Oh, I have nothing to say
Imagine me sitting
On a big rock
Facing the sea
The sea is peaceful
Seagulls are flying
Behind is the morning sun
And at a distance
Is the silhouette of a horizon
Broken by a mole
Of an island
Small boats sail
Fisher folks are fishing
Children are splashing water
Their mothers are watching
Oh, I have nothing more to say
Indeed this is a happy day.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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When the Dark Comes Down
When the dark comes down, oh, the wind is on the sea
With lisping laugh and whimper to the red reef's threnody,
The boats are sailing homeward now across the harbor bar
With many a jest and many a shout from fishing grounds afar.
So furl your sails and take your rest, ye fisher folk so brown,
For task and quest are ended when the dark comes down.
When the dark comes down, oh, the landward valleys fill
Like brimming cups of purple, and on every landward hill
There shines a star of twilight that is watching evermore
The low, dim lighted meadows by the long, dim-lighted shore,
For there, where vagrant daisies weave the grass a silver crown,
The lads and lassies wander when the dark comes down.
When the dark comes down, oh, the children fall asleep,
And mothers in the fisher huts their happy vigils keep;
There's music in the song they sing and music on the sea,
The loving, lingering echoes of the twilight's litany,
For toil has folded hands to dream, and care has ceased to frown,
And every wave's a lyric when the dark comes down.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
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Fishing Boats
Weathered boards on the old dock
Sun trying to peak thru
The water like a sublime dream
Seagulls circle the boats
You were there with your humor
With your easy going smile
You loved to take people fishing
Soon I will go into memory
The waters will always laugh
Lakes, rivers and sea
Poetry of the tides
Campfires and moonlight
Old man and the sea
Get the net I gotta big one!
Your fishing boat in the dusk
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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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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We're All God's Children
Album: Peace In The Valley
Here comes a Baptist, here comes a Jew
There goes a Mormon and a Muslim too
I see a Buddist and a Hindu
I see a Catholic and I see you
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
You like the day, and I like the night
He's into country and he's isn't quit
There's folks on the left and the far right
But that doesn't mean that we have to fight
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
White folks, yellow folks, black and tan
On the same planet in the same plan
A feminist woman and a he man
We're all playin' the magic hand
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Oh, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
All god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Yeah, We're all god's children
Why can't we be
One big happy family
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all black and white
We're all precious in his sight
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
We're all god's children
Why can't we all be
One big happy family...
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Island poem.
The Island was there surrounded by sea,
Where the family stayed, so much to see;
The birds flying in the sky, and on the water too,
Yes! They were enjoying their holiday, it's true.
The Island stretched for many a mile, they could see,
With plenty of shells, and sand, the sunsets so pretty;
The Coconut palms, and date palms, to walk in the cool,
And the children enjoyed it all, for there was no school.
The husband enjoyed to go fishing each day,
The children loved to run on the sand and play;
The wife, she enjoyed it too, to rest under the tree,
Then she called them all at night, it is time for tea.
The Island holiday soon came to an end,
The children said, our holiday we can pretend;
That we are still on our lovely holiday retreat,
And remember the birds, and the birds so sweet.
Have you ever been to an Island, for a holiday?
Maybe you travelled far, to Queensland, is what you'd say;
Or was it somewhere in the Islands of the south see?
You'll know it was a holiday to feel so very free.
poem by Margaret Haig
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I Like That Idea
i like the idea of what boats are meant for
i told you once
boats are meant to sail
far to the sea
and dissolve in the horizon
till they are gone
till they sink
to the bottom of the sea
and kiss its floor
and become the
permanent ornaments
of the corrals and sands
but i like your idea too
of boats
like mine sailing to the farthest sea
of boats like yours
that come back and embrace again
the welcoming arms
of the ports and the shores
and hear the sounds
of men and women
and children
all rejoicing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Imagine the World
Imagine the world ……………………….
Imagine the world without wars…
Imagine the world without your laws
Imagine your life without fear
Imagine your eyes without a tear
Imagine all men were real men
Imagine…imagine…imagine…
Imagine life without hate
Imagine you knew your own fate
Imagine all children were happy
Imagine all nations were free
What would life be like?
