ideas that began
as unexpected fragments
scented with harbor light
have blue promise
better than medication
Tag: ocean
now
the moment stood
and faced the sea; we called it
faith-breaker, the hiss
of sand’s what god? where?
we held our freedom in both hands
shook it out: to walk slowly on
wave-wise; to curl in again
with mountain-root song
Thanks and apologies to Kerfe, because I stole from her poem.
Gokstad
A thousand years buried black beneath king’s
mound; ribs, timbers rotting, our ship—
oarsmen long fallen, scattered like their gold
Bread, beer, sword—but never enough gold
in blood-spattered piles, enough to make us kings
so bold and glory-lusting we fitted our ship
shields hung out, oars locked in, then how our ship
sang the waves toward the sun’s own gold—
land ripe for plunder and death to their kings!
All now ghosts: gold, kings, and ship…
Imagination fired by a field trip last weekend to see the Viking ship, sailed from Norway to Chicago in 1893 for the World’s Columbian Exposition and now residing in Geneva, Illinois. Viking was modeled on the 9th-century Gokstad ship, excavated in 1880.
The Remotest Island in the World
To say nothing of myself
or the self-contained teen
in the other room, of our place
in vast, fragile space
dwarfed by our sun, dwarfed
by other suns—
but let me tell you of our life
with penguins and potatoes
our southern seasons lonely
off the grid, yet in the global trend
(internet at the café, supply boats
twice a year). We’ve embraced
a taste for our own vodka
for homespun wool. No avoiding
your neighbor at the seaside
or singing below the volcano
though indeed no one knows
how I detest eating lobster
I read this article about Tristan da Cunha, and my imagination ran away just a bit.
When Suitcases Fail
I had those years of baggage
packed all away, closed
my heart, turned off
the light, blindly chose
first flight to a desert island
Anticipating wave-song
canvases of stars
the only dissonance distant
in shriek of unseen birds
Now I can’t regret
those sunny dresses
cute hats cast wordless
and strewn over empty blue
under sea-sky
all
silver
no plans no
memory we live
on what washes ashore
on wind and cloud-change
under sea-sky limits dissolve
bluegraygreen we forget
no reason no
division we live
lumpedandtumbled
alike smooth placid
pebbles
all
Jane’s weekly challenge #31 gives us a sparkling beach photo and a selection of atmospheric words.
ocean trench
safely held under
fishing for dark life to hold
in freezing cold find
thoughts miles below the surface
swaying to unknown currents
Unzipped Triolet
If I could just unzip the gray
to find blue seas behind that wall
and perch there, wondering, not afraid—
If I could just unzip the gray,
dive clean in sunlit blue-salt waves,
no fear of drowning heart-hard, small—
If I could just unzip the gray
to find blue seas behind that wall.
Inspired by Margo Roby’s picture prompt, with thanks to Jane for bringing the triolet to my attention.
Wreckers
Tonight I have lost my fire
and you ask me to sail—
moment’s notice—into deep
places of heart, hand; deep
enough to touch coal, fire
it as beacon (and I sail
without compass or map, sail
faith-blind, groundless, in deep
starless winter night, no fire
but soul-fire, sail-blazed, plunder-deep).
A tritina, for Rowan.
Finding Atlantis
could be like that
and what are my musings
mere comfort or beauty
when only once in ages
the waters recede
and it is there: strong, entire
drought’s child and ancestor
have I skimmed over
this power for years, fragile-
boated, unaware?
Thanks to Colossal for this appealing story of a submerged/emerging church in Mexico.