I Found an Acorn in my Teacup

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Day 7 Prompt: a poem about luck and fortuitousness

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how it faired. Was in put there by a small boy hiding outdoors from his brother? Was it put there by a young girl infatuated with her lover? What secret does the acorn hold in its placement in my cup? Would I have to consult the ocean to bring me clarity? And why such a thing be suddenly linked to tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered how I could be so lucky. Was it the luck of finding money folded in a purse not used in many months? Was it the luck of finding a winning fortune in my Chinese fortune cookie? Was it the luck of seeing money falling out of the pocket of a girl in tight pants? Were her cheeks offering me money, knowing I needed tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and wondered about love. Would it always be a one-sided mystery fraught with tears and disappointment? Did love begin like the small seed acorn and then grow strong into a tree? Would I ever find my soulmate? You know, the one just for me? Would I spend my life mourning lovers and forever crying in my tea?

I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Love, light and fleeting, like a small bird in flight will find me. Love, true and binding, lasting through time and space will be mine. Love will tangle our hearts and lives together like the glistening spider web. We will spoon and cuddle, ever close, in the small, warm kitty bed.

I found an acorn in my teacup and I thought, “lucky me!” Someday my luck will change. My happy tears will fall like diamonds in the glimmering sea. Joy and laughter will fill the air, forever following me. I’ll be loved and warmly cherished. I’ll be invited in for tea.

7 Ways of Looking at the Sea #napowrimo #ocean #follybeach #amwriting #amreading

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Her cool briny fingers touched my face
while she kissed my lips with salty breezes.
I was her and she was me.
I am the sea.

From the depths of the abyss dry bones rattle.
Monstrous fish of the deep mouth them looking for scraps of flesh.
The sea makes a watery grave as it gives food to those living there.

Men frolic and play where they should not.
Their playground is my home.
We connect in violence, teeth and blood.
I’m usually the victor.
It’s my habitat, you see.
Shark and man can’t live together in the bath that is the sea.

When sea and wind bind angrily together,
They scheme to take the souls of men and
make matchsticks of their wooden vessels.
When sea and wind bind angrily together,
the perfect storm is formed.

I’m waiting for you.
I’m churning and angry.
I grab your ankles and rip your footing away.
I’m a joker.
I give you just one way to get away but first, you come with me.
I’ll let you go.
I promise.
I’m the riptide of the sea.

Into the abyss
dark and deep is man’s lost soul
albino seas bloom.

The din of the world can be hard on the soul.
It confuses the mind with tangled thoughts and broken dreams.
Come to me and let my waves wash over you making all things grey.
Let my salt breezes cleanse your soul and quiet your mind.
In my wake is the clarity of sea worms and coral.
Shells and sand can scrub out the blemishes of a dark life.
Enter my depths and let the ebb and flow make tunnels under your feet.
Leave me then, quiet and still, thankful for the rabbles’ end.
I am the sea.
I am all things to some men.

The Deepness of the Sea

fangtooth-fish-78210The Deepness of the Sea cannot be measured.

It holds secrets forever, lost in the watery abyss.

Lean over the edge and whisper it in.

Forever it will be sailing downward, downward to inky blackness.

Blackness where the white things are.  Albinoed and spiked and many teethed.

Blackness where the monsters are. Blackness where man cannot reach.

Lean over and whisper it in and feel the release.  The release of the sea.

Water and brine and chutes of steam and caverns.

Whisper it in and feel the release.

Feel the release of the deepness of the sea.
NaPoWriMo #3 #napowrimo

The Wind Down

It has been a day. Tiring. Boring. Exhausting.
Familiar ailments increased my malaise.
Good intentions went unfulfilled.
They will wait for another day.

Jangled and jargled is my only nerve.
I need the sea and the call of the timeless waves.
I need to breathe deep the salt of the sea and dive.
Dive into the salty depths of the hypnotic drone of crashing.

It has been a day. Tiring. Boring. Exhausting.
Only a poor substitute do I have.
It will do…given my clipped wings.

Swirling, deep caramel aromas fill the air.
Down the roan liquid goes, warm and sweet.
Wait.
Wait.
There it is.
An easing, a dulling, a blurred edge.

Tomorrow is a new day with a new nerve.
Tomorrow is a new day with new intentions.
Tomorrow.

Now finally, I feel the call of sleep.
I listen to my waves of the sea,
artificially infused into the air by my ipod.

It will do.
I need the sea.
I brought it to me.

I lay visualizing the roaring water,
foaming and glinting from the sun.
It has been a day.
Tiring. Boring. Exhausting.
Hope for a new tomorrow has begun.