Yin And Yang
the tall cliffs
and the rough stones
and boulders
by the sea
the males
the waves bashing
and dashing
with tongues licking
the bodies of stone
and rising cliffs
towards the skies
the females
yin and yang
in nature.
the feet that the sea licks
the waves as tongues
and the tall cliffs as
symbols
the phallus and the tongue
the rocks and the waves
male and female
and then the outbursts of morning light
spilling
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Impassive Resistance.
I've seen the power of the sea
When it's attacking savagely.
The basalt cliffs which bar its path.
Which are contemptuous of its wrath.
The basalt cliffs resist the sea.
Though it attacks them ceaselessly
As long as these proud cliffs still stand.
The sea cannot invade the land.
The cliffs are rooted solidly.
A bulwark and a boundary.
The angry waves are powerless
against the might of this fortress
Which has endured for centuries
And still they stand triumphantly.
Saturday,23 June 2012
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Impenetrable
The bleak black basalt cliffs which form.
A barrier to Atlantic storms
Which sweep in from the open sea.
Are not a place I'd choose to be
When winter storms are at their height
and batter them without respite.
The basalt rocks are obdurate
They stubbornly accept their fate
Although the storms may rage and roar
The cliffs have seen it all before.
Wind driven waves have small effect.
On basalt cliffs which still protect.
Old Ireland from the angry sea.
they do their duty faithfully.
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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The Cliffs
They sing of the grandeur of cliffs inland,
But the cliffs of the ocean are truly grand;
And I long to wander and dream and doubt
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out and out.
To the northward far as the eye can reach
Are sandhill, boulder, and sandy beach;
But southward rises the track for me,
Where the cliffs by the ocean run out to sea.
Friends may be gone in the morning fair,
But the cliffs by the ocean are always there;
Lovers may leave when the wind is chill,
But the cliffs by the ocean are steadfast still.
They watch the sea and they ward the land,
And they warn the ships from the treacherous sand;
And I sadly think in the twilight hour
What I might have been had I known my power.
Where the smoke-cloud blurs and the white sails fill,
They point the ships to keep seaward still;
And I think—Ah, me!—and I think—Ah, me!
Of the wreck I’d saved had I kept to sea.
Oh! the cliffs are old and the cliffs are sad,
And they know me sane, while men deem me mad.
Oh! the cliffs are firm and the cliffs are strong,
And they know me right, while men deem me wrong.
And I sometimes think in the dawning gray,
I am old as they, I am old as they;
And I think, I think that in field and town
My spirit shall live till the cliffs come down.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Old Ocean
Old Ocean
They break up big boulders, near the houses where I live,
what I see used to be the bottom of an old ocean.
The stones break easily, pieces glitter as crystal in the sun.
I pick up a splinter, lick it and can taste the cool, clear sea.
My inner ear picks up the sea’s ripples on the strand, but
also, the contented hum of an ocean alone. I also hear its
ire as waves upon waves, futilely, crashes on to jagged
cliffs of perpetuity. Overcome by awe I’ve tasted eternity,
It’s salty; and if you get too obsessed about it, can give you
fatally high blood pressure.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Lighthouse
The ravaging winds, swirling and twirling;
Like a ballet dancer in perfect rotations;
Capturing my steadfast site of vision;
As I stare agape at the forceful thrusts of the wind gods;
As they cause havoc of the passing waves;
The ship tilting to and fro; top to bottom;
As the waves rap the flimsy deck boards;
As the thunder strikes the august mast;
That stands strong amidst the drifts and the currents, of the winds and water;
A catastrophe unfolding in the ravenous seas................
Then, from the forgotten corners of the rugged mountains;
An angel intervenes, to carry your ship to the eye of the storm;
A light from over yonder, over the cliffs, over the monumental tide;
Standing tall in her sun-parched white, holding her gaze on my path
As the ship rocks and drifts on the unforgiving seabed;
To a destiny that gazes at you with a stubborn heart;
Sometime, love discovers you in the turbulence of life;
When the winds are rampant and the oceans voracious;
Finally, the ship drifts ashore as you rush past the stuttering cliffs, to her
My lighthouse in her immovable gaze.
