On The Beach
the sun is up.
the peebles are hot.
the trees are brewing their greens
to the pluffy blue clouds.
we huddle together on a
thatch-roofed hut by the shore.
the waves splash on the
side of the big rock.
the sands gleam
some diamond sparks
the horizon is silvery
the cove curves beyond us
a little farther
a nude man approaches
another nude woman
and they run towards the
blue waters of the sea
we watch. This is new.
This is happening
in this country.
we watch closely.
and then the clouds
turn gray. The rain comes.
some leaks on the roof
of this hut. We listen.
We still have too much
to really learn.
we pretend we are
innocent about what is
happening.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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To A Young Man On His Maiden Voyage At Poetry
i am confronted with a very long
and wide shore
filled with sands and pebbles
though the waves are gentle
and the clouds so blue
and the far horizon as peaceful
like a line drawn by a pen
on a piece of yellow paper
everything seems very familiar
nothing new
except you little blue bird
chirping and i am amazed
you are more beautiful
than the rest.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Nothings Happening By The Sea
Salty river
Falls asleep in the bay
Always gets there
Never early, never late
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
White waves tumble down
And gently roll back into blue
On wooden seats outside the bar
The couples make their rendezvous
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
The trouble has been found
Theres too far ups and too many downs
I found a level that feels just right
Theres no mistaking where Im going tonight
Nothings happening
Nothings happening by the sea
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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They Tremble
The winter wind is wonderfully warm today,
clouds, contrails mostly, criss-cross the sky,
white spaghetti in blue sauce, and spicy
The trees rock gently in the desert's breath
birds play games merrily in the sky,
wild squirrels dance psychotic summersaults
It is morning, the must of mondays is moribund
soothing shadows sing with simmering spirits,
dust and debris lies dead on the driveway,
In the car we huddle, and I tune to bluegrass
we drive, far up the canyons, smiling and laughing
here we are, finally; on this back country road
Here blue brush bows along the bumpy road,
hawks hang high above in hungry harmony
and gum trees gather in guarded groves
We watch the trees, listen to the subdued wind
a moment only, we see the leaves tremble
they tremble, and then one by one, they fall
poem by Poet Dragon
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Ocean Canvas
gray shoreline
light blue sea
at the end dark blue
horizon
shadows of trees
on the other side
farther a hazy dot
the island of Apo
a seagull flies
dissolves to the hazards
of distance
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Secret To Prosperity!
Wandering clouds not so focused,
For where to rain, it not yet decided,
Running from country to country,
Gathering the seeds that can spray,
People look up for rain, but no clouds,
Bright yellow sun and the blue sky,
The tears of rain in their deepened eyes,
The shopping clouds look down at them,
Clumsy they are and hunger rules them,
The proud clouds with the bounty of water,
Hate these poor people and move quicker,
And there are green mountains with flowers,
The running clouds stop all of a sudden,
For it amazed by the swelling of that woman,
Just start to clear what it stores for many hours,
Heavy rain on the mountain and the river sisters,
Flow down to the civilization, the rich people,
All around, as they know how to save water,
People who are ignorant of importance of forest,
Fell the trees for quick money and luxury,
Those who already felled, know the misery,
The clouds in the sky, know this exactly,
The poor will remain poor, if not sorry,
And to replant the trees quickly.
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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A Nude Artist
A Nude Artist
he says he is a nude artist
because he is naked when he paints
such nakedness has
nothing to do with being a nude artist
a naked artist who paints a cat or a chicken
is not a nude artist
there is no nude cat
thyere is no nude chicken
just paint a naked woman
and he will be called a nude artist
an artist is not an art
he must know that
- Frog Mantra, Accents Publishing,2012 -
poem by Suchoon Mo_
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Moody sky Sensitive sea
the moods of sky
the quirks of sea
The sky with its emotions
how the sensitive sea reflects?
The sky is all to itself
immersed in loneliness
so clear with thoughts
Blue without the blues
The sea is now blue
the silent waves rubbing the shores
watching the lonely sky
reaching out to it on the horizon
Soldiers of war, the dark black clouds
covering the blue sky
colouring the blue sea black
darkness rules!
The clouds so near, engulfing the sea
loud and stormy
ferocious waves
All in black, All in black!
poem by Sudarkodi Nagarethinam
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The Clouds Of Narcissus
the clouds of narcissus pass by today
along a clear pond by the side of a rice paddy
they stop to get a good glimpse of their faces and bodies
cottony white, shades of blue, pluffy, and soft
they stop and take a longer gaze, admiring every
beauty of its hands and fingers, a longer time
an island of grass some reeds and dry leaves
get curious about what is happening why the clouds
stop and made a longer stare over the clear reflection
of their bodies on the little pond. They talk. They are curious.
and then the clouds finally get done with what is usual.
they left. Slowly sail away from what they are seeing lovingly.
Nothing happens since then. They own no one.No one owns them.
They leave. They do not know how to love. Neither are they loved.
They are gone. The island of grass is silent. The reeds hush.
And the pond has become murky.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Sunday swim
upon a blue sky
hangs the clouds
upon a blue sea
the floor is light gray
between this two
walls i
put myself
amidst the winds
blowing my hair
as i struggle
against the waves
away from shore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Awestruck for M lady Tara
Awestruck
In the distance peals of thunder
as the skies are rent asunder.
