Sea People

Our love was not other than this
It did not, not break on the shores
Like the waves of oceans
Across from which we came

You were native and I was immigrant
Or was I foreigner and you were
Oriental? A lowered eyelid of heart
Far in the distance, coming closer

Like a strange shell of our souls
Meeting, side by side, we tried
To explain it, but it was what it was
That higher instinct to flight

Love is a flight from reality
If we’d close our eyes
We might have missed it
The breath that mingles with years

And the solace that comes
From deep loyalty and ultimate
Belonging, it’s the shore alight
After a thousand empty voyages

Our love was not other than this
The body of a flower born to bloom
On a lonely branch, requiring timing
Nature did that to us, she let us go

Against the musical rhythm
Of our fate where we met
Changing our lives forever.

A Mermaid and a Muse

How can I live here with no real Horizon/
Only the open sea, of my soul
Filling me with lighthouse contemplation
I am a simple man, with gifts enclosed
.
These years elapse with words
That sift for someone like you
Mermaid and a Muse –
Give me your hand, I’ll seal it
.
.
Upon the open sea, where spirits
Reach the mountaintops, and take
Rivers back with the melting snow
Down gazing to the docks
.
Where Sirens cry for harboured lights
To be an ordinary woman
With hearth and common labours
Until, your wild spirit unbroken
.
.
Should return, from thence you came
How can I live here without you,
It’s too late to give my hand & heart
To those who would remain a mystery
.
I need someone intimate, convenient/
To put me in my proper place
One of my own kind, who might that be?

Abandoning the Sea

My last poem broke through
Harbors, like lost ships, journeys
Ready for the scrap yard
Junk sales, that’s where I found my love
The rusted submarines of

So much idealistic passion
Like spilled cargo, that never
Reached its final destination, listless
After years of searching the wrong
Seas, continents too prosperous

Broken contracts, memory white
With the regret and guilt of loss
The kind of romantic sailors that assure you –
The Sea can make you go crazy
Ready to rejoin the world, without skills

My last poem is ready to sell-out
And be a different kind of martyr
I try not to count the ships, as dreams
Or the people I lost along the way
But that way of life ruined all prospects

Art, were the ruthless waves
Where I sacrificed and risked everything
And lost, my last poem was an admission
Of the darling pupils of my muse
That I will never see again, least of all in verse.