spoke to others
you watched as Jane buttoned up
her coat against the winter cold
her fingers turning blue
then she moved over to you
and said
I saw you by the water tower last night
as we drove by
my father visiting
a parishioner in the village
I was watching the sun
moving beyond the Downs
you said
like some giant moving
away to sleep
she smiled
and surreptitiously
she touched your hand
her mother's head
looking the other way
talking to your mother
of her husband's work
of church or of weather
or whatever
you gazed at Jane's eyes
the turn of head
the smile on lips
the way her hands touched
oh to be with her
away from others
to talk and walk
and capture each moment
with her closeness
but then her mother
moved away to shop
and Jane followed
just behind
and as she walked away
you painted her figure
and beauty
in your mind.
poem by Terry Collett
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Fishing
They dropped the sails of their boats
near the shore of the Sea of Galilee
at early morning-light
and were heavy-eyed and tired
having worked in vain
all night long
and washed the nets
while the sun rose hot
in the blue cloudless sky.
From the distance a crowd
came nearer following
a holy man and listening to him
and he climbed into one of the boats,
asked Simon to sail
a little bit off shore
and sat teaching the people
from the boat.
The fishermen stopped working
and started listening
to the beautiful things that he said
and yet there he was still
just a man to them
and maybe a great prophet.
He instructed Simon
to sail into deep water
and to set the nets
for a catch.
Shaking his head
Simon explained that they
had worked all night long
without catching anything
but something about this holy man
made them obey.
When they brought the nets up
there were too many fish
for the nets to hold
and they beckoned their partners
in the other boat to help
and filled both boats
past their capacity
and suddenly Simon knew
that the Son of God
was sailing with him
and fell on his knees crying out:
'Go away from me, Lord;
I am a sinful man! '
And the fishermen were astounded
at the large catch that they had taken
and Jesus said that henceforth
they would be catching men
and they shored their boats,
leaving everything
to follow Him.
[Reference: Luke 5: 1-11.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Drifting Too Far
Out on the perilous deep,
Where danger silently creeps,
And storm's so violently sweeping,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Chorus:
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Today, the Tempest rose high,
And clouds o'er shadow the sky.
Sure death is hovering neigh,
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore,
You're drifting too far from shore,
Come to Jesus today,
Let Him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore.
Why meet a terrible fate?
Mercies abundantly wait.
Turn back before it's too late
You're drifting too far from shore.
Drifting too far from shore
You're drifting too far from shore (peaceful shore)
Come to Jesus today. Let him show you the way
You're drifting too far from shore...
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sic Vita
Like to the falling of a star,
Or as the flights of eagles are,
Or like the fresh spring's gaudy hue,
Or silver drops of morning dew,
Or like a wind that chafes the flood,
Or bubbles which on water stood:
Even such is man, whose borrowed light
Is straight called in, and paid to night.
The wind blows out, the bubble dies;
The spring entombed in autumn lies;
The dew dries up, the star is shot;
The flight is past, and man forgot.
poem by Henry King
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Soul’s Silhouetting Gulf’s Bay
I enjoy going out at the crack of dawning day,
Watching new sunrise come to the gulf’s bay.
When darkness from the earth starts its leap,
A whip-o-will calls for its mate with it to sleep.
Night sky turns its star lit darkness as I watch,
Into one breathless panorama for eye to catch.
God blends the morning sky with many a hue,
As blue of the sky replaces the morning’s dew.
Beautifully dotted with puffs of snowy white,
Outlined with different hues from rising light.
Horizon silhouetting every tall pine and palm,
With cool breeze blowing across water’s calm.
A thick brine salty mist rises from water’s face,
As all nature welcomes the new day into place.
Hearing different birds as they sing their calls,
Surf giving sweet fragrance as it rises and falls.
This is one of nature’s beauties God does give,
One, which I will never forget as long as I live.
Penning poetic words on paper is all I may do,
In sharing a majestic beauty of nature with you.
