#poems about the sea

[maryhall]

candlelight flickers in the dark

and i do not know who i am

the space between the bed and the wall

stretches as an abyss or watery grave

that laps at the legs of my bed

its dark consumes discarded blankets

drags them down like my own self

but still i wonder who i am

my true self lays at the very bottom

of the ocean with the whale fall

where marine snow falls lightly

onto the heads of little crabs

and larger ones eat them

until my body is nothing but bones

let me remain in this bed

[word-stained-hands]

the water crashes into the shore

explodes in white

soft like the icing on a grandma’s cake

whipped egg white

this one tastes of salt

not sugar

there is nothing sweet about the sea.

except

down

down

down

down

down

on the sunlit sandy seafloor

the nascence of life

a shiny pearl in an oyster's womb.

seasalt & pearls, 8/2/23

[khickuwa]

you and the sea; and beauty is within the eye of the beholder.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Frederick Judd Waugh (American, 1861–1940), "The Great Deep", 1909

* * * *

This world is just a little place, just the red in the sky, before the sun rises, so let us keep fast hold of hands, that when the birds begin, none of us be missing.

— Emily Dickinson

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

i want

sometimes, you just want something so hard you have to lie about it, so you can hold it in your mouth for a minute

most days i want to live

to experience

how real hunger has a real taste

most days the garden‘s almost enough.

your vulnerability

little pink flowers

on the sage, even though

the man said we couldnt‘t eat it. not this kind.

and i said,

then, gosh, what‘s the point?

not all days. but most days i do

but

i don‘t want

to be vulnerable

in a field i am the absence of field.

this is always the case.

wherever i am

i am what is missing

do you love me enough that i may be

vulnerability is courage in you and inadequacy in me

weak

with you? do you love me

i‘m drawn

stripped of everything

to your vulnerability but

that might be lost, for only

the things i will

have

repelled by mine

for ever?

Dancing Greatly, Brené Brown | 《山河令》 Word of Honor (2021) | Lies About Sea Creatures, Ada Limón | Most Days I Want To Live, Gabrielle Calvocoressi | Keeping Things Whole, Mark Strand | Essays In Love, Alain de Botton

companion piece to this

[cyberr-v0id]

Too many people relate the ocean to sunshine and summer and relaxation and… that’s just not it.

I mean no hate if that’s what it means to you, and maybe it’s the fact that I AM an ocean child, my family is from the sea and we came to this country across it, but I can just never relate the ocean to an ice cream and a pool floatie.

To me the ocean is wild. It is danger. It is freedom. It is tasting the edge and knowing that not everyone can come back from it. It is swimming as far out the bay as you can when you’re twelve because you’re just so enchanted by the water and what it promises, only to realise that you’ve drifted far from where your family was. It is promises and secrets and treasure. It is alluring, a siren in the back of my mind, calling to me. It is hooked deep into who I am and I know that I can never come back from that.

The ocean is restless and she cares for no one any more than she has to. She would willingly drag me down ti her depths and never let me go, and that just makes me love her more. The ocean is in my heart.

The ocean, the sea, the waves that crash on the rocks in the storm, that rush up up up over the sand banks and into the town. That isn’t a being that is intrinsically tied to sunlight and fruit and sun tans.

Have you never stood on the cliffs, or the end of the pier, and felt the waves crashing below and the salt spray fly onto your face? Have you never felt the tug of a current, or stayed on the shore even as the tide comes up to your legs, then up to the harbour wall? Have you never stepped into her fierce embrace and wished to never leave?

The ocean is restless, yes, and wild, and dangerous. She will be tamed by nobody.

[love-nlove]

from the bottom of my heart

and i hope that when

you sit to eat your Suhoor

begin to prepare your iftar

and get ready to pray your Taraweeh

and wonder what to do for Eid

that you remember.

