Whitecaps, eager, race to shore --
couldn't get there any faster;
sand attempts to keep the score...
Shells of pearl and alabaster
dot the wild, abandoned coast,
laid bare as an ossuary,
and the wind, a mournful ghost,
wails...
Indifferent, the waves hurry.
no need building, brick by brick
proper facing does the trick
where violets lie
and roses obstruct
where tulips deny
that poppies are plucked
where dandelions roar
and daisies' days end
that there -- is your core
bouquet with no friend
orange, difficult to rhyme
in the best of circumstances
oh, if I but had a dime
surely then, my slim finances
would improve, as would my courage
even when standing within bow range
The Atlantic sends raw spray
at the lighthouse off Gibraltar
"On your knees!", it roars, "and pray
on Poseidon's sacred altar!"
But the worshippers decline
came there for the salt and brine
Author notes: image from nytimes.com
sand everywhere - the landmass -- is buried underneath
the desert is an hourglass God's chosen to bequeath
grains blow in each direction, the hourglass' on its side
and time -- respects perfection, continues to abide
Author notes: image from cnbc.com
window acting as a prism
drapes refusing to engage
here I am in my own prison
I admit, a well lit cage
there is nowhere left to hide
I may have to go outside
Author notes: image from facebook
Daedalus, incredulous
argues with his son
Icarus, though rigorous
wants to catch the sun
chariot that carries it
and Apollo, too
way up high, high in the sky
blue, so very blue
Icarus, you're vigorous --
Daedalus says then --
but I balk, you're not a hawk
no, you're but a man
and the sun will singe, my son
you will crash and burn
your life flashes, then your ashes
mortuary urn
son would rather ignore father
feathered as a bird
hates that Minos, who's as mean as --
well, I'm sure you've heard --
he says: dad, we have been had
and I have to try
tests the wings, and pulls some strings...
then takes into the sky
childhood dreams -- the baby crescent
luminous and incandescent
swarmed by starry fireflies -- day will come she'll realize
they're as distant as the moon, and that day, it'll come too soon
always wishing she was still sitting on that windowsill
Author notes: image from freepik.com
Coney Island's Ferris wheel
groaning softly as its steel
carries lovers to new highs
first time riders feast their eyes
and imagine themselves brave
ocean shrugs, returns their wave
Author notes: image from marketwatch.com
pity Achilles -- the man's chief appeal is
his weaker, assailable heel
Peloponnese knows it isn't his knees
those were a part of his deal
Thetis his mother, 'twas she and no other
dunked him, head first, in the Styx
made him impervious, rude and discourteous
words might still hurt, but not sticks
should have let go -- mothers know this is so
he might still be marauding today
and his Myrmidon fellas -- to a man, they were jealous
would be following into the fray
so pity Achilles -- a man that I feel is
woefully misunderstood
though you never can tell -- all is well that ends well
he might live in the end -- Hollywood
by definition
poems about poetry
are metaverses