Imagine no-one were blind
Imagine all the woes behind
Imagine…….imagine……..imagine….
Imagi ne earth were flat
Imagine man without a heart
Imagine the day without light
Imagine the dark without the night
Imagine……….imagine……imagine……
Imagine faces without a smile
Imagine birds without a nightingale
Imagine …imagine…imagine
What would life be like?
poem by Bouche Cousue
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Freedom Curtailed
Freedom for some
Seagulls fill the air with joy
anchored sailboats tug want to be free
sail around the world alone,
just as a Japanese fishing vessel did
ending up on the shores of Canada.
Alas, caught by the coast guard as it
prepared to sail for Chile and Peru.
Anchored in a lonely bay
waiting for its captain to catch up.
This slavery of navigation, yet it
had a year of freedom.
Seagulls fly, sleek bodies white as snow,
a storm is brewing
and the ocean is theirs alone.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Katrina: The Shrimpers Tried Their Best
Twilight sprinkles mist over October waves...
Ribbing docks, straining through nets...
Into sunset boats waiting for tides...
Wishes of months vanishing in weeks...
When brown water seethes, barren
As ash...no one knows, as ropes loosen
Again...
The night harvest will be dreams in waking
Sunrises...nets empty, dripping water...
Bridges open, shut, open once more...
It is only October. Cold. Seagulls keep
Boats company by sunset again...
Flying, sweeping, well fed...
On their own, soaring down on unwary
Fish, too-slow crabs...empty shadows
Shred into webs of too-soon
Family Holidays...yet,
Children always laugh, after little fingers
And eyes forget the presents
Still in stores.
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
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A Metaphor For Myself.....
early afternoon
i undress and walk towards the water
it is a gray moment
i wade into the water
it is clear
and i can see some fish and
sand at the bottom
i am alone
it is too peaceful away
from everyone
the water is lukewarm
derived from noon
and the shore is too private
to myself
the trees are still and the cottage
has an eye
staring at me from afar
i swim farther, into the depths
floating
there are no seagulls
a ship with a smoke shears the
far horizon
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Storm In My Sea Finally Subsided...,
the storm of my sea finally subsides
i am a chinese silk spread on the tranquility of the salty water
seagulls leave because there is no fish to hunt
and take upon their hungry beaks
i have no regret, i have finally seen the sun
across my whiter horizon
i see boats and nets spread on my surface
i am a very calm day
soon the children will come and play
throw balls on my white sands
fill this space with laughter and not one of them will ask
what a storm was, where there was a house here before but was
taken by the rage of the wind
gone,
the children have nothing to do with the past
they are not meant for that
an old man arrives with a grandson, being helped to sit on one of the chairs in the shore under a shade of a big old tree
he is the thinker of this storm this place
he knows everything, but he is silent as a dead leaf on his feet
he rests his head on a pillow puts his feet and hands in the fold
wears his dark sunglasses and stares at the far far horizon
i will join him when the sun finally sets, when the color of the horizon turns into orange and then black
as i turn off the light.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Morning Idea
when you arrive this morning
i am already prepared
for whatever you say and would want me to do
i have changed clothes, washed my face
combed my hair, and ready to go with you
wherever and whatever happens
I am waiting
and you are so silent
looking over the window
facing the sky blue sea
and the flying white seagulls,
since i respect you
i sit beside you and
i will not ask
why
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Square Water
SQUARE WATER
When the bus collapsed on the road
To the capital
A man in blue opened the hood
And spit at the engine
While off to the side
Down a rough slope
Was a square cut body of water
Neutral and calm for all:
Water buffalo, children and dogs.
A radiantly happy girl is climbing out.
The buffalo gaze over at two men
In white pith helmets and black clothes
Who seem to be digging a hole.
A bicycle is parked between the children
And the men
The water is roiled by swimmers
Splashing in the brown liquid.
Bruegel should have been there
To mix the ordinary with something
Unexpected:
Perhaps a boy with wings falling
Off in the distance.