Remember.

the People of Palestine

won't get that.

don't get that.

the children, lose their voices, cry

the mothers wail

the fathers grieve

and you still believe

that israel,

with its terrorist forces, occupation forces, forces.

its killing regime

deserves to "be free"?

and when people bringing food

for the People of

Palestine

my dear people

starving

and dying over crying

for food

the aid workers.

are killed

you still believe

that the israel

that is doing this

strategically,

violently

inhumanely

deserves to "be free"?

open your eyes.

what is the point

of the internet

and media

if you do not open your eyes

and see

all the evidence.

all the proof

that gives

the people of

Palestine

their innocence.

they still smile

because that

is all they have left

of resistance

from the bottom of my heart

i will always

scream

i will always

say

Free

Free

Palestine

From the River

to the Sea

Palestine

will Be Free

From Masjid Al Aqsa

to the ends of Gaza

from the West Bank

to the stolen lands, soon to be free

Palestine will

Be Free

always

[x-heesy]

𝙷𝚎𝚢

𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎?

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕?

𝙸

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚐𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎, 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎

𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎?

𝚈𝚘𝚞

𝙷𝚘𝚕𝚍 𝚖𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚌𝚛𝚢

𝚈𝚘𝚞

𝙲𝚊𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎?

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠

𝙽𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚜 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚕𝚒𝚏𝚎

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠?

𝙸𝚝 𝚒𝚜

𝚂𝚘 𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝚂𝚘, 𝚍𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝙳𝚘𝚗’𝚝 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚜𝚎

𝙱𝚎𝚌𝚊𝚞𝚜𝚎 𝙸

𝚆𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚢𝚘𝚞

𝙲𝚕𝚘𝚜𝚎

𝚃𝚘 𝚖𝚎

𝙸 𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚎

𝚆𝚑𝚘 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚜

𝙸𝚝’𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝙸 𝚌𝚊𝚗 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎

𝚅𝚒𝚊

𝙵𝚒𝚛𝚎 - 𝙾𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝙼𝚒𝚡 𝚋𝚢 𝙽𝚒𝚗𝚊 𝙺𝚛𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚣 𝚘𝚗 𝚈𝚘𝚞𝚃𝚞𝚋𝚎

@dakota-283 🩵

[incomingalbatross]

Classifications

(formed on the basis of scientific study and highly objective criteria of course)

Odysseus: Homer's guy (polytropos, trickster-warrior-king, really really wants to get home)

Ulysses: Virgil's guy (every Trojan in unison: booooo), also Dante's guy and that of people copying Dante (adventurer, wanderlust and desire for knowledge)

Ody: Jorge Rivera-Herrans's guy (guilt complex, morals broken by the world, also really really wants to get home)

Ulysses, italicized: Not actually a guy (whatever James Joyce was doing idk I'm not a modernist)

[star-critter]

Even the most tame of dogs are

threatened

manipulated

tortured

abused

neglected

and whether they like it or not....

Those "tame dogs" WILL go back to their wild roots

[justexistingsomewhere]

In honor of the global strike today I made a poem. Remember! Don’t stop talking about Palestine! Whatever you do helps! Spread the word to your friends, families, through posts! Donate if you can! Call representatives! And don’t forget your daily clicks! Free Palestine!!! 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

[maryhall]

in the inky abyss

lives a glowing octopus

she shines sky-blue

despite being so deep

see her stomach

in her glass head

she floats with the current

wherever it takes her next

[achillesbeloathed]

Ithaca / C.P. Cavafy / 1911

[saints-who-never-existed]

Sea Fever

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by; And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking, And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied; And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying, And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life, To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife; And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover, And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

- John Masefield

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Her Room :: Andrew Wyeth

* * * *

The Shell

The sea fills my ear with sand and with fear.

“You may wash out the sand, but never the sound of the ghost of the sea that is haunting me.”

Ted Hughes,

The Mermaid's Purse: Poems by Ted Hughes

[naivesilver]

18 or 36 + lampwick?

Time to pull the BIG self indulgent guns out!

Spotify Wrapped Game

36. Il Signore Di Baux, Angelo Branduardi