Massed ranks of clouds threatening rain
the lightning strikes and strikes again.
Forked spears of light, electric blue
can pierce the storm clouds through and through
The storm clouds offer no defence.
I know from past experience.
The lightning bolts will win again
and force the clouds to release rain
upon the thirsty earth below.
I watch and wait to see the show.
I watch in wonderment and awe
Although I‘ve seen it all before.
07/04/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Blue Moon
Blossoming from the rock
A soul of a desperate lock
Becomes one with the blue moon
Hues of blue and gray
A due of death today
A blue moon rises in the west
It seemed so long ago
When the moon was so-so
And never went to the side of the blue
Now life is happening
And flowers are dying
The moon so blue is in the middle of the night sky
A love is a death
With a beginning and end
Just like the blue moon
With the beginning of a new day
The moon is hidden
And a new life is born
Unlike the moon of blue
Copyright 2006 Dustin Bennefield
poem by Dustin Bennefield
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About Her (Villanelle)
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She being found down by the shore, of Ice Lake
She being the frozen nude woman
She being the apparent victim of a madman
She being pretty like a one of a kind snowflake
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She, being frozen solid! Said the newsman
She being, negative 33 degrees below zero for God’s sake!
She being the frozen nude woman
She, must be vindicated by the hangman
She must be accounted for, never to forsake
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She must have a name? Asked the police man
She must have had some identification for heaven’s sake
She being the frozen nude woman
She was a beautiful woman
She is now but a-heartache
She having filthy finger nails like that of a workingman
She being the frozen nude woman
poem by William Cavanagh
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September afternoon for M lady Ernestine.
September sun spasmodically
breaks through the clouds which threaten rain.
Sometimes the clouds triumphantly
block out the sunshine once again.
I watch and wait expectantly
to see the sun come smiling through
A little optimistically
I hope to see the sky turn blue.
The storm clouds try but can’t resist
a brisk wind blowing from the sea
They have no choice the wind persists
Although they move reluctantly.
The clouds are gone the sun shines on
and will do ‘til the day is done.
Wednesday,08 September 2010
http: // blog.myspace, com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Whats Really Happening
Grown inside a plastic box
Micro thoughts and safety locks
Hearts become outdated clocks
Ticking in your mind
Now its time to close our eyes
Now its time to say goodbye
Now its time to face the lie
That wed never cry
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
All the clouds are made of glass
And theyre slowly sinking
Falling like the shattered past
Were we built to last?
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
Now its time to close our eyes
Now its time to say goodbye
Now its time to face the lie
That wed never cry
Whats really happening, what tore us apart
Whats really happening
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I tell her these things when I come home
So much
Has been taken for the quest of something original
Time squeezes to something interesting
Something original
I am carried away
I look out this glass window
Seeing the sea
Farther blue nearer me is brownish
The river is flooded the rain poured wildly in the mountain
A blue green car passes by below
A woman with a basket of something
(I cannot see clearly)
Holds her boy like a twig of a tree
The wind must be blowing hard
There could be typhoon
I see these happening, I am from here. I live here.
I tell her these things when I come home
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Look For Me
Look for me in the sun set I’m there
The glorious sky and beautiful colors
Clouds meet the ocean heaven’s light has come down for you to see
Shining upon the sea’s waters so tranquil time stands still
The blue ocean goes on forever into the horizon with no end in sight
Look closely you will find me in the distance
As the sun sets I am still there
I’m beside you on the shore
I know your sad but don’t worry I’m fine
Where I am there is so much more
One day you will know my happiness
I promise we will be together again
Just like the morning sun will rise
I will be there waiting for you
Without The Chase
August 31,2009
Pink to blue, to yellow,
to monstrous purple clouds looming on the horizon;
My horizon, layed out before me.
I step out, look up and it flies away.
You fly away. I jump for you
and I am leaping, bounding,
stretchng beyond my limits into pink and blue,
and pink and blue.
But you're gone.
I settle again, shrug, and look
to the monstrous purple clouds.
I could fly away without the chase,
theres just no desire for me to have it any other way.
I blink, and look up again to purple,
lavender, yellow, clouds of the deepest grey.
Dusk settles.
All of a sudden, I can hear everything.
Crickets, every far off chirp in trees.
I smile as I step back in.
Back into sheltered silence.
poem by Monica O'Connor
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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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As if anchored to my rock
On a rock next to the sea
I see the horizon
where ocean and sky
meets each other
with blue fading into blue.
The waves smash with thundering sound
time after time
and drops of seawater
splash over me
as if she is my mistress
and are stroking me with her long fingers.
It is as if the rock
moves under my feet
the ocean wants
to get me in her arms,
but I stand unmovable
as if anchored to my rock
and nothing can let me slip down from it.
I see the green blue of her water
that is rushing near
with white foam
just before braking
and further on the dark blue
lies like colours of a gleaming eye
and I think: sea into you
I will not climb down
and when a giant wave
brakes over me,
bending my body and sucking with force
I stand unmovable
as if anchored to my rock.
poem by Gert Strydom
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