Beach Liaison
Foamy, frothy blue-green silk sea drapes over freckled, speckled skin
A face bare, wet and rough, a complexion bleached by sun, sea, salt
Barren on the surface yet life breathes free in cracks and crannies
Underneath the craggy covering he hides in slender shell
His caramel body is smooth, supple as he slips into the
Spiral sheath to the sharp pointed end of the day when, at tides
Edge, the sea caresses pink coral reef sky as day submits
To darkness, concealing intimate silhouettes of lovers
Embracing among the shadows of sea grapes and dune grasses
At dusky brink between day and night sea birds flit
Kingfishers’ white feathers flutter away from lapping sea tongue
A salty kiss on parched lips and on sandy cheeks communicates
A silent poem song in language like Sanskrit scratched out with
Bird claw quills on sand skin a dry and rough parchment while the small
Kingfisher flock pecks away without wit into gritty flesh
To slurp up his mollusk body like salt-water taffy pulled
Out of its wax paper wrapped up tight but never feeling safe
Sharp pecking beak finds his soft snail soul plucked from firm, corkscrew case
In bird beak swallowed whole he prays: I’ve already been in heaven
Though tragedy sweeps away all that is real and some things imagined
Always in my heart I will carry sunshine and silken sea.
poem by Laura Pariseau
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Related quotes
Exoskeleton
I attempt to molt
My hard exoskeleton,
Exposing the soft
And raw meat of my insides—
Vulnerable flesh of mine.
I crawl for a time
In the unforgiving air
As it bakes my skin.
The light of the sun presses
Me further into the dirt.
The cool and smooth rocks
Rub against me like a rust,
A corroding floor.
I scrape my body along
As a snail would—so slowly.
The gentle salt spray
Curdles me, a foaming lump
Traveling through sand.
Sodium streams stain my prints,
A fossil made of the past.
My back is spineless,
Formless without its firm shell,
Unfit to support.
I flop like a dry fish would
As if deprived of water.
To protect myself,
I callous stone around me:
A coral shelter.
Safe within the walls I've built,
I remain fully contained.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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Lessons from a Woodpecker
The woodpecker will not give up,
Until the hole it planned is made!
It walks upon the trunk upside,
Its clawed feet holding bark firmly!
It pecks and pecks while turning head;
It bangs and drums upon the tree;
It hammers, chisels, saws and files,
The sharp beak digging circularly!
The pecking actions cause echoes
In air surrounding bird on tree;
With great a force, it pecks each time,
But does not mind feeling giddy!
It pecks and pecks as wood chips fly;
The bristly tongue helps it to clear;
The beak keeps hitting edge of hole,
As head of bird, then goes deeper!
It takes a month to make a hole!
The woodpecker will not give up;
It comes back to the hole each day,
And deepens it some more, some way!
The woodpecker has taught me how
Hard labor, perseverance clicks;
And lo! The nest is filled with love,
As noisy cries come from new chicks!
Yes, Mother Nature teaches all,
Such golden lessons for no fee;
Oh, listen to her daily call;
Success will smile on you, may be!
When one has aimed to do something,
Come in the way, don’t let a thing;
Work till the job is fully done;
Nothing in life, you leave half-done!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 1-15-2010
poem by John Celes
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A Kingfisher On A Dead Tree
on a glass pond
a dead tree stands
perched is a kingfisher
on one of its weak twigs
i sit alone on a
rock thinking about nothing
i must have been lost
this day
blue wings and some
white feathers on the neck
black sharp beak
the kingfisher looks at me
a leaf falls on the glass pond
the eyes of the kingfisher
and my eyes ride on the ripple
like small paper boats
going nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beak Kind To Birds!
Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!
poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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Misty Haze
Misty blue haze, rise above the oceans, green waves
Loves seeds, entangle seaweed, washed ashore
Salty waters flow, to carve its sandy caves
Water glistens, loves silhouettes, dare to dance
Cool green waters, foam to white, a gentle seduction
Nature's music fills the air, a pure sweet romance
Suns glow, bodies external heat, passion's exotic blaze
Oceans exquisite temptation, salted lust upon our lips
Love's eyes locked in pleasure, a gentle hypnotic gaze
Body's silken skin, internal heat, together life's entwined
Foamy Waters, heightened sensations, a tantalizing Pleasure
Loves unforgettable passion, scribes a ocean delicate line
soft wind, gentle whispers, kissed away our fear
Nature's lust, loves desire, birds sing, body exotic bliss
Nether can resist, let passion sounded, for all to hear
poem by Daughter Of A Cracked Mind
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Because It Sings....
there is a man inside the cage
but you cannot tell that he is a man
because
by all appearances of it
it has black wings, sharp claws, it is muted
by a beak
it can only sing in syllables
it is wrapped by
shiny feathers
it is a bird, a black bird and by all means
you cannot tell
that it is angry
because it sings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Keys
Broken ivories
playing
the blue piano
of the sea.
