dreams in the Sahara
insanity in the flamenco acedia,
I linger in the ocean floor,
stripped in fertile silence
as frost knows death
better than I.

the typhoon, the sailor
it festers the dying beast
of the albatross and the ocean sea.

she’ll kiss the divine blue waves
with fury, summoning the wind’s womb;
in the age of man and death,

a paradox of shadows like in the Torres Del Paine,
the shuffle of ice in the dusk stood trembling
dew hangs low in the dark cawing ancient warships

stretches the wings, forgetting the language
upon the sanctuary; midnight timbers, and the wind
murmurs a Hebrew song—
assails the salty waves in a coup, the air free of scars,

it hunts the grandeur of the icy world
dreaming under the stars, seized like a troubadour’s poetry
in the bare and frozen winter of many, many abandoned
in the sleeping flurry of cold, flashing like a blue guitar.

river, marred with froth,
gathered by the pilgrim waves in the absolve of silence,
hidden in the blood that breaks in the dark
beyond the foothills, the soul, and seawall.

the typhoon, the sailor
it festers the dying beast
of the albatross and the ocean sea.

she’ll kiss the divine blue waves
with fury, summoning the wind’s womb
in the age of man and death.

© 2020 lucysworks.com All Rights Reserved.

30 thoughts on “Ocean.”

  1. Here I was waiting and hoping you had a new post. And here it is!

    Loved the entire poem but the last three lines are my fave. 😁🌹

    Liked by 2 people

    1. We drink red tea in the winter and summer
      by the pale, ocean shore with rain
      feeding on the sunlight with coffee beans,
      and spoke in broken languages to each other
      originating from your father in different countries of Europe,
      he speaks almost a dozen languages. You wished he taught you more,
      but as we speak, the dog sits on his bed wing
      in strange, prolonged whimpers; he wants to go outside too.
      Stirring beneath the sea of carved coffee steam,
      we fall with the firelight that the world spreads
      from our bones to the shit street,
      pressing time to its summer night river
      as the bank of winter ends, betrayed in writings
      from long ago, never read again, never thought of again,
      lost in valleys in dark whispers
      or promises.


  2. I loved every words dear Lucy. A epic journey into my favorite place. The sea. The sea is a dangerous lover, can be gentle and can be a great storm. Thank you for sharing your amazing poetry. You write with the skill of the ancient writers.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Oh, I’m so glad you enjoyed this piece. I had those ideas in mind when writing—with how the sea is beautiful, but can be so dangerous. I thank you for the comments and feedback. I always enjoy reading them.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. I was lucky. I was station at Fort Ord, California from 1992-1994. A dream came true for me. The ocean is a wonderful muse. After reading your work. I create another for the Pacific and the Big Sur. You are welcome dear Lucy.

        Liked by 1 person

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