The Island
true the island looks like a crocodile
a protruding mouth
sharp teeth and a very long tail
but at the end be amazed
the women there are tall and white and so free
like the wind and the breeze and the waves
surging on the laps of the shore
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
From Gordon’s bay harbour
From Gordon’s bay harbour
we took a boat
along the coast
of False Bay
and your fingers
knotted through mine
while we sailed
into the ocean.
The launch went up and down
the waves of a calm sea
although a light breeze
was blowing, throwing
drops of spray
into our faces.
Your cheeks were glowing
and your eyes
had the look of adventure
and anticipation
and we took several photographs
of the scenic mountains,
the beaches and shore.
We stopped sailing
at a island of rock
protruding from the waves
that was covered with seals,
which they called Cape sea lions.
The stench of seal dung
and rotting fish
hang heavy in the air
and the boat was rolling to and fro
as well as up and down
and you and some
of the other passengers
got really seasick
and very nauseous.
I took some more photos
trying to ignore the stench
and photographed seals,
waves braking over the rocks,
and everything
but the sea around us.
Those seals had their eyes open
unlike us
for predators like sharks
and shrieking as a saw
going through a board
while more got on those rocks
and sharks started to circle
that island and the boat
and we also felt
like something in the food chain
and were relieved
when the boat’s engine
started again
at the first try.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Suppressed Anger
it is as if the belly of a woman
is pregnant with a very long snake
and slowly it exits its way
through the esophagus
but you cannot see it first
because the teeth is still gritting
and the mouth is still closed
but on the spur of the moment
when restraint gives way
the mouth suddenly opens
the teeth stops gritting
and the head of that very long snake
comes out
showing its sharp fang
and suddenly
without any talk
bites the object of its
affection.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In The Fashion
A lion has a tail and a very fine tail
And so has an elephant and so has a whale,
And so has a crocodile, and so has a quail-
They’ve all got tails but me.
If I had sixpence I would buy one;
I’d say to the shopman, ‘Let me try one’;
I’d say to the elephant, ‘This is my one.’
They’d all come round to see.
Then I’d say to the lion, ‘Why, you’ve got a tail!
And so has the elephant, and so has the whale!
And, look! There’s a crocodile! He’s got a
tail !
You’ve all got tails like me!’
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Tails
A lion has a tail and a very fine tail,
And so has an elephant, and so has a whale,
And so has a crocodile, and so has a quail–
They’ve all got tails but me.
If I had sixpence I would buy one;
I’d say to the shopman, ‘Let me try one’;
I’d say to the elephant, ‘This is my one.’
They’d all come round to see.
Then I’d say to the lion, ‘Why, you’ve got a tail!
And so has the elephant, and so has the whale!
And, look! There’s a crocodile! He’s got a tail!
You’ve all got tails like me!’
poem by Alan Alexander Milne
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Surf's Up Tonight On Magic Island
We walk along the distant shoreline
The waves crash upon the shore
The palm trees sway in the breeze
Leaving the magic of the night in the air for the both of us
The waves are just right
So let's grab our boards
Hit the sea
And grab a wave tonight
Surf's up tonight on Magic Island
And we'll smile and laugh
Like we have not a care in the world
We'll just ride the waves
And hope for this time between you and I to be saved
poem by Justin Gildow
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Portrait of a Lady
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
where Watteau hung a lady's
slipper. Your knees
are a southern breeze -- or
a gust of snow. Agh! what
sort of man was Fragonard?
-- As if that answered
anything. -- Ah, yes. Below
the knees, since the tune
drops that way, it is
one of those white summer days,
the tall grass of your ankles
flickers upon the shore --
Which shore? --
the sand clings to my lips --
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
-- the petals from some hidden
appletree -- Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.
poem by William Carlos Williams
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The Ocean
1969 live version
--------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the shore
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Earth is a hollow hair bought of a bigger head
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things down
...(unknown)
But here comes the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land
That has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the shore
Here comes the ocean and the waves
Down by the sea
(incense or in sex or insects) for evil thoughts, thought of by selfish men
It nearly drives me crazy
I am a lazy son
I never get things done
...(unknown)
Here comes the waves down by the shore
Washing the eye of the land that has been down by the sea
Down by the sea
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Peel slowly and see version
---------------------------------------------
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves
Where have they been?