We have come
from the bitter city
to heal ourselves.
We have come
looking for a patch of beach
not yet built into a fortress
of real-estate greed,
a coral reef
not yet picked clean
of buried treasure,
not yet bare of birds.
The first night in the Keys,
I dreamed I was a bird
soaring over a hilly city,
soaring & dipping
like a gull or egret.
& I thought:
'Ah- this is a flying dream!
Enjoy it.'
But I really think
that my soul
has been transported
for a night
into the body of
a bird
& I was flying.
I woke up
exhausted,
arms weary,
eyes red.
The beach was dazzling
with its white sand,
the sun blinding,
& I seemed to know the palm trees
from above
as well as below.
They root in the sand
with elephant feet,
yet they also root
their delicate fronds
in air.
& these are a comfort
as you fly
half bird, half human
through a dream of sky.
Everything was new
to a spirit
so divided
between two kingdoms.
The water was alive
with fish,
the air with birds
& palm fronds,
clouds, thunderous presences
of rain
gathering & parting,
& fiery sun playing through.
I knew
that I stood
on a patch of earth
connected to the sky,
that my heart beat
with the sea,
that my arms moved
with the clouds,
that my flesh
was finally irrelevant
though it surrounded me
as the case of a piano
surrounds its strings,
while the fingers play
on the ivory keys
& the human music
rises to the sky.
poem by Erica Jong
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A Way To Live
a little fish rises from the
water to
eat a bubble of
air
from the tree a
kingfisher with an eye
for fish
swiftly dives and
with its sharp long black beak
catches the
little fish
a boy with a rubber sling
aims at the blue kingfisher
hitting it with a
stone crushing its
round head and
sharp long and black beak
to the ground
a ripe coconut falls
from a tree and
hits the head of the
boy below
the lizard that climbs
the coconut tree
looking for brown beetles
at the top
does not notice how
all these events
happen
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Me And The Sea
do not expect me to wear
a G-string when i decide to take my swim
i always go naked.
I like always to feel the sea
all over my body
i plunge myself
and feel the nakedness of the sea
too
it's water all over me
all around me
naked sea to my naked body
you know how it feels
it feels like the way we do it
you are the sea
and i am a body
you are a body
and i am the sea
so simple and yet
what a bliss
naked, deep, blue, watery
wet, slippery, salty,
sweat mixed with the salt of the sea
two naked bodies
feeling
salt, earth, sand, fire
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Driftwood
Pieces of wood intertwined like the bodies of lovers
Smooth edges ridges and curves for me to discover
Entangled branches held together building a new form
Intimate confrontations left behind by a great storm
The wood shows cracks like the wrinkles of skin
Bleached out by salt and sun a piece of art therein
To me my love - you seem like the driftwood I found
You are beautiful and smooth all the way around
Your expressions are throughtful and sad at the same time
My heart you have captured committing a victimless crime
You carry the marks of life and adventure on your face
I would love to drown in your arms within your embrace
Like pieces of driftwood connected by fate together
With you I can withstand life in any kind of weather
I want to become a better me with you forever around
Like the beautiful wood we are for eternity bound
© 2011
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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Water
water for water is water, thirst made me dried
eyes tears flow water, leaves skin broken
need water, cure my pain smooth my rough
surface makes it clean
pure and perfect water made so bright, all the
day expose heat dried my sweat, in my face
and lips tears seen in the eyes
all day long I seat in my brow, waiting the sun
down to lead me low, hunger and thirst open
my throat, water spelled drops like a dew
wash my warm body as you can see, the limps
legs and the hands would be easy, where ever
in my body, the water comes refreshing to me
slowly, slowly, fell the cool water beneath
my delicate skin, in my buttock where you have
to stay, hold on, I sit you in my dream, my living
water makes me the same
oh! water, please always watered me in each
new day and fell the real me
poem by Antonio Liao
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Death's Wings
Death was a bird that night
An ugly, vicious bird
Death's claws scratched at me
But flew away when I didn't bleed.
As it flew, darkness fell
Wings blocking out the moon.
Death screetched in frustration
When it couldn't break my skin
Death was too obvious
And realised.
Death swooped low that night
And caught her by suprise
Not a sound left its beak, nor her mouth
And death was silently satisfied.
To strike again was simple
Death had learnt a new trick.
