Merman Poem

Mermaids have fascinated me since I was a little girl. This is a twist on the traditional story. The photos are from trips I took to local beaches near me.

Merman

Reflections cast in a mirror

But, it’s not me I see

A girl with hair of gold

Eyes like the sea

Darkness, shadows in my eyes

As storms rage and then subside

Waves crash on the rocks of my heart

Pale as the sand the ocean wears

I search for him I call with eyes closed

 

Praying for him

He is the other half of me

He belongs to me as does the sea

He caresses me like the rain

Soft gentle kisses to numb my pain

On the rock where we met

I wait for him

 

In the strongest storms

I can feel him near

I taste him on the air

I run to the water

Hoping he’s still there

 

But, as I reach where he might have been

The calm of the water says

I’ve missed him again

And just like before

A white shell as promised,

I find 
 On the shore —

 

My rescuer has swam off again

Where he commands all that share his ocean den

His subjects do not reveal his place

On a bed of seaweed sleeping

He waits …for me.

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Pound of Flesh

While listening to the radio I formed the idea for this poem. The message of the song was an ending relationship but the lovers desperately tried one last time. I think most of us have been in that place at one time or another. Enjoy!

Pound of Flesh

And you said okay
And I said alright
We will do that dance
One last time tonight

I will pull you under
Into my skin
Press you closer
Feel you within

I will utter the words
That once filled me
I will listen to your voice
That once thrilled me

My pound of flesh
You will take
One more time
To fill the ache

You will dig deeper
Right into my center
I will embrace you
To make it feel better

My soft wet tears
Will slowly run free
Turning my head away
So you can’t see me

One last dance
One last night
One last time
For us…tonight

Written for me by me. Copyright. Phoenix Rises.

 

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Hope Poem

 

Hope
Concrete walls with spiraling wire
High perimeters guarding her
Fortress of strength
A woman’s defense
Encasing the shards
Protecting a fragmented heart

Burned tissue with eroded holes
Scars covering a wounded soul
Slowing beating wanting more
But the jailor remembers
Whispering in the night

Her jailor tells her to guard
Covet and protect us
In the darkness voices are heard
Remember the dreams we had?
Remember the plans we made?

Plans of girlish fantasy
Girlish dreams of dresses and dances
Flighty love and long romances
Once her heart longed for them all
But age and heartache came

After each of those losses
Walls were built
After every failure
Another wing was added
Sharp glistening metal
Encasing her heart

The loud thunder that once was
Has been muffled to a soft echo
The thrum of beating has slowed
Lights have dimmed
The guard at the door has left

Until a loud knock was heard
Sounds bellowed through the tomb
The heart began to beat once more
A slow steady thud of a hopeful heart

Written for me by me. Copyright. Phoenix Rises.

My Mermaid Heart Poem

This poem I have revisited several times over the past few months. The meaning is just as strong to me as it was when I first wrote it. I hope you enjoy it.

Mermaid Heart

Hidden dangers scatter my path

Cobbled stones filled with wrath

But I see the diamonds that glitter there

One is loose, one in a snare

Silence is the keeper of all dreams

Passion is the breaker of many things

But two locks always seem to find

The keys have run away with their minds

And who’s ship did I see go down?

The bust of maiden has run aground

I pillage it till it lays vacant inside

Organizing treasures as if I died

Once the sea starts turning its gown

Then my quiet heart is found

For all the oceans gifts to me

Start to fill their vacancy

I swim just under the wave

A hint of hair a hint of fin

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My Faithful Gardener 

His callous hands that are the product of hard work and diligence dig into the soil. He has just unearthed a giant chunk with his pitchfork and placed it to the side. He delicately frees the wiggling captives from the soil and places them into a bucket. The rocks that he sees go into a neighboring bucket. The rest of the soil is heaved onto a makeshift window frame that has been adorned with mesh wire and placed on a wheelbarrow. He uses the prow to carefully separate the soil and slowly sifts it free and clear of any blemishes. This is a tedious and careful affair but every year he preforms this ceremony.

The garden that blooms every year is one of his hobbies, but more than that it has become a living symbol of the person he is. The leaves he carefully collected during the fall will be placed in the giant hole he has created and then with a toss the worms join in. He will place the fine sifted soil on top and turn it over several times. The garden always yields a variety of fruits and vegetables. There are always two rows of tomatoes, two pepper rows one red and one green, squash, and green and wax beans. The strawberries are always designated a row, the blackberries line the outside of the fence next to the raspberries. The chives are always close to the gate, as a final afterthought for any salad maker.

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The two apple trees always provide shelter for hot summer days, but the peach, and plum tree are nothing to sneeze at. The two walnut trees in the front yard do yield a good deal of nuts, but the competition with the squirrels is fierce. He has added several rose bushes next to the front yard fence, and the honeysuckle bush has attracted quite a few little visitors over the years.

The garden was always a fascination for any visitor but most especially to me. The garden was a perfect showcase of his talents. He was always dutiful and consistent, two qualities that allowed for his garden to flourish year after year. These qualities were not the only ones he was gifted with. He was always patient, loving, gentle and kind. Anything he found lost or foundling he tried to mend. My mom always said this is how she ended up with their lamb Eddy. Eddy was going to be put down, when my grandpa heard this he decided to adopt the lamb. There were other animals along the way a couple of dogs, a cat, and some bunnies.

It should be no surprise to anyone that he came to mend me. I was only six when my parents got divorced and I was 11 when my father passed. Grandpa had already raised five children he certainly had earned a chance to rest. But, I was a foundling and he saw in me troubles that he thought he could fix. He was careful like always with his first sprouted seeds. Protecting them from the harsh sun and providing them with nutrients and care. He would keep a quiet eye on their progress but never quite left them alone. He was always a constant warmth even on the coldest of days. I miss him always but especially as the spring weather arrives and the flowers start to bloom. I want to thank you Grandpa for being my faithful gardener. I am sure I would not be half the person I am without your loving care. Happy birthday grandpa.