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Sea Carneys
Sea carnivals call to me, carnivals
carried by the wandering carney waves
to land and back
around the globe
trading bits of driftwood
seashells and jellyfish
with each other
glittering sunlight hiding surprises
crashing and splashing
driven by the moon and wind
tossing themselves at the world
with foamy glee
breaking up on the shore
tickling the toes of little children
lapping at the sides of pirate ships
always singing the songs of the waves.
They ignore the words of
fearful doldrums
warning words from those
holding tight to every drop
jealously guarding
every grain of salt and sand
warning the waves to come back
warning them to stay away from shores
where they’ll be broken to bits
and have to crawl back into the sea
in pieces becoming
the bagladies and hobos of the deep
scrounging for their lost bits
to recreate themselves.
51
Stay here in the doldrums, they say,
where you’re safe
imprisoned in safety
so that you may live
to fear again.
But a wave, having crashed against a distant shore
doesn’t mind
recreating itself.

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Each time a poet

Puts pen to paper,

There is a sliver of hope

For Peace.

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Peace!

 

 

In her words:
I’m a writer, poet, former teacher and caregiver and an advocate for the power of writing to help improve your life!

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Hope and Illusion, Last Dance

The ghost of
my old lover
hummed a song to me today
at sunrise
memories of Hendrix;
we thought we were
experienced
dancing in the cold cold
streets of Boston
watching the dawn
two sprites dancing
at the bottom of the sea.

I watched the sunrise
alone
and thought of him.
We danced
because we thought
the worst was over
Aquarias was dawning
leaving money-hugging
power love
far away and
long ago
in the time before
in an unmourned past
.

We thought we saw
Quetzalcoatl
flying in from
Eastern skys
bringing peace
and art and flowers
bringing love.

Hope and Illusion
dancing together
watching sunrises
holding hands

Hands make things
hands make everything
hands make our world better or worse
they can make bombs
they can make jelly
they can make jelly bombs
they can make you fat
thin
they can hurt you
and others
they can stroke the hair
from my scalp
and make me feel
special
they can play music
they can write poems

. Old Red Joe	. Portrait.	.. Jazz
. Looking Up	. . Gaia	. Farmer’s Market
. New Mother Bird	. Breakfast	. Counting Crows
. Digs	.	. Pearls

…..the sky is falling…..
there are blue
chunks in my yard
pieces of clouds are
hanging
on the trees
like gossamer
like cotton sheets
blowing in the wind
and if I look really closely
I can see my mother
with clothes pins in her mouth

and she’s hanging these

clouds and she’s

smiling

david michael jackson