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harbour

drifting in this cosmic womb of rain

to you, this harbour beneath the shore

my mind resigning its weight, a bare jewel afloat,

to kelp fields, dense and fragments dark,

guiding in this underwater dance floor

traversing through your canopies wild

seasons unfold before my eyes

gardens spring blooms from a winter’s release

while the sequoias of the sea lend me their lean, serenely keen to the sun drenched skies

cerulean paves these streets of peace

as buckets of wings residing beneath the sails of tide

to antiquities void of a pirate’s lore

filling my lungs along this cathartic ride

straying further and further from the salty fits that marry my skin ashore

i fall deeper and deeper into this estuary

where a love evolves, where my heart explores

slipping into frocks left behind of mermaids best

the ballroom awaits as i untether my weathered steps

to which it replies, please, be my guest

swimming anext urchins as they needfully feed

watching otters safely sleep between the holdfast trees

i am but a visitor but a resident akin

to this underwater sanctuary that wishes me au revoir

after welcoming me with ease

This piece was inspired from watching the documentary, My Octopus Teacher featuring the kelp forests of South Africa. Filmmaker and photographer, Craig Foster begins a year long journey studying and ultimately befriending an octopus living within the kelp forest. It is beautiful and heartfelt as well as an educational piece that I would recommend giving a watch.

In writing this I imagined and truly listened to the testimony of Foster of just how magical skin diving and traversing through this underwater garden becomes to the soul. Daily stresses seem to become weightless, as trees, anchored and wise, become our guides.

The images shared within this piece are that of Foster captured during his journey within the forests in South Africa.

Kelp forests, these beautiful underwater oasis’s, are endangered, mostly so by threats from fisheries, marine pollution, invasive species and climate change. If you’d like to learn more about the ambassadors of the sea check out Sea Change Project. The group, of which Foster is a member of, is striving to educate and protect the ecosystem that is a sanctuary and home to many marine animals and wildlife.

Thank you for reading.

Harbour-Sohn

just breathe

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braids

the fabric of my bones

these places weaving in and through to you

where evergreens whisper, liken their leaves to call

 

in broken trails now enchanted, blushing blooms braiding to my heart

to ravens licking moonlight, in lush romantic song

 

the fabric of my bones

these places weaving in and through to you

keeping you close, keeping you whole

for me to remember, for you to kiss my soul

Blackmill-Gaia

Image by Brian Kirhagis

 

Black logo - no background

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odyssey

the quiet lean of a lover’s need

reveals itself in steps unseen

for love is sure, a patience that rests between

the twilight flecks of painted citrine

to scarlet lights standing guard, flooding shade so as to offer the way

beyond night’s odyssey, where it awakens, setting sail to a new day….

Daniela SpectorLife Long Odyssey

Captured these images near and at the site of Old Point Comfort Lighthouse that stands guard along the Chesapeake Bay. As the second oldest lighthouse in the bay and still operational, it’s characteristic red light appeals to the romantic in me. Can you not imagine two lovers being separated by the sea and he, through raging waters awakens to the light of her heart warming his sea-chilled skin, calling out to him, leading him to safer waters, to shore, to her waiting love.

I hope you enjoyed the journey and a special thanks to Laura lauradenise.home.blog for inspiring me to combine my love of poetry and photography in this piece. Her “walks” are healing wonders!

Thank you for reading and for more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.

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oz

collecting always collecting

those pocket-watch of moments

where we cried

where we grew

taking steps forward

holding hands in those backwards ones too

painting dead end rainbows

into yellow brick roads

where lions and red ruby slippers

fought off the relentless hungry toads

chasing storms even as the winds blew

watching as those colors bled

its there I saw this you

in truth a beauty to behold

in this a quest

of renewable hues

Perfect CureGalaxy Dynamite

 

this musical selection I’ve paired with my words here I’m proud to announce is my nephew’s band whom also are the inspiration behind the band in my first romance novel, Shifting Gears. The image I captured along a country road just after the rain as I was chasing trees. For more of my photography you can find my gallery here

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losing a religion

you almost made it be

losing this religion that brides within me

scriptures perching throughout the trees

a braille for these blinded eyes to struggle and see

waiting like tombs simply to be freed

fingers weeping, longing within this recluse of me

paled to the dreams fighting against the every day

baptized in a fire, soaked in the flames

confessing to centuries of monotony

                                                        ….you almost made it be

 

-just breathe-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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benthos

beyond the shallows

where your waves steep

extracting the flavors of the sea

in the rush of darkness,

i bloom most silently

into this garden of benthos, a blushing bride i become

where you in most ardent steps nakedly roam

clutching the tapestry of emeralds woven about my hair

draping upon the coral of my cheeks lending glitter to the foam

 

cradling the brine that blankets the secrets that i keep

where empty forests speak the language of me

and you, with lips of atlantis, unearth the diamonds of my deep

 

Surfing the Ether-Peter Pearson

This piece was inspired by a daily writing prompt I participate in where the word given was benthos. I’d no idea what it meant. Even in asking a friend, she was clueless too. Upon looking it up naturally said friend was jubilant at the fact she could now use newly discovered word in a game of Words With Friends.

I include this editorial here to express my adoration and appreciation for writing prompts. Not only do they expand my vocabulary, they push me out of my comfort zone in my writing. They have become a powerful ally in strengthening my writing and I encourage the participation with one.

As always, thank you for reading.

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mirror

lace puddles

weave between the weeds of the sea

lapping slowly

gingerly

resting upon the shallows in she

barefoot in silt paths she roams

collecting pieces

from the liquid mirror shored

——for the sea remembers

captured these images from a day on the beach and was enraptured at how I was able to capture the cerulean in the waves. i’m thankful that in living on the coast, the ocean is in my backyard. like for most, the music of the waves is medicinal, replenishing ones soul. For more of my photography you can visit my gallery here.

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fly

this air we breathe

it carries me

beyond the clutter

of unspoken dreams

to this forest overgrowing in me

lending thread from thatch and moss

sewing wings

from leaves of most archaic of trees

-just breathe-

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maya

that bird upon my sill

o what silly one is he

so much he sings in that trumpet voice

in morning’s glory when all is still

o what silly one is he

for nobody hears his revelry

that song with no answers he sings

o but wait, the sun, there is she

rising there, quietly

yet not one glance he gives

in his confident rise

This week has been a difficult yet I hope, eye opening one for us all. A few days ago a fellow writer triggered my thoughts in asking “who was your first black teacher?” This piece was inspired by a poet I was introduced to in the fourth grade by my very first black teacher, Mrs. Baker.

It is always my English teachers that stand out to me during my school years and she is no exception. She introduced us to the works of Robert Frost, Emily Dickinson and the poet from which this piece is inspired, Maya Angelou. Inspired from her piece, And Still I Rise, I wrote maya reflecting upon that silly yet wise bird in us all with that small, seemingly insignificant voice, yet finding the courage to keep singing, even when you are pretty certain no one is listening.