Silver and black with night
Heres to a summers night
An empty splendid castle
Glowering alone at night
The princess has had a fright
Madness seeks out the lover
And here come the waves down by the shore
Washing the soul of the body
That comes from the depths of the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves, where have they been
Dont swim tonight my love
The tide is out my love
Malcoms curse haunts our family
Oh yes, loud in which, ruler of filthy seas, revelling heavans justice
And here come the waves
And save for a scream
Theres much like a song
To be heard, in the wind, that blows by the sea.
Like the wind
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves,
Here come the waves
song performed by by Velvet Underground
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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R. M. a revelation
when he opens up
the world closes in on him
the headman closed the window
the woman with the white long gown
closes the door
they will change his name
the one that fits his revelation of who he really is
then he moves on
to a new life
this now he is as brave as a lion
carrying the truth of his sharp teeth
his strong legs and claws
make the great leap
from one cliff to the other
below him the abyss
between him
the invisible bridge of his connection
to the the truth long hidden
he is silent now
but free
his solitude becomes a tree with long leaves
full of flowers are the branches
now the butterflies like him are free
like a chameleon tired of changing hues
he sticks to the color of the wind
the warmth of the sun
on the lush grasses of the plains
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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SEA-MAD (A Breton Maid)
Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me!
One said:
"Away! he is dead!
Upon my foam I have flung his head!
Go back to your cote, you never shall wed!—
(Nor he!)"
Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me.
Two brake.
The third with a quake
Cried loud, "O maid, I'll find for thy sake
His dead lost body: prepare his wake!"
(And back it plunged to the sea!)
Three waves of the sea came up on the wind to me.
One bore—
And swept on the shore—
His pale, pale face I shall kiss no more!
Ah, woe to women death passes o'er!
(Woe's me!)
poem by Cale Young Rice from Sea Poems (1921)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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On The Shores Of My Island
on the shores of my island
are rocks
and stones with sharp
teeth
do not come
with bare feet
if you can invent wings
try putting them on
i am a friend of birds
and all that
is taking the softness
and blues
of clouds
the breeze puts the music
to my shells
they are all empty
the hermits are dead.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Islands
Earth, stream and tree encircled by sea
Waves sweep the sand from my island.
My sunsets fade.
Field and glade wait only for rain
Grain after grain love erodes my
High weathered walls which fend off the tide
Cradle the wind
To my island.
Gaunt granite climbs where gulls wheel and glide
Mournfully glide oer my island.
My dawn brides veil, damp and pale,
Dissolves in the sun.
Loves web is spun - cats prowl, mice run
Wreathe snatch-hand briars where owls know my eyes
Violet skies
Touch my island,
Touch me.
Beneath the wind turned wave
Infinite peace
Islands join hands
neathe heavens sea.
Dark harbour quays like fingers of stone
Hungrily reach from my island.
Clutch sailors words - pearls and gourds
Are strewn on my shore.
Equal in love, bound in circles.
Earth, stream and tree return to the sea
Waves sweep sand from my island,
From me.
song performed by by King Crimson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Mountshannon October Morning
The stranger sat upon the park bench,
and looked across the Lough.
Smoke from his pipe
blended with the cool morning breeze.
The distant mountains patchwork of green
sat under the hand of dawn’s rolling mist.
The white capped dark waters rolled endlessly against the shore,
nudging the sheltering boats against their moorings,
and washed over shoreline rocks
speckled with lichen and moss.
A pair of swans with their signets sheltered
in the calmer waters of the harbour
away from the white capped waves.
The sun edged its way into the sky,
from behind the sleeping mountains,
spreading red and oranged fingers
to touch the retreating night clouds.
The village adopted ginger cat
made his morning patrol
along the harbour’s sleeping boats,
in a search for breakfast.
