tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post6034555742047047752..comments2024-01-04T09:04:59.477-08:00Comments on Pictures, Poetry & Prose: A Day on the WaterLaura Jaynehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16277887372939757081noreply@blogger.comBlogger9125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-32009255869934664552009-02-24T17:00:00.000-08:002009-02-24T17:00:00.000-08:00Thanks Laura Jayne for accepting my poem! Although...Thanks Laura Jayne for accepting my poem! Although I don't have my blog anymore(because of school & work) I still write under the name ::PuraPoetica:: and of course have your blog bookmarked as well. I will continue to contribute whenever I can. Many blessings to you.<BR/><BR/>S. Anderson<BR/>purapoetica@yahoo.comAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-68652468221309660992009-02-24T07:33:00.000-08:002009-02-24T07:33:00.000-08:00~Emptiness Without You~ (Acrostic)Ecstasy unravels...~Emptiness Without You~ (Acrostic)<BR/><BR/>Ecstasy unravels across zephyr strewn twine<BR/>mask spectors void of belonging<BR/>pallored rivulets garnish nautical brine<BR/>tempt waters brisk with longing<BR/>inertial lure calls forth two pulses which<BR/>negate thru rustic chasms of dirge<BR/>euphoria marvels along beckoning lips<BR/>seek refuge as desolate hearts converge<BR/>sapphirine imbued mist drizzle upon ships<BR/><BR/>weary from course drawn seasons<BR/>into Nirvana's kiss I claim my bliss<BR/>trembling my soul beyond reason<BR/>harken we stand upon fleeting sand<BR/>of which vintage tides rebound<BR/>unconditional hands brush eloping strands<BR/>tears full of longing abound<BR/><BR/>yet cerulean eyes cast echoing sighs <BR/>our utopia must remain hollow<BR/>unjustly seas demand reprieve wherever your spirit followsAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-35418487843357591352009-02-19T11:19:00.000-08:002009-02-19T11:19:00.000-08:00The deep blue of the ocean called to her. She wan...The deep blue of the ocean called to her. She wanted to dive down through the murky drifts and touch the sand on the ocean floor. The feel of his hand on her waist brought her back. She realized that she was caught on the shore, held prisoner from Need and Want by Love.HeatherGroveshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03388744148314276724noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-60016636828452665332009-02-18T19:26:00.000-08:002009-02-18T19:26:00.000-08:00The small sailboat we four set out on was new to m...The small sailboat we four set out on was new to me. <BR/> <BR/>Every Wednesday night was the sailboat races in the bay. We weren't racing that night, just sailing on the periphery of the race. We passed plates of ripe fruit and glasses of wine.<BR/> <BR/>We were new to each other then, sharing a blanket for warmth in the dusk of the evening. The sky turned the softest shades of blue and pink, that fed into our growing infatuation. Everything was soft and seemed to take my breath away. How perfect the sky, the ocean, the beginnings of our life together.shabby girlhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03991126161405336712noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-73644911938589912062009-02-17T17:26:00.000-08:002009-02-17T17:26:00.000-08:00blue sky, blue water, bluesong on the radio softwi...blue sky, blue water, blue<BR/>song on the radio soft<BR/>wind whisks cares awayAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-41623143080838843982009-02-17T14:21:00.000-08:002009-02-17T14:21:00.000-08:00I tried to write about a boat and all I could thin...I tried to write about a boat and all I could think of were icebergs, the Bermuda Triangles, and viking funerals. I kept trying, but, still, all I could focus on was madness induced from drinking saltwater, blood-thirsty pirates, and sea monsters lurking in the mysterious waters of ancient maps. Third times the charm, I thought, and once again let me mind play with the notion of nautical transportation. I couldn't stop myself from plunging headfirst into cliched visions of shipwreck survivors spelling out SOS in desert island sand, of shark fins swiftly slicing the surface of red-purple ocean, of captain's nobly going down with the ship. I told my mother about my negative proclivities when it came to boating. She laughed and reminded me that we had grown up on the coast, that I loved the water. And, that's true, I do love water, pools, the ocean, seas, rivers, etc. But when I think of that water slowly dripping into a leaky submarine that's stuck 20,000 leagues deep, I must admit to myself that swimming is a blast and boating a venture filled with pitfalls I cannot face.Killerwithttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06499177987599549908noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-41955493711973153852009-02-17T11:17:00.000-08:002009-02-17T11:17:00.000-08:00The grandest view does bless our eyes -Five miles ...The grandest view does bless our eyes -<BR/>Five miles of marsh, its magic still<BR/>Enthralls a sea spread ‘neath broad skies<BR/>As, with the moon, the bay will fill.<BR/><BR/>From the deck of our windward house,<BR/>Lawn slopes down to a sea of grass;<BR/>Home to bird and meadow mouse,<BR/>And, in the cuts, a ray or bass.<BR/><BR/>Two rivers gouge the sodden turf<BR/>Dividing town from harbor town<BR/>A watery refuge giving berth<BR/>To sail boats, their anchors down.<BR/><BR/>Once cottage camps, now super-sized,<BR/>A score of houses dot the shores;<BR/>Their builders prove dreams realized,<BR/>While herons cry their never-mores.<BR/><BR/>And at land’s end, a pristine beach<BR/>Replete with dunes and changing rooms<BR/>Gathers in bathers quick to reach<BR/>For cockle shells and sea-weed blooms.<BR/><BR/>The tides seep in, the tides flow out.<BR/>And weather blows, both mild and harsh.<BR/>Once skippers, we no longer scout -<BR/>Our skiff stays docked beside the marsh.Sometimes Sophiahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/10053598560687202583noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-77119872298848841932009-02-17T09:19:00.000-08:002009-02-17T09:19:00.000-08:00Sea foam ribbons through the blue,as my legs hang ...Sea foam ribbons through the blue,<BR/>as my legs hang over the side.<BR/><BR/>Dancing sun spotlights the horizon,<BR/>as my eyes squint to nowhere.<BR/><BR/>Silver dolphins cut through the view,<BR/>as my hand moves the paintbrush.septembermomhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01570525910483384484noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5556512955091936745.post-49772316613075401652009-02-17T06:35:00.000-08:002009-02-17T06:35:00.000-08:00The red boat was the one he wanted. It was smaller...The red boat was the one he wanted. It was smaller, but the red was perfect against the blue harbor water. If that was his boat, he thought, he would push off and start the motor, waving to the light house attendant. He would steer against the tide until the harbor was just a memory, and find some other cove, an island, find something that wasn't there. A girl with hair as yellow as the light house signal stepped past him in to the boat. She didn't seem to notice he was there as she went about removing the tarp and arranging her bags. She has a lot of them, he thought vagely, and doesn't she go to my school?<BR/>"Anthony!" She called to him. Yes, he remembered, they'd had a class or two together. "Mind untying that?" She pointed to the rope. He obeniantly unknotted it, and held it in both hands, "Can I come too?" The words slipped out. He didn't even know where she was going or why. She was shading her eyes to look at him. "Good idea." She said after a moment, "It takes me forever to start this thing." She gestured at the engine. <BR/>Anthony hopped in, pushed off, started the motor and waved to the light house attendant.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.com