poem by Dilantha Gunawardana
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The River of Me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
That Cheyenne Bodie was ten feet tall
His voice so deep it filled a hall
And that was who I dreamed I’d be
Until Cochise came on the scene
There was ice on the river and ice on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
The fields were full of cows, corn or wheat
The air was thick with bees and heat
The summer lasted all year long
I never knew til it was gone
And then of course came that high school girl
Her glances made my river swirl
More complex than the universe
I never knew what she’d do next
There was light on the river and light on the pond
And the singing nun sang on and on
There were trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And fish galore in the river of me
And up we soared towards the sky
Through songs and dancing by and by
My waterfalls and waves ran high
For just the winking of an eye
And in the distance the quiet sea
was waiting on the river me
And on the banks the weeds grew tall
Where rusting leaves began to fall
Now there’s night on the river and night on the pond
And the singing nun is long since gone
There are trees on the river bank, cliffs by the sea
And memories in the river of me
I launched myself on the river me
Way back when I was two or three
I sailed out through the wall of snow
Beneath the bridge where all kids go
And Then I Begin To Understand
what stones are
their missions
and then i begin to relate
with cliffs
and sands and shorelines
and waves and
deep oceans
and then i know what that image is
a boat in the middle of the sea
tossed by a storm
with nowhere to land
and then i know
who i am.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Sea Loving People
The true sea loving people never live far from the sea
They pine if the ocean they can't hear or see
The feel of the sea spray where the wild breakers roar
Where huge waves pound the stony cliffs overlooking the shore.
They can only live near to where the surf waves roll
And to them the breath of the sea air is good for the soul
In towns by the ocean they grow old and gray
From salt-water they could not live far away.
The sea loving people enjoy the coastal sunshine
Inland from the ocean they surely would pine
To live two miles from the ocean for them does seem far
Though in distance that only a short drive by car.
The sea loving people love the rumble of the big surf waves
In cemetery close to the cliffs are their ancestors graves
They would pine if they could not hear the sea breakers roar
They only could live in towns near the Sea-shore.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Our Thatched House
Our thatched house perched where the sea meets,
Our love mends as the sea melts and scalds the heated skin.
Dew gathers clarity, then it thaws, like the sea of tranquillity,
Cliffs are our sanctuary, melting the rocks into the sea.
Waves wield as pines hurt, sea waves smother the rain,
Our thatched house is delighted in its Way,
The path of discovery and enlightenment,
Tossed boats work with anchors here, chained to the sea and land.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Stonegarden
And the dreamer sets his sails...
Avoiding all cliffs and stones
But the dreamer is never alone
Always trying to catch the moon
Sailing on the winds of desolation
Horizon's my destination
Through tears I see that
the moon slowly sets
And another attempt has failed...
The waves of the sea drawn to the moon
Like lovers they meet
Carry the light to a distant unknown
Catch it if you can
Always will there be the stars
Always will there be the moon
Always will there be the rocks
Will I always be alone?
song performed by by The Gathering from Always
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The sea by night
The sea at night is not calm,
The scudding foaming waves sound the alarm
The savage winds abrasive, feverishly court the waves
Rejected, they continue upon the surf into the rocky caves
The night-high tide solemn, rakes upon the stony shore;
Along the rugged cliffs and chalky ivory caves
Mourns the hoarse ocean, suffocating seeming to deplore
All that are buried in his restless agitated craves
Into the mined by corrosive tides, of the hollow rock
The waves rushed climbing, rushing to its turf height,
Falling back to relentless shakes with long-resounding shock,
Loud dire thundering on the ear of sullen dreadful night;
Again and again in relentless endless train of unearthly attire
Like long swaying tongues of consuming fire
The waves bounce hitting the fall prone rock
There once upon its peak thrived a nest of a family duck
Above the desolate and stormy deep unrest,
Gleams the wan moon, in gloom by floating mist depprest;
The light towers on vexed shore stand wrapped in blanket of foam
The sea is not quite, the sun is shy reclusive at the bells of dawn
Where is Nature's nurture and calming soft nurse
By wrath or by rage Nature lend us its curse
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Sand In The Sea
from afar i see the waves
myriad lines of luminous white
galloping as if on a mission to conquer
propelling successive waves
in another sea of emotions
blessed's the endowed artist
who can transfer this gallant spirit
onto canvas with shinning and crowning hues
so many morns, the waves alone
drive in the days into me, blast tribulations,
even stones and rocks
pounding into the mind and soul
that after a million years
they would be nothing more than sand
under triumphant sounding waves
and - our humble feet
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Ocean
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 sea is mad my love
Its known to drive men crazy
Malcolm has burned at sea, the castle it sits and reeks
The madness can make you hazy
But here come the waves
Down by the shore
Washing the rocks that have been here
Centuries or more
Down by the sea
Here come the ocean
And the waves down by the sea
Here comes the ocean
And the waves where have they been
Castles glowing at night, towers above out fright
Warlocks decapitating
Malcolm he lives on hate, serve your brain on a plate
Feasts on your mouth for dinner
But here come the waves
Down by the sea
Washing the eyes of the men
Who have died
Down by the sea
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
Here come the waves
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Large Bad Picture
Remembering the Strait of Belle Isle or
some northerly harbor of Labrador,
before he became a schoolteacher
a great-uncle painted a big picture.