That rapid movement might have caught
The eyes of the buffalo
But the men would have been too busy
Digging and the children would have been
Having too much fun to look up.
When the bus started I framed
A shot that included them all except
For the imaginary falling boy
Who only hit the water in my imagination.
poem by Burgess Needle
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Slowly slowly like this
Slowly slowly
The rippling waves hit the boat
A small fishing boat on the lake
In which he and I sit
Softly back and forth
Waves caused by some water ski
Do not disturb us
My hands stretch out on wood
Behind me as I look
At him
He is telling me a story
Bashfully looking away
Each time I try to catch
His eye
Familiarity warms his body
To mine
The distance is now less
But he still looks away
I smile
He is so cute
When he does this
He has no idea how much
I love him
And how happy I am
Just being with him
Like this
Looking at him
Watching him
And loving him
Always loving him
Like this
poem by Harriet James
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By the Sea
In a hammock by the sea
As I lay there under a tree
The waves flow with tender ease
As the wind blows through the trees
Ocean waves a calming sound
So serene and tranquil it is found
An endless ocean it may seem
Where eyes meet the horizon, is like a dream
And along the horizon, clouds do part
As the artist sketches a perfect art
Deep blue water and the tides go by
The ships that sail and sea-gulls fly
The dolphins dance to the morning light
The flying fish just caught my sight
The divers dive to the coral reef
In search of pearls, they must keep
The mermaids dip and dance along
Under the moonlight, as they sing a song
The sight so pleasant to the eye
As they rock me to a lullaby.
poem by Meena Mustafa
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Snapshots
Just across the busy road and the crowded cityscape,
Ocean waves playfully froth and undulate, while I gape.
All you have to do is to turn your back to the city,
And captivated, feel filled with serenity…
From the distance hooting, leisurely ships approach,
I walk towards a beckoning rock, shining and smooth.
Sail boats from afar; appear as colourful, tiny dots
My mind’s eye is busy capturing the snapshots.
Tanned fishermen return with the day’s catch and nets
Sun is spreading its amber steaks and aura in the west.
Soon city dwellers flock to the cool sandy beach,
How lucky, it is walking distance and within reach.
Taken by surprise, a huge wave drenches one and all,
Children go on screaming with delight and play ball.
Rejoicing in the company, I watch the distant horizon,
It seems the sky has come down to converse with the ocean…
poem by Mamta Agarwal
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Rye
Seagulls in the church tower calmly nest undeterred,
Though willfully her bells clang the eleventh hour.
Outside another, startled, launches itself from
A weathered crenulation, swoops through streets toward
The old school; rising up, decides to turn and scour
The bay. Tired fishing boats and dinghies tilt, conform
As morning tide repents, drags in the days sad news,
Lapping confessions against hulls, heard by no one.
This small fishing town’s gentle habit continues.
The seagull circles, heading out over tide worn
Coastlines, growing faint like ash against cloudy sky.
Further down the coast, at Fairlight Cove, gasping, drenched,
A man climbs the cliff’s steps too weak to speak or cry,
Bears news; his friends still out there, miles from shore, and drowned.
poem by Neil Young
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Love is imagination
Love is imagination
We first imagine someone
That will be with us
Here and forever
We imagine someone
That always on our side
In sad and happy moment
We imagine someone
That gives us power
Through all difficult time
We imagine someone
That gives us dream
To fly to the wide sky
We imagine someone
That sleeps with us in the night
And still there when we open our eyes in the morning
We imagine someone
That gives us children of love
And spends his old days with us
We imagine someone
That makes us laugh
Until happiness hurts
We imagine someone
That makes us cry
Until tear becomes relief
We imagine someone
That really cares and loves us
When our imagination fits with our heart
Love continues…
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Sweet Dreamland
On the sea of time I sail with you
The sea is calm and the sky is blue
We are sailing for sweet dreamland
We must hurry give me a hand
Take a look at those merry dolphins
It's a sign. Do you know what it means?
I can see through my telescope
An island full of dream and hope
Take a look at those flying seagulls
I am so excited check my pulse
O my sweetie my near and dear
Be patient we are almost there
poem by Asif Andalib
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