ocean

A Poet Afloat

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"Find out

exactly what it is about,

what words flirt around;

being inspired. 

 

Seeing, 

hearing 

a piece of art,

hardrock rhymes

 

that tell what has transpired,

what had rambled on by.

Hard times,

or that feel-good story

 

that is too cliche for news

nowadays,

no love to be found.

Between then and now,

 

after everything that has happened,

still trying to climb a side of a mountain.

Reach up above and find purchase,

pull yourself onto the ledge,

 

overcome that edge.

Inspirational,

overcoming what supposed story

has made times get harder.

 

Determination

denotes what is to be,

or what can be deemed

a possibility. 

 

So is it inspirational,

it being anything, 

just because it had been done

by one who downplays the feat?

 

Nay,

it feels good instead,

the rushing feeling

of creating, being

 

involved in something more than me,

kittens and puppies,

dogs too,

more than you,

 

inspired to make a difference

because I had made made one 

to your day, 

or so you say.

 

As long as what is being inspired

doesn't bring the end

of art,

of love and life,

 

I'll do it every day,

I'll inspire,

unintentionally,

that's the point.

 

I think.

 

Nothing in this world compares,

being lost at sea;

tidal waves won't let me be.

 

So poetry,

a release to me,

inpires others?

I can live with that,

 

be it the truth."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Having written poetry for a little more than a year now I see a lot of comments about how much people can relate to my work, mostly due to how some can read it and feel a sense of vulnerability, or truth. I never try to write a piece to just one person but time and again more people feel that some of my work is almost made out to just them. 

 

I'm okay with that, since I get that comment more than once. Ego on high, I suppose.

Sleeping On The Rock

The winter winds whistle by from bay and sea, as if aggressively making love to one another much like we used to do. A memory that fades while a blackout swallows the light within me. The A train rumbles loudly and shakes the foundation of my home like your touch once shook my world. This stillness brings no rest. I get half asleep. Everything is done halfway now. I am half of what I once was. You were a Sandy-esque hurricane that blew me away only to leave me as scrap and rubble as I struggle to sleep on a Far Rock. 

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Rain

Quench the thirst of dying Earth
Great chasms of interlocking spider-webbed
fractures platforming horizon. 
Sun blistered and writhing. 
Free your brittle skeleton 
wrought 
and sandblasted.
Snarling hiss of wind ripped barren.
Your Freedom exists
swelling within the infinite timeless power
of thunderbolt storm-cloud rain-dance.
Quench the thirst of dying Earth 
  penetrate each bliss-filled fiber
Thirsting endlessly for their saving grace.
Never forever.
Then up the spout again.   
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*You're*

 
 July-8-2001 
 Trisha M. Barrek Hopkins
 
You're my shine 
After the rain
 
You're my water 
When the ocean runs dry
 
You're my tears 
When i can no longer cry
 
When I have not one friend
You're my peers
 
You're my courage
 When i can no longer try
 
You're my protection 
When i run into fears
 
You're my strength 
When i'm weak
 
You're my tissue
When i cry tears
 
You're my repair 
When i have a broken heart
 
You're my sound 
When i can no longer hear
 
You're my way 
When i can no longer be found
 
You're my day 
Before the stary night
 
You're my eyes 
When i no longer have sight
 
To me sweety you're: 
My everything 
Because together 
We have something 
We have eachother 
A special bond that'll last forever
From here to the moon
As long as we have each other 
Our Love will always bloom
 
Copyright
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Pirate Curse

 

Nair rest the mind eye: trappings 
ensnarement in blindnesse die 
a dialogue here within
read beyond

 Oh when the winds change 
direction no one'evr  knows
the future of the story to unfold
insidious wickednesse or mutiny
n'er retreat but eye for eye

the humble boots man tread 
on the land once fed by the 
treasure gold and blood of red
fortune to be made or lost never
to return

Aye the cheats to fire and burn 
matt'r nought he be on land or sea
may be strick'n wrought with 
treacherie 