(© Simply Joseph,8/26/03 11: 50: 03 AM)
poem by Joseph Blitch
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Looking for Water
Still the leaves are spinning 'round
Take my hand as we go down, and down, and down
Looking for water
Well, our light's gone in a New York minute
Don't know about you, but my heart's not in it
(Looking, looking, looking)
I'm looking for water
I'm looking for water
(Looking, looking, looking)
I can't breathe the air, can't raise a fact
'Cause all we've got left is a beat in the night, and I'm
(Looking for water)
Looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
Take my hand as we go down, and down
Leave it all behind, nothing could be found
(I'm, looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
(I, looking for water)
Looking everywhere
(Looking for water)
Looking here and there
(I'm looking for water)
I'm looking for water
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I can't live in this cage, I can't eat this candy
The edge of the earth to the spin in my head
The look in your eyes and never means never
The dawn's early light, baby, dark is forever
(Looking, looking)
(Looking, looking)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for water)
(Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
Looking, looking)
I
(Looking for water)
(Looking for watter)
song performed by by David Bowie, music by David Bowie, lyrics by David Bowie from Reality
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Butterfly in The Sky
While i sit on the smooth rocks
Looking over the soft blue sea
Putting my foot in the water
Slowly moving through the water
Take a deep dive in the water
Feels so cold and relaxing
Coming up to the surface
Moving my arms into a freestyle stroke
Taking deep breaths
Moving faster and faster
Until i feel the wind in my wings
Turning into a butterfly
Up and up i go
Not in the water anymore
I am free in the wind
The sun shines on me
Warms my wings from the water
poem by Christina Weinke
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The Man Parts the Water
The man parts the water with a simple stone,
turning when the laughter
of a child retraces the shattered waves.
The man remembers with a smile
the days when he walked the shore,
dancing with silver-eyed seagulls, and he
was always looking ahead as he
stands and tilts releasing stone,
watching it sail through the misty shore.
The child parts the water with shrieking laughter,
and dreams about the day he will knowingly smile
as his cocked man-hand reaches the stormy waves.
Watching the moon pull the scornful waves
that kick the sand onto the shore, now he’s
the ghost of a child that stands with a smile.
He parts the water with a simple stone,
listening to the moon’s blue shaken laughter
at a man awaiting his golden hour upon the murky shore.
The grains whisper into the wind. And the shore
is crowded with memories of waves,
filling a young boy’s face with laughter.
It permeates the darkness, yet he
still craves the stone
to bring the man’s euphoric smile.
Caught in a moment without laughter or smiles,
walking along the shore
he wishes upon a simple stone
for another chance to play and frolic in waves.
The child sees his reflection with an anxious smile, and he
becomes a man between the laughter.
And he will always remember the laughter,
and he will always long for an innocent smile
of waiting for the day that unknowingly he
could never return to the shore.
Churning as it breaks the waves,
the past is left in simple stone.
But for now there is laughter upon the shore,
riding along the whispering waves,
the child’s future still a simple stone.
(- for Nicolas Mathew)
poem by Matt Ullman
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You and I, Only in dreams
You and I sail our boats across the sea
As the wind whistled in their soft symphony
Just like love songs that I heard in my dreams
And swaying our body to the tune of wave
You squeeze me tighter closer to you, then
I see your eyes glistened like water from a blue.
Then I remember our first embrace
The smile flickers on a salty water of glee
On where we’re watching the sea birds fly.
And gaze the gloaming day at the shingle.
Those sweet memories reflect on my mind
Painted in my heart, etched in my soul
Even if, it was only seen in my dreams
Like building a castle that made of sand.
As a stroke of wave, our love will vanish along.
Is it a dream of mine that end?
Like missing you in the midst of the shore
Where my heart was left in the tide of solitude
You and I travel on the wings of love
Fly as the bird higher than high
Until we drowned in the ocean of love
Until we found the pearl of affection
That captivates each other senses
That more than our heart could ever say
But then, this love is just an illusion
That you and I is only in dreams
That can be forgotten until the morning dawn
That can be buried in the shadow of water dance.
You, and I, only in my dreams
That can be blown by winds from shore
poem by Cheryl Aldea
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