The autumn coloured tree leaves,
fluttered in the morning breeze
as the wind and waves rolling
over the shore bound rocks disturbing
the dawning silence.
poem by David Harris
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Lion at the zoo
Golden eyes full of death
stares back at me
and I can almost smell,
the scent of meat
on it’s breath.
One of its paws strikes threatening
while the yellow-brown tail swishes to and thro
and I see a row of deadly nails spiked in it.
It’s ivory white teeth
glitters in the sunlight,
when it opens its jaws.
a Thundering roar close to me
let the hairs on my arms rise
and I see the pink inside of its mouth.
.
It paces up and down
and keeps on watching me and there’s symmetry
in every step that it takes.
When it walks away
I see a black spot at the end of its tail
and it disappears into the long grass.
poem by Gert Strydom
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False Bay (Collins sestet)
(after Matthew Arnold)
Tonight over the sea there are small lights,
Cape Town against Table Mountain lying bright
where it is flat against the evening sky
and in the distance a liner passes by
while the surging spray breaks over False Bay,
forevermore on Africa waves toss and play.
The stream of life did into the sea go
with joy, grace and hope in its ebb and flow
but debris, broken pieces are washed ashore
with pollution caught in the breaking roar
while the surging spray breaks over False Bay,
forevermore on Africa waves toss and play.
Stars sparkle and the light wind furls through your hair
while on the beach we are the only pair
and you swear to be true eternally,
a bright beacon in the darkness we see
while the surging spray breaks over False Bay,
forevermore on Africa waves toss and play.
[Reference: “Dover Beach” by Matthew Arnold.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Outside And Inside...
what is seen outside
is the thick covering
a la crocodile skin at
the Ma-a Park,
the people watch without
anticipating much of
this anger,
the man pokes with a pole
the long mouth
and water splashed
from the big tail
throwing the weight
to as much as
a thousand kilograms
no one imagines
the anger of the imprisoned
ones,
no one.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Dillard Sissman
The buzzards wheel slowly
In wide circles, in a sky
Faintly hazed as from dust from the road.
And a wind sweeps through the pasture where I lie
Beating the grass into long waves.
My kite is above the wind,
Though now and then it wobbles,
Like a man shaking his shoulders;
And the tail streams out momentarily,
Then sinks to rest.
And the buzzards wheel and wheel,
Sweeping the zenith with wide circles
Above my kite. And the hills sleep.
And a farm house, white as snow,
Peeps from green trees -- far away.
And I watch my kite,
For the thin moon will kindle herself ere long,
Then she will swing like a pendulum dial
To the tail of my kite.
A spurt of flame like a water-dragon
Dazzles my eyes --
I am shaken as a banner!
poem by Edgar Lee Masters
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The dark race
With cheeks distinct, lips prominent,
Mouth protruding, one is sexy.
Often dark women are like that.
Yet they’re behind in the market
09.03.2006
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Toad And The Crocodile
“Good morning, ” said Toad, as she rested on a lily pad burping bubbles.
“Good morning, ” said Crocodile, looking disturbed and troubled.
“I don’t suppose, ” said Toad “that you saw two toads pass by this way? ”
“Let me think…” said Crocodile “oh yes, I saw them earlier today.”
A tear rolled down the cheek of the crocodile and splashed into the pond.
“Why are you crying Crocodile, what could’ve possibly gone wrong? ”
“I’m sorry, ” said Crocodile, “I’m an emotional old crocodile and often cry.”
“What a shame, ” said Toad, “you say my husband and daughter passed by? ”
“Oh… I didn’t realise they were your family, they were so nice,
I gave them a helping hand and some very good advice.”
“Thanks for your time and trouble; you’re a very considerate crocodile,
so unlike the ones I’ve heard about that live in the Nile.
Can you remember which direction they went, ” said Toad full of hope.
“I can, ” said Crocodile, “they slid down a very slippery slope.”
“But did they seem alright, I mean did they look safe and well? ”
“Yes they did, but I don’t really know, it was hard to tell.”