Receding for miles on either side
into a flushed, still sky
are overhanging pale blue cliffs
hundreds of feet high,
their bases fretted by little arches,
the entrances to caves
running in along the level of a bay
masked by perfect waves.
On the middle of that quiet floor
sits a fleet of small black ships,
square-rigged, sails furled, motionless,
their spars like burnt match-sticks.
And high above them, over the tall cliffs'
semi-translucent ranks,
are scribbled hundreds of fine black birds
hanging in n's in banks.
One can hear their crying, crying,
the only sound there is
except for occasional sizhine
as a large aquatic animal breathes.
In the pink light
the small red sun goes rolling, rolling,
round and round and round at the same height
in perpetual sunset, comprehensive, consoling,
while the ships consider it.
Apparently they have reached their destination.
It would be hard to say what brought them there,
commerce or contemplation.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Exposed on the cliffs of the heart
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Look, how tiny down there,
look: the last village of words and, higher,
(but how tiny) still one last
farmhouse of feeling. Can you see it?
Exposed on the cliffs of the heart. Stoneground
under your hands. Even here, though,
something can bloom; on a silent cliff-edge
an unknowing plant blooms, singing, into the air.
But the one who knows? Ah, he began to know
and is quiet now, exposed on the cliffs of the heart.
While, with their full awareness,
many sure-footed mountain animals pass
or linger. And the great sheltered birds flies, slowly
circling, around the peak's pure denial. - But
without a shelter, here on the cliffs of the heart...
poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Waves Of Fear
Waves of fear, attack in the night
Waves if revulsion, sickening sights
My hearts nearly bursting, my chests choking tight
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, squat on the floor
Looking for some pill, the liquor is gone
Blood trips from my nose, I can barely breathe
Waves of fear, Im too scared to leave
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Im too afraid to use the phone
Im too afraid to put the light on
Im so afraid Ive lost control
Im suffocating without a word
Crazy with sweat, spittle on my jaw
Whats that funny noise, whats that on the floor
Waves of fear, pulsing with death
I curse my tremors, I jump at my own step
I cringe at my terror, I hate my own smell
I know where I must be, I must be in hell
Waves of fear, waves of fear
Waves of fear, waves of fear
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Delightful Sea
Abruptly the sea debates with waves of delight,
What conquers ablution of this abysmal tree of water?
My abbey is the very original glee I partake,
Many gods have faces that linger and mingle in the sea.
This sea hastens fallaciously, worming cliffs and rocks,
The fallible ocean considers its feed, after too much light.
The sun has stars in front, but the sea escapes the dark
Of the darkness that is wet, falsity is our falcon of life.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Gray Cliffs And Gray Skies
on a foundation of
giant boulders of rocks
in the desert
of Saudi Arabia
where the grass are
resilient to
heat and change
the gray cliffs rise to touch
the gray skies
as though
they are on a conference
for something bigger
than the giant rocks below
and higher than the
heights they have achieved
something must be so
important
like the need for rain
and seeds
and men and women
with thick callous hands
to work for them
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Wreck Of The `Derry Castle
Day of ending for beginnings!
Ocean hath another innings,
Ocean hath another score;
And the surges sing his winnings,
And the surges shout his winnings,
And the surges shriek his winnings,
All along the sullen shore.
Sing another dirge in wailing,
For another vessel sailing
With the shadow-ships at sea;
Shadow-ships for ever sinking --
Shadow-ships whose pumps are clinking,
And whose thirsty holds are drinking
Pledges to Eternity.
Pray for souls of ghastly, sodden
Corpses, floating round untrodden
Cliffs, where nought but sea-drift strays;
Souls of dead men, in whose faces
Of humanity no trace is --
Not a mark to show their races --
Floating round for days and days.
. . . . .
Ocean's salty tongues are licking
Round the faces of the drowned,
And a cruel blade seems sticking
Through my heart and turning round.
Heaven! shall HIS ghastly, sodden
Corpse float round for days and days?
Shall it dash 'neath cliffs untrodden,
Rocks where nought but sea-drift strays?
God in heaven! hide the floating,
Falling, rising, face from me;
God in heaven! stay the gloating,
Mocking singing of the sea!
poem by Henry Lawson
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A WayFarer
The cliffs are the edges of paper--
That time has torn away...
Eroded rock-solid paper...
Jagged reminders of yesterday;
Once a diary of stone-hearted entries--
Surfaced as hardened clay...
But worn away from the Springtime downpours...
And collapsed in Wayfarers Bay;
Pages and pages of dogeared cliffs...
Hanging with no support in mid air...
Rock solid words of our ending---
Oh, the stories the sailors do bear;
Longings from eternities upon the ocean...
Needs that we all have been known to share...
Are written upon the cliffs of yesterday---
Eroded in rock solid despair;
The Essence
July,2010
poem by Theodora Onken
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