king of the sea

he was die-hard
far from anyone imagination
he was a freak

had a something to fulfill


in the silence of nobody
unsettled the settled
disturb all the rituals of beauty
that's what he wanted


he entered in the world of treasure
treasure, maybe he got something
that's what we called that place
but for him
it was a place for match
it was a place
where all the reality converge
where all the chirping of birds
and nature come together


he entered into the sea
with his ship named 'tomodachi'
cause it was all about go with splendor
and in that sparking parallel world
feel everything
where waves mixes and 
can become friendly, 

can make some enemy 


they fought with the storm together
they fought with nature together
they fought with others together
they saw the group of birds
leaving together


his tomodachi got damaged
he wounded badly
but holding his comrades he said
" we are in beauty
we are in art of nature
so lets make our own history
friendly, ahhh! it hurts"

 i finally found my treasure


come to the ocean you will find it too"

I'm the king, king of this ocean

somesay you will know 

it's meaning too

Author's Notes/Comments: 

he found his treasure in the beauty of ocean ...what was it can anybody think of it

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The Behemoth, Submerged

He's thankfully placid, continent-sized;
eyeless in hide with maw opened wide -
able to drain with a swallow such seas
that dot all our nations and drown us in reeds.
Momentum from current and liquefied air
that pull all his mass, abyssal to snares
caught on his bulk from boats with their winches,
torn down to depths in sways made of inches.
As per his drifting, his marginal 'lax,
creatures don't fear, nor dare they attack;
but come to conform, so tapered and dull,
swirling in droves about the flesh of his hull.
Blind to the sunlight or its absence in dark,
wading at ease with immensity stark
against the frontier of blues and of black,
with faint little glimmers that peck at his back.
And shy as he isn't, soundless he is;
his traveling porous like something candid,
with gears beyond grasp affixed to his lid
that grind without oil or layout or grid.
Though only a moment, this moment he'd pause,
and rear up his snout in something like awe
of shimmering surface that houses the sky
and stars made to glimpse when darkness is nigh.
In this reprieve, a clear thought has course:
the behemoth recalls a familiar remorse.
The twinkle obscured by thrashing of waves
gives rise to a knowing that's buried in haze.
But just as his interest seems piqued and affixed,
he begins a descent, inattentive to quick
and flitting small life that must flee from below,
just as they'd done when he'd come long ago.

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Ondine: A Tale of the Sea

Narrative Poems

Deep oceans dwelt in her soft cadenced
breathing, and the song of the seagull
strained in her hair, and her eyes had the hues
of the sunset as they sank in the distance
in hazel-brown skies.

She came unexpected, entangled in weeds,
caught in the net of a sad-eyed fisherman,
and her song had the call of the ocean,
and the call of the wave, and was heard

by all creatures that live in the deep:
the fisherman's nets now are crowded galore!
Bass, salmon, and lobster, bewitched by the song
of the girl who came from the sea!

They made love in his cabin, off the west coast
of Ire, the girl from the ocean and the sad-eyed
fisherman. And her sighs were like magic,
like the surf on the beach, and her moans were
like breakers that broke on the cliffs of his heart.

He was caught in the foam of her spell-binding
songs, caught in the strands of her sand-colored
hair, caught in the breeze of her lips, and the fish

in her mouth, as they loved in his cabin off the west
coast of Ire, and the tide of the ocean, and the wind
of the sea, and the sighs of the girl stole right
into his heart.

Now the cabin lies empty, struck by the wind,
and the waves of the ocean, and the tides
of the sea, and a song that bewitches

can be heard in the distance, in hazel-brown
skies, which glow like the eyes of the girl
who came from the sea.

(c) Copyright Jim Valero, 2012.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is written in ballad style. It employs cadence, rather than strict meter, to create evocative rhythms. As you read it aloud, you will notice the cadences and the textures built by sound effects like assonance, alliteration, and so on. Repetition works to create a longing, melancholy feeling in this ballad about a mysterious love by the shores of lovely Ireland.

Waves, Take me Away

Foamy waters, wave at me

Smiling from across the sea

Glistening with joyous glee

Oceans, hear my calling plea

Bring me to your harmony

I’ll breathe the air that sets me free

And spend my days with just thee

Me and my best friend, the sea

We’re as alike as two can be.

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Beach me with the monster whales,
their chassis born through globular entrails
and digested by the sand beneath
with crabs a-scurry on sidewinder feet.
The sun a beacon of peeling skin,
with wretched mention of cancers within,
and a fevered shake, blistered too
with bubbles that burst by light of full moon.
Hermits grow in shade of shells,
content and confined until next they may dwell.
Seagulls bend and fall from the blue
with talons outstretched with beads on sinew.
The caws and the clacks surround, abound
and leave me entrenched by sounds of wet ground.
So happy, rotting; stenches be damned ---
I'll burrow like urchin to be away from the land.

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Along the Oceanic Shoreline




I sit at ease


along the oceanic shoreline


and let it all soak in-


the waves that roll like quiet thunder


the endless sea horizon


the seagulls crying as they fly


the clouds that mark a sunlit sky


the warm hot summer wind.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

Drawn from my childhood recollections of time alone in the morning, sitting on a hot beach in Florida as I read my Bible.

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Ocean of Sorrow

Everyday I feel the pressure of the lies... Because I have no answer to life's whys.
Drifting through a troubled sea... Consisting of my many faults, it seems.
Ships sail by, and never stop to see... If I might need some help, but only laugh with glee.
Trying to reach the closest vessel... But this ocean of sorrow requires all of my strength to wrestle.
I want to reach out, to call for a savior... But I can't deviate from my constructed behavior.
And I hope for peace, but to my fate I'm resigned... Because I know in my heart...it's something I'll never find.
So I wait, and hope for a sign... From someone...anyone...benign.
Everyday I feel the pressure of the lies... Because I stopped looking for answers to life's whys.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Another poem I wrote a while ago. Feedback would be appreciated, hope you like it!

Life's Nature

Breathe with the world
Be intentionally guided 
O'er land and sea and wind

When deepest of calms
Your soul overtakes
Peace does grow within

A light in the eye
Exotic in nature
A thirst for the ways of the world

Foundation provided
Cannot be derided
Your life awaits your whim

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The Fisherman and Her Bones

Last night
I wished you were a mermaid.
I wished my arms were oceans
you would swim in.

I would spend my days
on boats named after you,
throwing hooks shaped after you in the water
while the sun
hangs over head
yawning like a weary traveler,
prayinghopingwishing you would bite
so I could take you home with me.

At night
I'll watch the sky spark,
struggling to keep up with you
while I fight off the fishermen
that want you for themselves.

I'll scatter parts of me
across anything resembling water
so you can find me wherever you go
and wherever you go
I hope your heart beats loud enough
for me to hear
across continents.

I'll fill a tub with the sea
and things to make you feel at home
even though
they won't be good enough.

When I say your name out loud
I'll wish that I could breathe under water
because I know that someday
when our bones no longer
fit into each other

I'll have to throw you back.

© 2011 Patrick Szajner

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