Poems about the Sea and Shore

A Day at Sea on Grand Princess

March, 2013

Glistening, Sparkling, Reflecting light.

Swishing, slushing, roaring it's might.

Dark Green troughs and peaks of frothy white.

Dancing gliding, churning in my sight.

Mesmerizing.

On Board the Grand Princess

March 11, 2013

Rippling shades of bluish glass

Gliding, flowing, rushing past.

Melding with the blue-gray sky.

The Sea does continually mystify.

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The sun came our after a rainy day, so 

I took a walk on the beach.

September 21, 2013

Little Bubbles floating, floating,

Round and glistening oré the sand.

Little children running, popping,

Chasing bubbles is so grand.

Little Bubbles drifting, drifting

Round and glistening at the beach.

Little children running, laughing,

Chasing bubbles til they're out of reach.

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On a walk to the beach on a warm sunny afternoon.

October 22, 2014

There were so many tracks on the beach today.

The Sand was hard and wet like clay.

Soles of different shapes and treds

Were woven in with four-toed peds.

Other intricate patterns were etched so fine

By unknown artists making a mysterious design.

Tonight the tide will wash them away,

Making a clean slate for a brand new day. 

Poems of reflections

On My Dad's Birthday

April 12, 2013

Standing in the newly-mown grass

With breezes blowing gently past

Memories of the family I once had

Were flooding my thoughts and making me sad.

Where did they go--their souls are not here--

Only their ashes and bones, I fear.

Is this where in the future I head?

I shouldn't think of things I dread.

To live in the present is the key

And giving love to all we see,

So when our time is finally done

With the universe we will be one.

(Guess where I went today?)

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April 21, 2013

This was a beautiful April Day

For singing, gardening and play.

As the sun slid into the sea,

I felt it was a wonderful day for me.

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After South American Cruise

May 1, 2013

We've traveled the globe

and over the seas.

Looking for earth's antiquities.

But no matter where we shall be,

It's home that makes my heart run free.

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June 13, 2013

I am home alone, but I don't mind,

"Cause my time's my own

And I'm not confined.

Like the birds in flight

that I watch near the sea,

I take delight

In just being me.

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At the cabin--June 2013

Sitting in silence in these woods

Calms my thoughts and my moods.

There's work to be done

But when I bask in the sun,

I have no inclination to move.

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From cabin deck

Sunday, July 7, 2013

In the moment I float

Like the leaves in a breeze

Fear and pain do fade

And my soul it frees.

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Powell Street Station after an Ollie class.

February 6, 2014

There's a life down here

in the underground--

A pulse, I feel, beating all around,

With musical notes floating

through closed space,

And footsteps pounding as in a race.

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Ash Wednesday

March 5, 2014

My intentions for the next forty days

Are to try and mend my indulgent ways.

I will reflect, meditate, and pray

And be mindful of the words I say.

I will be aware of the food I have taken.

And share with those who have been forsaken.

(I was inspired by Father John's sermon at St. Gabriel's Mass)

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March 2015

Waiting, Waiting-

The time creeps slowly by,

But in my anxiety,

I surely wish it would fly.

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March 18, 2015

Waiting, info, details, trauma,

My mind is spinning like a drama.

They stuck us in an empty cell

And my whole history I had to tell.

What did I do that was so vile,

Since I felt like a prisoner on trial.

It is comfort and solace that I seek

For sometimes my future seems so bleak.

So I sit quietly, soft music in the air,

Breathing in energy, Breathing out despair.

My worrisome thoughts melt from my mind,

And in their place springs an uplifting kind.

(My first day being interviewed for a Clinical Trial)

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March 20, 2015

Once when I was a little girl,

I sat on a log and watched a squirrel.

He flitted and scampered in the trees,

Making me feel happy and at ease.

(I made this up while having an MRI to my brain.)

Poems about my city garden

July 17, 2013

There was a little pumpkin plant growing by the door.

If there was to be a pumpkin, it needed to grow some more.

I dug it up so carefully, putting it in another place,

Near the backyard lily patch, where it had its own space.

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June 1, 2013

Digging in my garden is like digging in the past.

I keep finding things that were long-ago outcast--

A shiny yellow marble, glistening brightly in the sun;

A rusty, tireless hot wheel that was once a lot of fun.

A crow flits by in my reverie,

Cawing loudly with a mocking voice.

What does he know of memory?

He has no right to give advice.

Since those days of yore I cherish;

I hold them close to me.

But really they didn't perish,

"Cause with my grandkids I can be.

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In the garden

I was a little stumped,

But not for long.

With a lot of persistence

That dead tree is gone.

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July 2013

I planted lots of flowers,

but the Sun is all gone.