“Why do you say that, is there something that you’re not telling me? ”
“I’m sorry you’re quite right, I shouldn’t keep you from your family.
When they asked for help they were being chased by a ferocious lion,
so I suggested that they came aboard and hid until it had gone.”
“Wonderful, so where are they now? ” She said with a puzzled stare.
“Why, they’re having tea with everyone else that’s hiding in there.”
“Would it be possible to speak with them before I burst into tears? ”
“Of course I’ll open my mouth, so you can tell them you’re here.”
She shouted their names, as the crocodile’s mouth opened wider and wider.
“They’re not coming, ” said Crocodile; “they’re enjoying the cakes and cider.”
Toad began to cry, which made her burp louder, as she sadly walked away.
“Where are you going, ” said the crocodile, “your family is not here to stay.
Would you like to come aboard and join in with the others having a good time?
Come on Toad, I’ll open the doors; hurry now before I change my mind.”
Toad cautiously hopped forward and took a giant leap down the crocodiles throat,
she landed in a dark place where she heard noises and two other toads croak.
“Is that you husband” she said, “why didn’t you come out when I shouted you? ”
“The crocodile wouldn’t open the doors, ” he said “what more could I do? ”
“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing we’ve got to try and jump free,
let’s hope we can burp enough to give him wind; come on, on my count of three.”
For ages the toads burped and jumped about trying to fill the crocodile with air,
then a rumbling turned into an eruption and they were burped out of there.
Before the crocodile had noticed the toads were sitting a safe distance away,
“Hello friend crocodile, ” said mother toad, “we’re sorry we couldn’t stay.”
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Stormy Sea
that boat was too small
for this trip to the other island
the ladies sat next to me
and they were all silent
to the sounds of the waves
just beside us and i knew
that with just one mistake,
one mistake from the boatman
that boat would have sunk
but lo, how the boatman took
the boat was kind of a very
skilled skipper of the waves
of the stormy sea like he was one
surfer in California taking sides
with each wave with so much
art and beauty carefully scaling
where safety lied and where
danger waited for an ambush
i was looking at each side
of the huge waves until
we reached Crocodile Island
of course the ladies knew that
it was no longer a joke but
a matter of a skilled boatman
making a choice between
life and death.
we chose life and the ladies and
the boatmen very well knew it.
the waves were too big for the
small boat but our silence was
even bigger. we survived.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Day Before The Tsunami in Phuket 2004
H! That white boy
Skiny, thiny thing
Did god claim him too?
----------
christmas day
i saw the boy
the white boy
skiny, thiny thing
who could only be
two scores of age
smiling so
innocently in phuket
the elders surrounding him
cajoling
i saw a little boy
black plump little thing
barely two, i guess
almost nude, running
carefree, near the sea
close to the waves
and into the waves
looking, discovering
danger, no,
a thousand miles away
i saw a grandad
jumped a few steps
as he ran
a little girl
trailing behind
did the same
a breeze
chilled us
refreshed us
in the splendour
of the setting sun
the rays that dilated
our pupils
so that everything
became so dreamy
in that already
paradisical setting
i saw a mother
her satiated self
sitting on a towel
her dreamed holiday came true
surrounded by teenagers
oh! that warm smile
of love from a mother!
i cried over life
transience too
over mother!
i saw the white men
executives of
some conglormerates
stressing out
a mishmash of tired nerves
pampered by the sea
the cool wind,
the sand,
the Thai women,
their reassuring
and status
confirming
touches and beer
the patong beach
christmas day dusk
endless waves of joy
swept through the souls
the hundreds of foreign souls
the white boy,
the skiny thiny thing
the boy i turned back
to take so many looks
the young child
playing by himself
near the harmless mass of water
and so many others
their last holiday?
the wave of joy now
overtaken by waves
waves, tsunami scale grief
the waves, the relentless waves
that roared
kill, kill, kill
all over the Indian Ocean
Oh! that skiny little white thing
with that lovely smile
those mysterious successive waves
of pain that sweep through me
did god take him too?
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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