Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Beach Poetry: Scenes 1-3

This is a "mini-series" of poems inspired by very personal feelings I won't disclose until I post the notes for this series later. "Scenes" I - III were written on October 7th, 2015.

SCENE I: "Coasting"

The only man I love now
Is more attainable than I’ve had.
Two years ago
I didn’t know that
I’d love the very same man
That to this day, I still don’t know.

He’s water.
I’m air.
We only meet up at the beach
And our foundation
Is no more stable
Than the sand.

He’s a water sign
Twenty thousand leagues deep.
A male siren
That can make me wax poetic
And will have me
Even though he doesn’t know me.

The best I can do
Is find the beach
He resides at intermittently.
His happiness is landlocked
But only because he’s yet to find
A gold coast that glitters too.

In my element,
I glide down to see him hug the sand
To no avail.
I assume he looks at me,
Smiles and thinks
“Silver’s not that bad a color.”

If a silver lining;
A reason to keep faith in something;
Certainty in something he has,
But no longer wants by itself;
I’ll be coasting for him
No matter how much it will hurt me.

SCENE II: "Planting the Umbrella"

The man I love, “Mr. Yellow Moon”
Wants to happily settle
On the gold coast that glitters too.
Planting the umbrella is an uphill battle
That takes his heart from him
And returns very little love.

I saw his unhappiness
When placated and misdirected anger
Polluted his heart.
Little did I know the breeze I caused
Rippled into something internal
I’ve yet to understand for myself.

When not swirling in my own head,
He surfaces from his heart
And emits notes only I can hear.
It’s a type of interaction
That elemental counsels don’t malign
But furrow their brows at.

For all the turmoil of late summer
That led to a gentle fall,
I still worry I’m green like spring.
Indeed I’ve asked myself:
If he’s “The Fish”
Am I his “Scales”?

Where we are now
Is a loaded question and then some.
Why do I wonder about him?
How am I still something to him
Even if he intermittently
“Sings” for me?

He’ll be lucky enough to live
On the gold coast that glitters too.
Though I don’t want to ask
If beyond all doubt…
I can be there to point
Where the best place to set up is.

SCENE III: "Praying to San Diego"

I made the mistake
Of internalizing hearsay
From one of the men named Joseph.
The hearsay was where
The gold coast that glitters too
Could actually be.

San Diego is where it’s said
“Mr. Yellow Moon” could pray
Once he settles.
I shouldn’t have seen
The vague “indicator” that he may
Want to settle southwest of Los Angeles.

The hearsay doesn’t kill me yet
But thinking about the “timeline”
Of pilgrimage from being landlocked
Does flood my head.
I can’t fully drown in this
As pragmatism (or something of the sort) prevents it.

I don’t know what could happen
One second from now
Let alone the alleged timeline
Of one year.
The messenger can only be damned
If you listen to them.

Even if what was said is true
This isn’t the first time
I’ve confronted hearsay.
The Wiccan insinuated that
“Mr. Yellow Moon” is only enchanted
By alpha males and perfection.

I’m not perfect and I have no desire to be.
Nor am I dumb enough to think
“Mr. Yellow Moon” is perfect
And he is not ignorant in thinking
He’s perfect himself.
All I am now is a fan praying to San Antonio.

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