Oh damnedest soul of griefe and 
tainted swive 
Beshackle to thee Miss Fortune 
as ye bride.
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just stop for a moment

just stop for a moment

and picture a place and time

way, way back there in the past

when greek and roman mythology

both reigned supreme

back when the world was still quite young

with lots of forests and woodlands

and covered over with pretty shades of green

 

then one special day

god reached down to earth

and came upon a young boy

who was really just half grown

happily swimming in the ocean

with a dolphin

long before the fear of humans

had ever been sown

 

anyways he was out there at sea

although he was all by himself

he was protected and safe

there with the dolphins

and somehow still very close to home

 

long before anyone had ever thought

to even giving him a name

or carve his statute in stone

for right now at least ---

he was still a young boy

happily swimming in the ocean

but really all alone

 

now think back to a time

long before people hungered

for the emptiness of fortune and fame

long before anyone had ever thought

to give the boy a name

 

but on that special day

god spoke and said

look ---

I know you’re just a young boy

swimming out here in the ocean

and having lots of fun

way out here at the sea

under a bright and warm summer sun

 

but if you didn’t act so dumb

and sometimes kind of stupid

you could almost be another angel

or even another cupid

 

because cupid would fly around

just all over the place

and touch each person’s heart

among every creed and race

 

the boy listened – but couldn’t speak

was this really god ?

and was he really this near ?

and was he really this close ?

the boy was totally stunned now

and overcome with anguish and fear

 

then god was gone

and the boy was alone again

with just his troubled thoughts

and mixed up hopes and dreams

and maybe even some silent

confused and muddled screams

 

but he thought to himself

over and over again in his mind

for at least a thousand times

 

( and you might as well know it right now !!! )

 

he was still looking for more proof

or at least a few more signs

 

anyways he thought to himself

those things that cupid spoke of

whether they’re real or not

or whether they came down from heaven

or from some distant galaxy

way way out there in outer-space

 

or were they just from

some crazy person’s wild imagination

whatever creed – whatever race

 

because --- if they really do make people happy

really, really happy

( for he too was kind of like cupid )

( sometimes kind of – sort of a little stupid )

 

for he simply couldn’t figure out

or understand why

if those things that cupid spoke of

if they make people – really, really happy

 

THEN WHY ON GOD’S GREEN EARTH ----???

DO THEY ALSO MAKE PEOPLE CRY ----???

 

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Discern

Folder: 
Promts I Completed

Fast paced words that recount our love in anger
And in that anger
I find the tiniest bit of melancholy to call my own
Since then stripped of an emotional state

 

To escape your feelings
As well as mine
Which you’ve seemed to help yourself to
I soar to the color of the sky
And the sound of crashing and ocean depths

 

Left in silence that takes away the anger
I hurl myself towards safety
Away from the cruel clutches of you

 

But as I sit
My caprice takes me
With such certainty I felt
That this ocean blue I felt I relate to
Has yet to sooth me


And with every time I run to my azure
From your displeasure
I have to come back
Such as the squawking gulls overhead
Must come back to land

 

With your sustenance
You sustain my being

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem doesn't really have much of a format.

And I guess it doesn't make much sense either.

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The Man and the Ocean

It is always in the ceaseless motion
And it was exactly the one, who had it perfectly done!
His name was the powerful ocean
With joy he supported the plan.

 

We live as we’ve lived and the question of how?
The nature suddenly did us allow,
To possess and to use such a valuable gift
From whom we’ve been fed, and all wisdom conceived.
The questions we’ve had, and still have them now!

 

You stood on the bridge of this life
With the wonderful rooted idea…
And the doubts which have been left in the rear
Couldn’t reach your unstoppable drive.

 

For the crafts you’ve been gifted
Nothing seemed to exist,
To create any mist,
Not to let your success to be lifted.

 

From there, onwards, you went far from earth to the sky,
Like the birds you’ve got wonderful wings,
Like these birds you have finally learned how to fly.
And you rose far above other beings!

 

With the wonder you went, with the wonder you go
Working hard on these new revelations…
And they stand now revealed by the man, in the row,
Leading us to the other dimensions!

 

What’s the next in this ceaseless motion?
Can we have it all perfectly done?
And we hope, that the powerful ocean
Still with joy will support our plan!

 

          ~~~~~***~~~~~

 

 

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Star Child

Are you a star child? 

 Can you make the flowers bloom 
with a wave of your hand?
Do diamonds wonder what it would be like
 to be you?
Do your words linger long
 like waves, 
made to lap the beaches velvet shore
 and rock in its poetic ebb?
Does your gravity pull the 
Moon
Earth
Stars 
Down
 into the infinite orbit of your eyes; 
and when welling a tear,
could they wash away the sea?
 
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