I'm thankful for the colors

And the bright green lawn.

For the summers here are dismal

With skies in watery grays.

I long to feel the sunshine

With its warm comforting rays.

(As an after thought, I wrote the following:)

Why am I always complaining

About what the day has brought.

I need to be thankful

And deal with what I've got.

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February 14, 2015

Silly, Silly Daffodilies.

Sprouting up amongst the Lillies.

It's such a delight to see you grow,

Though In February, there should be falling snow.

(In the mountains, of course.)

Poems about Sunsets

Poems about Sunsets

Driving down Sloat Blvd. towards the ocean and the sunset:

Rainbow Sherbet Skies

With a puff of Cotton Candy lies

Over a ribbon of purplish haze.

A Beautiful sight to end autumn days.

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A flaming ball of waxy light

Melts into the liquid haze

Catching a flock of birds in flight,

In a gorgeous sunset that does amaze.

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August 22, 2014

The beach was so somber and gray tonight,

But then I saw a miraculous sight.

It was as if a dark shade had lifted

And the whole horizon brilliantly shifted.

Then, along with some folks I met,

We watched the ocean as the sun quietly set.

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September 25, 2014

The sun was wearing a hat tonight

And sinking, sinking out of sight.

I wonder where he did go?

With that yellow-orangey shiny glow.

Poems to Friends and Family

Watching Caitlin in Church

April 14, 2013

Wiggly worm. Flitting Butterfly.

You are Daddy's girl,

and the Apple of Mom's eye.

With big brown eyes and a 

   happy smiley face,

Each day that goes by,

   you are gaining in grace.

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Brendan's Last Day in Second Grade

Brendan's movin' up

School's Out

Summer's in.

Fog is all about.

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I wrote this for friends who lost their home to fire.

April 2014

Cherished memories returned to the earth,

But from the Ashes will come rebirth.

We hope our Love will fill some of the Void,

Of Life's Precious Treasures destroyed.

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To Our Ceramics Teacher 

May 2014

You showed us how to mold

the Earthy water and clay

And let our talent blossom

In our own unique way.  

You showed us how to work 

With the simple earthen clay

And then let our talent blossom

In our own unique way.  

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For the Album I made for Caitlin in the Ollie Book-making class.

June 21, 2014

My dear Caitlin, you've grown so fast.

And now Kindergarten is here at last.

Soon you will be off to a very good start.

Learning Reading, Writing, Math and Art.

But have lots of fun and make new friends,

And embrace whatever each day sends.  

Little Poems about Rain during a drought.

We have been suffering from drought conditions for four years out here in the West, while the East coast seems to be drowning in too much water.  At first people took the dry spell lightly thinking it would be soon over and the rains would return.  But as each month went by with no rain, and sometimes rain at odd times, people began to be concerned and eventually we had water rationing to contend with.

Then one morning in 2012, my mind thought of a poem while I listened to the rain out my bedroom window.  I posted it on FB and received a bit of encouragement about writing a poem.  After that I couldn't seem to stop rhyming words, and the longer the drought hung on, the more aware I became of rain and continued to write little poems.

I am certainly not very accomplished with this new poetry craze, but it is amazing to me that I can think of poems.  As a child, I couldn't write more than a "Roses are Red" poem, but I remember my father used to write poems and stories, so maybe a little rubbed off on me.

                                      LITTLE POEMS ABOUT RAIN DURING A DROUGHT
Nov. 30, 2012

Rain, Rain, Comin'down--
Photo Class is cancelled downtown.
Later I'll take pictures instread.
Now's a good day to stay in bed.

This poem was written at the cabin:  December 2012:

Rain, Rain falling gently
Soaking the earth and all its plenty,
Melting the snow that fell before,
Where are the winters I remember of yore.

At the cabin--January 2013

Wind in the willows; wind in the trees,
Whirling, twirling puffs of breeze.
Moans and Groans--from Pines in pain.
Whenever are we going to get some rain.

Cabin--May 28, 2013

It's the beginning of summer
And the rains were here.
It's like deja vu.
It happened last year.

Home:  June 24, 2013

It's summertime, and down it came--
This wet, dewy, damp, cold rain.
Out my streaky window is misty gloom.
But it's warm inside my cozy room.

Thinking of words that describe Rain:

restful, relinguishing, replenishing, rejuvenating, recurring, relishing, renduring, recycling,
reflecting.

Rain--Restful, relaxing, rejuvenating
    And here so seldom.
But relinguishing, replenishing, and recurring,
    And so very welcome.

Home:  January 9, 2014

Is that a ghost I hear wailing in the night?
But it brings me comfort instead of giving fright.
The cold moist air that covers the earth like a shroud,
Brings life back to the dry parched ground.

