Posts Tagged ‘beach’

Shifting Sands Sublime

November 3, 2018

Beneath the appearance of things

behind the wonder that contemplation brings

there lies a universe of joy and pain

entrained upon whatever relics still remain

of a world colored by some eternal stain;

and wherever that stain remains

things are not and will never be the same

provoking some to surmise it’s just a game

that they can play and then refrain

from any effort to name

or explain.

And yet,

so many live for what they can get;

they allow no time to pause and let

life just happen along the way

so they can soon look back and say

what a joy it is to pause and stay

in the lingering light of a well-lived day

while the world just turns on come what may.

Oh, history breaks on sands far away

while here we enter into the fray;

we laugh or cry along the way

tomorrow and today,

I say, I say:

If I could comprehend this troubled world

so creative, yet destructively unfurled

I’d grasp the mystery, so sublime

that slaps between the sands of time

on this ever-shifting, long shoreline—

this consciousness of mine,

maybe it’s in or out of line

and maybe with a little sip of wine,

yes, I’d dream up some silly little rhyme,

and whether it be sublime and fine

or not worth a dime,

it nevertheless is mine,

and yet it can be thine

if you take the time.

 

King of Soul

Sand Beach

June 13, 2018

(With appreciation of Matthew Arnold’s poem, Dover Beach)

The Ocean is strong  today.

The waves roll in; the sun is bright

upon the Pacific. In this island surf the light

sparkles and tumbles; the rocky shores stand,

steadfast and vast, under a friendly sun.

Let’s do the beach; this afternoon’s energy is vigorous.

But hey! from this long splash of spray,

where sea meets the sun-kiss’d land—

Sand1

Listen! we hear the pounding roar

of sand grains which the waves draw back, and fling,

forever, upon this high strand.

Beginning and ceasing, and then beginning again,

with a forceful rhythm it perseveres, to roll

The eternal resonance of wonder in.

Dear Matthew, back in the day,

heard this on the North Sea, and it brought

into his mind the ponderous ebb and flow

of our melancholy brood; we

hear it still the same; yet with that lamenting we discern

a reverberating of relentless purpose

in this pounding Pacific shore.

Oh sea of faith!

Persistent and unrelenting, all ‘round our earth’s shore—

you flap forever like folds of a bright banner unfurled.

Although I also feel

that ancient melancholy, the long, withdrawing roar,

retreating, in the breath

of the evening wind, laden with our roiling refugees

and the uncared-for masses of the world.

Oh, people, let us be true

To one another! For the world, which seems

to boil before us like a pot of strife—

so disjointed, so distraught, so stubbornly the same,

really has somewhere some joy, love, and even flashes of benevolence,

some certainty— here and there a little peace— even some easing of the pain,

while we here on this fragg’ed globe

get swept with fake news and tweeting dweebs who incite us,

as ill-informed combatants clash with their devices.

Glass Chimera

Coast

October 5, 2016

Clear

Coast is clear

life is dear

without fear

now and here

World turns round

up turns down

some get lost, others found

life goes back to ground

Build the town

structures up, but they’ll come down

lots of noise, then dearth of sound

still the world goes round and round

Another day, another turn

some will learn; some will burn

many earn and some discern

still the world doth turn and turn

Clouds rise up

life is tough

times get rough

lose some stuff

When all is said and done

we live and walk and speak and run

we feel pain but we find fun

until this present day is done.

What then?

Do it all again?

How about find a friend

in the one who died and rose again.

Cloud

Glass half-Full

Dover Breach

August 23, 2014

The air is mad tonight

electric with fright

but drugged with fluff and flight:

hear no evil, see no blight.

America in cyber slumber swoons

while England grooms jihad goons

like 1937 fascist blackshirts

deflowering 2014 democratic skirts.

France ( peace be upon her)

seethes with same old same old stir–

that angst witch discontent doth incur

from yonder barricaded former age

now slit with new jihadi rage.

 

The air of Faith

so thin of late

as most prefer to flirt with fate

now cringes in this new birth of hate;

its melancholy, long withdrawing gasp

retreating fast, like slithering asp

unable now to grasp

with slipping grips unfurled

the naked idols the world.

 

Ah, good Christian, let us be true

to one another! for the world, which casts its spell

of rebel chaos and decadent hell,

has no power when all’s said and done

to set our ancient faith upon the run,

though the infernal note of madness floods every byte

while polar extremists clash by night.

 

(This poem’s form was adapted from Matthew Arnold’s Dover Beach.)

Smoke

Crawling upon the sands of Time

July 10, 2014

 

If I had a pair of ragged claws

scuttling through surf-tossed sands,

I’d crawl up on this shellshorn beach.

I’d raise my thorny head

to see what I could see

to survey this continental conglomerate

that rises before me

like something big and fixed in time.

Whatever this is,

it is not akin to my ocean, no,

not in constant motion,

but something solid is it

something accumulated in time

something sedimented

into one big thing:

conglbchrck

If I could drag me crusty self

upon that stony shore

I would find me windblown

wood grown structure there to rest

beneath its boney  covering crest

and call meself at home.

bchtreeU

But wait! What’s this?

A thorny beast arrests me quest!