And so began a time
That death shed its feathers.
poem by Danielle Guscott
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358
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What You Are Saying
you once said
you are unhappy
you live on this hard shell
of a tortoise
and your burden
is such that you cannot
really move freely
as a bird with its wings
you wish the burden
melts into your skin
and it is done
then you say
the skin binds you
and the flesh and bone
are burdens too
you want something
lighter like the feathers
of a free bird
something light and easy
and verily free
and it is done
i am happy to see
you flying in the skies
doing some acrobatics
in space
chirping some melodies
under the trees
diving in the sea
teasing the rivers
and this hovering
on the cows
and today i hear
a different song
a sad song from a bird
by my window
it is you
you want to return
to the hard shell of
the tortoise
you miss the silence
and the privacy
of your hiding
now, you have doubts
what burdens are
what freedom is
and this cannot just
be easily done
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Bird that lives forever
A geless and deathless Paliel vulture
One of African vulture species that
Lives in jonglei region of Sudan
Lives beyond any bird life span
When it bird life span finish
It stops to eat and drink
It plumes plummeted naturally
Until it come skinny
It start to metamorphoses
The beak, the legs grow soft fleshy
The body transform into battled slender creature
The two legs become small soft tails
The two wings become small fins
It gradually become an African youngest cobra
And again goes on living as snake beyond
Any snake lifespan in jonglei region.
When it become old, aile and about to die
It stops to eat and drink
It flake it dry scally-skin off
And become skinny
If fang fallen off
It two fins, tails project wings and legs
It grow plumes and feathers
It gradually grow until it
Become bird and fly up again
Paleil, dodge death by
Oldness in bird to youngness in snake
Oldness in snake to youngness bird
The catchyphrase!
Paleil lives forever in recuryring metamorphosis
poem by David Aoloch Bion
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Untitled 24
outside the window
this early morning
blue clouds hover
on the green hill
like the curly hair
of a little boy
on the guava tree
a twig without leaves
a bird sings
with blue feathers
the kingfisher
below it a pool
of rippled waters
a fish is seducing
its black beak
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Imaginary Lover
Lover, you are not as I imagined
Though your skin like water,
Still flows through me
And the river drinks you in like a kiss
Yet untouched
I have loved you
In nakedness
I have found you
In clothes of flesh and bone
I have found you
Still
Undiscovered
Like a flower whose face upturned to the light
Shuts tight in darkness
I have found you
Wrapped in the bud of your own longing
And after you lover
After the the shining sun bowed to the moon
And the waves fell back into the sea
My soul travelled back to the shore
Without you
Only the shell of you remaining
Upturned in the sand
yvette smith dec 08
poem by Yvette Smith
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The Birds Chattering Inside Your Mouth...
the birds in your mouth
chatter, one bird has blue feathers
and it makes the sweetest song,
the white bird keeps mum over
all these caged noise,
perhaps it understands the language
of the soul,
there is a brick red sparrow
looking out the window
it is speaking in tongues
as i listen attentively and watch all these
within the fences of your face
i feel, but i have to be honest
there is nothing that i understand,
i do not wish to
i have had enough, of those blue, red,
and white birds.
but they must all agree that it is not the song
not their songs, but their
common cage, for not one of them
has uttered the nicest word in the
history of captives,
freedom.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Flying Away?
i like to see the image of a lone bird flying away from me
two steady wings carrying a very light body of blue feathers
a kingfisher flying away against the morning sun
moving nowhere getting farther until it becomes a blue dot
dissolving in the distance that your eyes can no longer see
i sometimes like to think i am that bird flying away
from where i am
because this place is sad and cruel
i like to fly away
to leave everything behind me and then simply forget
and make new beginnings
as easy as that
sometimes however i ask myself:
where shall i go?
nowhere?
just nowhere?
where is nowhere?
just fly away and go
and leave and
then what?
i ask myself these real questions
calling for rational answers
begging
that i be reasonable enough with my life
and the life of others
who also depend
on me
it is not an easy stuff,
just flying away to nowhere and destruct
everything i build here:
a nest, an odor of familiarity,
a sense of home
(though sad and cruel)
a name for myself
a reputation
a family history
an ancestral domain
shall i go then and be foolish?
i am not a bird, i am a man
that is a very serious existence apart from those feathery wishes and dreams
with responsibilities, i have no wings just arms, i have no feathers
but this body
i am not just a bird, i have a soul
and so i decided to stay
with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tell Me
Tell me, tell me, tell me what hides behind my skin—
Like whatever's in a window when you're in a room
Watching the curtains flutter in the wind.
Tell me how the weather is
When you're looking outside to somewhere open
With cloudless skies and blue space covering.
Tell me if it's warm where you come from
Or where my thoughts of you come from,
And tell me if the sun drapes over the horizon
And deep into the orange, dusted canyons.
Tell me if there is something
Like a garden, blooming with the spring
Of my youth, next to something sort of like an ocean,
Or something relaxing, with the waves parting,
And something I like, though I don't know what that is.
Tell me about the white nowhere
That percolates through my pores and from my dreams,
And between the no language of tongue speak,
And blank canvases and whatever I wondered
Would remind me of you.
poem by Tim Stensloff
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