A source of great strength
A true friend who never betrays
The sleep that nourishes wisdom
More powerful than proving a point
It is golden
A sanctuary for the soul or
An ultimate weapon of power
Whether embraced or imposed
May your silence be filled with bird song and laughter
By this, if a weapon, may it lose its power.
Salty fingers sift tentatively
Crushed homes of crustaceans and invertebrates - bones
Glitter flickers in morning sun tricking me
Finally, a complete curl
Nestles in the cusp
Of my palm, cold water wrinkles.
So too, are you.
A prize worth waiting for
Admired amidst the mire of days and loves lost.
So too, nestled
In the cracks and lines
Of memories that ignite
The heart's flame
On cold midwinter night
Only one space
Big enough to hold
Love I never gave
Into your arms
Wanderlust
Takes me to wildest corners
Of intricate landsape
Innumerable explosions
Of spores, gills
Parasols of dew
They do not mind
How many they number
Two or thirty
The more the merrier
Shared essence of being
Though less gregarious
We humans seem
Thrumming of rain
In the morning
Steel roof
Orange lit sky
Bursts at dusk
Mountain shadow
Cadence of breath
Skip of steps
Sand and waves
Key of a song
Tells the tale
Of love's bond
How wholesome, it was said
We did meet by river bed
Rock pools swirling
Dreaming of past lives at sea.
Our shared love of its creatures
A saltwater one, like me.
Stories of islands, voyages, cabin mates amd treasures found in giant clam shells.
Obsessions with tropical rainforests laden with a kaleidescope of butterflies.
Photographs in our minds of oceans, still as a pool with only the splash of flying fish disturbing the miniscus of brightly lit surface at sunset.
Within weeks, the cracks show
The lives of loves lost at sea a favourite sea shanty
Mine like sleeping volcanoes dotting the edges of tectonic plates all over the Pacific. Yet, their mere breath a flourishing of life, feeding schools of every species ocean wide.
The great diversity of my mind.
I did not lose my skin nor dignity, though sailing too close to the wind.
To one solo creature I hold dear, the ocean many leagues deep knows how far apart love and envy are.
Fair winds and following seas.
In the North
On this day
A million Painted Ladies
Drifted on highways
Of warm s'easterlies
Descended upon wild ancient
Lands remembered
To cocoon, feast and rise once again.
Artistic impressions of papillons
Adorn my door, socks, scarf
My eyes have never gazed upon
Such species near or far.
Do they dwindle and fade,
Will glossy scales fall?
Inevitably, yes
In a day.
How perfect that nature's most subtle beauty
Would feast on loathesome thistle, so thoroughly
To cause a whole crop to fail.
As I nestle in seasons of woven tales from near and far
Aran Islands to Chile
I, too, weave a cocoon
Each to each stitch laid bare, thoughts of places
I've never seen
Near and far -
Some I'd never dare
For slowly, I too, will lose the gloss of youth.
Not before I, and many more
Ravenously erode the fields
of prickly weed
For, come spring -
Who knows what I might be.
Poem inspired by the film, Wilding, 2025.
Forces of deep
All it keeps
Eventually
Rises up
Daily trifles flutter
Fall as the breeze
Tensions ease
Further away you go
Will I set it free?
To wander monsoon streets
Slip into fever dreams
Strap to airplane seats
Will I loosen from its nest
Inside of me?
To fly above swirling schools
Of fish perused
By cephalopods and seals?
Do I secure it soundly within
Cabin walls to sway
In tempestuous swells
Safely in your arms?
Do I unleash this love of mine
Deep-seated divine
Nestled in safe hands
Across unending oceans?
Holding untethered body
In its wake.
Forever residing in waves
That which joins all lands
Far and wide
Joints, muscles and sinew
Within us too.
