My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: Ocean

Swim In Your Words

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Driftwood

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The Oceans Tongue | Santa Cruz, CA

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Paddle past the breakers—

The sound of each
Wave hitting the reef
Cracks, sending mist and
Foam as a momentary show
Of strength.

Here comes the sets—
Gently rolling,
Mass equals velocity—
The heartbeat of the earth,
Becomes a desired formula.

Time stands still,
As we head towards the
Surf and position
Ourselves to take the
Ultimate plunge.

Everything is drowned out,
Every sound, every thought.
As we become one with
Neptune’s might.

It’s at this moment that
We are primordial
And transcendent.

Fluid—we are born and we
die with every wave, with
Every lap of the oceans
Tongue.

From The Naked Cave

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There’s a cave
carved by Neptune,
by the California shore.
Inside,
I promptly
carved my own
design.

Intricate,
fast,
a part of me
I left there.

Everything was
perfect in that
secret space.

If only for
an afternoon with
the one I loved.

I can still smell
the sea breeze,
with every pounding wave.
And taste the dampness
as I reached for her hair.

Salty Eyes

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Ever wonder what it’s
like to be a sailor?

I’ve met a few
in my days,
men who live for the
great blue yonder.

Men, who’s legs
feel squeamish
and landlocked
when on solid ground.

The ocean for them
is the greener
side of the pastures.

They’re always talking
about their boats
as if
they were forlorned
mistresses.

Their candy shops
are marine and boat
stores, where they stop
to buy little
trinkets for their
loved one.

Men who know
each marina by
name, up and down
the coast line.

They even know
the secret ones
further up the bay
and their
associated
watering holes.

Places where they
can recount
with the liked minded,
their ocean adventures,

their lost marriages,
or that epic sea voyage
they’ve been diligently
planing, over
a pint of beer or two.

Men who know the history
behind grog. Who know the
dangers of a white squall.

Men who can look at the skies
and can tell if its going to rain,
who can tell you its going to be
smooth sailing.

Men who can read the stars
and navigate them like
Joshua Slocum and others
who have tamed the ocean’s
gates.

When you meet a real sailor
you’ll feel the love of the
Ocean in their salty eyes.

Portuguese Man Of War

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Down a lonely
stretch of beach
the smell of seaweed
and ocean mist is,

Medicinal.

The sand in between
my toes-soothing and
comfortable.

Salty-

air
clears
ones mind of
complexities.

Surf-

constant tossing
and turning,
a mechanism
of life.

Heartbeat,

as ocean waves pound
and move-a steady
rhythm of nature.

On

the beach
lies a
Portuguese
Man of War.

Alive

and still.
glimmering
like a candelabra
in the sun.

Heaving-

wanting to make
itself back
into the
sea.