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memories of my ghost sista

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memories of my ghost sista

Tag Archives: ocean poetry

to: bureau of ocean energy management (boem)

06 Wednesday Jul 2022

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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BOEM, bureau of ocean energy management, H.D., ocean poetry, oil platform, poem, Poetry, Sea Garden, sonnet

You have forsaken oil platforms dotting

the coast. Locals call them eyesores. I call

them a queer Muse. Sadly, they’re bewitching,

ghostly and waiting for the perfect squall

to rift under. Instead, let one live out

its long golden years as a shrine, an art

commune, a haven for all us devout,

seafaring witches. We’ll bring all our hearts

and Craft to this sanctum. Eh? No, listen:

it’s like H.D.’s Sea Garden –– we’ll transform

flotsam into lore. We’ll live without sin

or oil spills. We’ll turn other’s pollution

into the realm of maritime brainstorms

and myth-making. This is how myths begin.

surge

23 Saturday Nov 2019

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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merlin, nereocystis, nine sisters, ocean poetry, pentagram, poem, sea song, sonnet

With sea salt I drew the five-pointed star
and then stepped inside. I too am the heir

of nine sisters and their nine waves. El Mar-
La Mer-El Mar:
they sing it like a prayer

but it’s still conjure. I know the help curled
kelp brings wrapped around my wrist. But unlike

Mer-lin I’ve been exiled from the dreamworld
of this surge. All that which gets pulled, tide-like,

like the moon, have all forgotten my name.
I still think that love can heal the mischief

others have caused here. I still give a damn.
El Mar-La Mer-El Mar: prayer to reclaim

wreckage; prayer that with the sea and enough
of your love I won’t need a pentagram.

NOTES:
El Mar is the Spanish term for the sea and La Mer the French. In the ancient Arthurian legends the wizard Merlin was, “born of the nine sisters of the cold sea, and cast up on the beach by the ninth wave.” There is a type of kelp, Nereocystis, that gets washed ashore on the beaches near where my parents live. It looks like a bull-whip ending in a large bulb with finger-like fronds radiating from it. As a child I’d wrap a bit of the whip-end around my hand and feel the sea pulsing inside.

colony

09 Sunday Sep 2018

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, self-portrait, sonnet

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colony, ocean poetry, poem, Poetry, sacred voyage, sea fever, sonnet, tramp steamer, wayfaring

Your path is in the sea, your path is in the great waters and your footsteps are not known. — from, Psalm 77

Rusty iron ore tramp steamer painted pink
with a great garden of vegetables up

on deck. A tribe of wayfarers, with ink
and love, to sail the steamer, to worship

the waves and all of us in it. Gorgeous
sea-rose, wide mid-ocean. A colony

of cats, of cast-off children, of purpose
other than all this land-locked misery.

Fresh food, fresh water, fresh love; the rhythm
of the voyage slumbers in us. Sea trance

and dream. I want part of this tribal blood
of friends and lovers — in a rust-bottom

pink ship. I want a myth and a romance.
I want a voyage both wild and sacred.

salt flower flush

08 Thursday Jan 2015

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry

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ocean poetry, poem, Point Reyes, salt flower flush

silent wan worn low
tide everything mutters
moans in sediment
long-legged wading
bird stingray leaden-eye
shark kelp ever drifting
drifting drifting then high
tide low-reverberating
ocean all around lethargic
idiot pointed headland
mystic tethered moon
mirror that thralls that
mazes of kelp or trees of
fog in trees tasting of
salt flower flush
change summoning
moon surge longing
is to be everything
longing is to be nothing

low-tide

22 Sunday Sep 2013

Posted by babylon crashing in Poetry, sonnet

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I love the drowned, love, low tide, ocean poetry, poem, Poetry, sonnet

Take me to the unexplored dark once more.
I know all about this pressure. Without
you with me I’ll never get to drift pure
in these deep waters again. Ignore doubt
and the shaking needle of the meter.
I do remember you holding your hands
out to the far surface, your face under
pressure was beautiful. Then failed commands,
screaming, rupture. Once love you kissed my skin,
breathed me in until I filled you. You should
have lived on love instead of air. Hell bound
you could only see yourself escape in
rising sea foam, while the rest of us stood
at our posts, watching you flee as we drowned.

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erotica [links]

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electric mayhem [links]

  • cyndi lauper
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  • Poetic K [myspace]
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  • Severus & the Deatheaters [myspace]
  • clara smith

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