This spiny splort to thwart my sport!

Who goes there?

blowfsh2

Declare yourself if ye be man or beast!

Shucks. ‘T’was what I wanted least,

to share me beach with such a quilly guy,

to see me thorny self within his eye.

Pshaw! to put it politely,

‘though I could use another word,

one that you have prob’ly heard.

Glass Chimera

 

The Interface of Light and Matter

June 29, 2014

After 44 years later of pondering this and living the wonderful life God hath provided, I prefer the Torahic approach to conceiving what God is like. Torah, or Genesis, says God made Man in His own image.  God was expressing himself when created all things, including humans. If we see human characteristics in his handiwork, it’s because God intended for us to see that he was expressing himself through creation, just like we do.

God is an artist, like me.

Those artistic tendencies that he developed within me are what enable me to appreciate the Artist that He is.

Here is an example: 

WavArt2u

Nice work, n’est ce pa? I like this better than, say, Mondrian, Pollock or Warhol. And it’s almost as interesting as Wyeth or Monet.

WavArt6u

Here’s another, with a little more background, like DaVinci adding background perspective to Mona’s portrait, which changed art forever:

Sometimes, God takes his brush and turns it downward with a little perpendicular slash, like Van Gogh:

WavArt5

Other times, God uses his electromagnetic energy to separate Light from Dark, like he did in the Beginning:

WavLght

Every now and then, we see a microcosmic image that resembles a larger microcosm. Here’s one that reminds me of an airplane view I got once, over Utah, or maybe it was Nevada:

WvMicCosm

Another good thing about the Original Artist: He likes to use his critters to help make the work interesting. Here’s one where the sand critters do their thing:

Sandcrittrs

Pretty interesting, n’est ce pas?

That’s enough for today’s gallery. Time for dinner. I think Pat’s throwing a salad together with celery or broccoli, maybe some parsley.

WvPlnts

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But listen! What Victorious call rings loudly from yon beach bar? See the “V” in the pic above? Here in Tamarindo, Costa Rica, it suddenly has a new meaning:

Viva Costa Rica! Costa Rica just defeated Greece in World Cup Soccer! This has never happened before!

Glass Chimera

The Defender of Life

June 28, 2014

 

‘Z’ounds!

What’s this!

What bellicose shell?

What Defender of the Molluskan realm?

What Challenger from Sands and Seas?

What El Toro wielding horns to gore yon matador?bellcoseSh3What defensive reflex hath raised such pointy provocation?

What genetic arsenal from the clammy Deep hath constructed such antlerian Defense?

Why, the Defender of Life Itself, the Great I Am, the One Who IS–

The One who wrote the Code.

He defends his own!

Stand aside, all ye challengers of the Faith!

 

Glass Chimera

shifting on the sands of rhyme

March 1, 2014

Here’s a line in the sand:

surf breaking there,  here shifting strand.

Out there swells planetary ocean;

it rolls in with universal motion.

This continent  begins here, between my toes

with little grains that stretch to grandiose shows:

mountains untamed beyond cultivated grass,

miniscule creatures in habitats vast.

 

Who formed this strand I think I know;

It wasn’t Michelangelo. No,

it wasn’t Newton or Sagan or Copernicus.

‘Though they played their part to show us

the dynamics of this present shifting locus,

it’s no result of human focus.

Nor do our carbon-laden spewings

amount to any significant doings.

 

Our refuse is but momentary trash

sliding up on  shores of civilizations past;

it comes, it goes, but no one knows

what bosons do beneath atomic shows.

If we think it’s in our power

to determine planet emissions of any given hour,

then I’ve got some beachfront land to sell you

in Arizona; here, let me tell you.

 

CR, with new novel, Smoke, soon

Lover Beach

June 27, 2012

The Ocean is tidy this morning.

the tide is half; the sun comes up

over the swells; Lanai and Molokai loom

across the choppy blue. Old Maui volcano sleeps,

cloudy and vast, heart of the island.

Come to the veranda; bright is the sky!

 

Always, from the breaking waves

where Pacific pelts this sun-kiss’d isle,

Listen! you hear the roaring power

of our planet that flings up watery wings

and pulls them down again on shifting sand.

Roar, and whisper, and roar again

with cyclical slumber to lose and win

a perpetual thrust of planetary din.

 

Poet Arnold felt it long ago

among the pebbles of Dover beach, summoning

the futile strands of faithlessness

and existential woe; I

find instead the inevitability of faith

called up to bloom upon this far-flung ocean isle.

 

The ocean of despair

so near and far in present past, to pound us down on human shores,

throws its tantrum of pointless angst, with cynic sand.

But now I only feel the wave of our resolve

upon a flagg’ed pole of hope,

advancing, in the sun-stirred air

of dawning day, o’er the bright edges of our vision,

as lilies of the field.

 

Ah, love, let us be true

to one another! for the world, which seems

to pound upon us like a surf of strife,

so relentless, so provocative, so hard,

has a terrible power all its own

that would dash our love and hope in forceful blight.

But we here on our sun-bathed isle,

caressed with waves of love and delight–

we subdue the heartless poundings of the night.

 

Glass half-Full