This poem surfaced while taking a shower after seeing a photo of the city on Facebook:
January 20, 2014:

Beautiful City.  Beautiful Skies.
All of this beauty is a bane in disguise.
Where is the rain that soaks the ground,
Nurturing all, so life will abound.

Home--Listening to the Rain on my window:  February 2, 2014

Pitter Patter, Pitter Patter--
It's music to my ears.
Whooshy washy, whooshy washy,
I want to give some cheers.

Dribbly Droplet, dribbly droplet,
on the window pane.
Hooray and Alleluia--
I'm thankful for the rain.

Home   February 26, 2014--On a rainy day.

The grey blanketed sky above,
  I really don't mind.
It brings peace and comfort to my soul,
   I find.
The misty rain has kept me home
  and inside.
Where I feel so content
  and very satisfied.

As the days moved on, and summer came when it hardly ever rains, I seemed to have
moved on to other worries and concerns, and somewhat numb to the drought conditions.
Now we all hope for El Nino this winter, but maybe in vain.

Traversing the City on Muni

My plan for the day was to go to the S.F. Public Library Main Branch downtown in the Civic Center to look up some names in the Reverse Telephone Directory.  I prefer going downtown on public transit, since there are too many automobiles clogging up the streets, but it is a long way from my house near the beach.  I asked my husband to drive me to Castro Street so we could look at Hattie Street, where Bill remembered visiting someone whose name I wanted to find at the Library.  From there I thought it would be fun to take one of the vintage cars on top of Market Street instead of going underground for the more rapid transit system.  It would bring back memories of when I traveled downtown in the '50's and '60's first on the old trolley's with outdoor seating änd "cow catchers" and then on the new green "stream-liners."

A green vintage car was about to leave Castro  and Market, so I ran to catch it.  Evidently, these street cars don't hurry like the Muni cars below.  I just had to slowly board the train, find the machine to swipe my Clipper card and then quietly find a seat.  This vintage car was maybe made in Italy, since I saw a sign which said "Italian" on the window.  It was very clean with shiny, polished wooden benches lined up against the large windows.  There were little dividers to mark off seating areas.  I sat down in the middle of the front area of the car and looked around.  There were several people already on board--a couple of men reading newspapers and a retired-looking couple who could have been tourists.

  More people boarded, some from the back.  Then a very unkempt man with an unsteady gait boarded in the front scrambling for some money to put into the fare box as he tried pulling up his falling pants.   The driver waited patiently 'til he succeeded.  I figured he was one of our homeless residents in the city and I thought to myself with dread, Ï hope he doesn't sit near me."  I couldn't bring myself to move further back, and sure enough, he sat right next to me with the little divider between us.  He reeked with so many noxious smells--cigarettes and alcohol mixed with sweaty foul odors.  I wanted to avoid him, but at the same time, I had to sneak a look as he sat talking to himself and looking at a newspaper with football scores lamenting about a bet he should have made.  His body was very thin and his skin heavily parched and dry.  A little cigarette butt stuck out of his teeth.  His clothes didn't look so bad--a nice heavy leather jacket, newish jeans and a blue baseball-type cap with straight, stringy, oily, blunt-cut light-brown hair falling to his shoulders from his cap.  Since his hair wasn't gray, I figure he had to be about 50 years old but looked much older than me.  I felt sorry for him and wished I could send him somewhere for a bath.  I heard him say out loud that he was trying to get to Sixth Street--that's where a lot of the itinerant, homeless folks live.  But I could not wait til I could get off at Civic Center."

Another, tall, young man, with a back-pack boarded the car after the homeless guy and walked straight back without stopping to give a fare.  The little driver got out of his seat with his arm on his hip and said loudly "Proof of Fare--you need proof of Fare." The kid came back, fumbling with his back pack, saying he didn't have any change.  I thought there was going to be some kind of altercation and I thought of giving the guy some change for the fare, but he walked back to the middle of the car, scrambled through his belongings and came up with some dollar bills.  He then went back to fill the fare box while the conductor stood firmly waiting for him the pay.  I felt some relief when the car started up, rattling down the street slowly passing  all the fancy shops that have sprung up in the lower Market Area.  Finally, my destination was nearing.  An elderly Asian lady with a large black-plastic bag bulging with some undefined items had boarded and when she got close, I gave up my seat.  When I was about to disembark the train, I looked back at her, and she seemed very content.  I then quickly got off at my stop and headed for the Library.   I thought to myself, "taking Muni is always an adventure of sorts--it's not only a means of transportation--it's a trip thru the cross-section of life in the Big City.