Seashells poem by Daisy Sidewinder

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Sea Carneys – poem by Daisy Sidewinder

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.

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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My Grandfather Poem by Andy Derryberry

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my grandfather
i smelled my grandfather
this morning in the
sweat soaked gloves
i use on the dumbbells

i remember him as sad
because the love of his live
died young, in childbirth

i wish he could have
found some happiness
to share with me

but i guess some wounds
just won’t heal…
still i was just a kid

but today is a gift to me
and as long as i draw breath
i’m going to live live live

My Grandfather poem copyright Andy Derryberry

The Pots he Marred in Making

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Wake! For the Sun, who scatter’d into flight
The Stars before him from the Field of Night,
Drives Night along with them from Heav’n, and strikes
The Sultan’s Turret with a Shaft of Light.

The published poets are passed around and re-posted like popcorn on the internet. I have told myself to present original unpublished material but sometime the need to share true greatness of the past  overwhelms me. This is published in the hope you will visit and read, from Persia,  Omar Khayyám (18 May 1048 – 4 December 1131) and The Rubaiyat. I was given a copy when I was young. It is a prized possession. If you ever are in that bookstore looking for a book of verse that can make a difference in a life, this book made an difference in mine.

Here is another excerpt:

Said one among them — “Surely not in vain
My substance of the common Earth was ta’en
And to this Figure moulded, to be broke,
Or trampled back to shapeless Earth again”.

Then said a Second — “Ne’er a peevish Boy
Would break the Bowl from which he drank in joy,
And He that with his hand the Vessel made
Will surely not in after Wrath destroy”.

After a momentary silence spake
Some Vessel of a more ungainly Make;
“They sneer at me for leaning all awry:
What! did the Hand then of the Potter shake?”

Whereat some one of the loquacious Lot —
I think a Sufi pipkin-waxing hot —
“All this of Pot and Potter — Tell me then,
Who is the Potter, pray, and who the Pot?”

“Why,” said another, “Some there are who tell
Of one who threatens he will toss to Hell
The luckless Pots he marr’d in making — Pish!
He’s a Good Fellow, and ’twill all be well”.

old song new war endless war via perpetual fear poem by Summer Breeze

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it feels personal again like it did as a kid
early spring birds early morning singing
when the heart knew only joy and hide
the best that you can
when confronted by authorities wrath
we rush thru our hail mary’s full of grace
until an angel whispers in our ear
“if you scream he will stop the beating”
what’s happened dear mother of a god if you are
to the beating stopping with the screaming
now we haf’ta lie to stop the beating
see them take these lies off to war?
see Johnny march
see Jane cry
see baby bleeding dirty uranium pellets
elephants pushing donkeys off to war
one two three four what the hell are we fighting for
old song new war endless war via perpetual fear
oh but oops what Is perpetual
when the heart knows only joy and hide
early spring birds early morning singing
that’s what
it is still personal to those who have ears to hear
see
the sun
by dawn’s early light unites
father sky and mother earth in turquoise rose embrace
a new baby day is born

where did all the elephant asses go
long time leaving
when will they ever learn
when will
they ev’er
learn?

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