The Ocean Is Calling Me

Small fishing boat
Image via Wikipedia

By the ocean
is where I want to be,

With sand
dunes and ocean breeze,

Calling out
to me,

The cry of
gull and bark of seal,

Are calling
me home,

Where I can

I must
return where the ocean pounds,

For I can’t
find peace,

ocean sounds.


It had been
so long since Caleb left.  He remembered
driving through the woods, watching the mountains slip away in his rear mirror until
he was on flat land in a farming paradise.
The scenery was almost the same in every direction.  There were no nearby mountains.  There were a few trees and houses, just the
way he liked it. At least that’s what he thought at the time.

Caleb’s life
changed drastically. He endured several years of freezing cold and ice storms.  He also endured springs and summers of
torrential downpours, floods, tornados, and sticky humidity.  The weather was not a factor in his decision
to stay or go.  Not yet.

The flatland was good for farming and it did
not wrap its tentacles around him like the sea did.  The sounds and smells of the sea grabbed him
when he was young and made an impression. The rhythmic waves gently rocked him
to sleep. The beach and ocean became his playground.  Later it was his mistress. And in the back of
his mind he knew that someday it would be his grave.  The sea would wait patiently through his complete
life cycle, from birth to death, expecting him to eventually return to the only
home he really understood.

As the years
dragged by, he grew increasingly lonely but he understood his need. The thing
missing in his life was a good woman, one who would pull him to her bosom and
give him a sense of security.  The women who
lived by the sea and those on flatland were so different. Those by the coast
loved quicker, more fervently, because they understood their men would be
called by the sea and could get lost at sea.
Flatlanders usually chose farmers, men who would stay put, men who would
be content raising wheat, corn, and kids.

He adjusted
to the slower and richer style of loving and eventually he found a woman whose
heart was tender and made him feel loved.
They watched sunsets and dawns, made love passionately, and communicated
endlessly.  Life was perfect and the world
rotated every day.

But one day his world stopped cold. A blizzard
hit while he was in town getting supplies.  He struggled homeward but did not arrive until
early afternoon the next day.  She didn’t
come out to greet him, and the house was cold.

He searched
frantically but to no avail. Friends joined in the search.  She was found lying near the barn, her arms
wrapped around a frozen calf.  Guilt
overwhelmed him.  “That was my job,” he
thought, “getting all the animals inside.”
That thought tormented him more and more.  As he withdrew into his shell his friends
stopped visiting.  They wondered why he
was becoming inaccessible.  He thought
they blamed him for his wife’s death.

The things he
liked about the sea were coming back to haunt him.  Every night he could hear the relentless pounding
of the waves, see the pelicans dipping low as they flew between the swells.  And that salty smell was there in his
room.  The sea was calling him, urging
him to climb aboard a fishing boat and sail out of the harbor, away from the
safety of the shore.

“Why should
I go?” he asked himself. The question remained, unanswered, frozen in the cold
air.  But Immediately another question
rose.”Why should I stay?”

Finally Caleb’s
mind was made and he prepared to rid himself of the farm and its memories. He
sold what he could and gave away the rest.
There was nothing left for him there in the flatlands.  Whenever he saw fields of wheat dancing with
the wind, he was reminded of ocean swells.
Whenever he saw a sunset or dawn, he wished he could see the sun hanging
just over the horizon with a ship sailing somewhere.

The sea was his mistress again and each day she
was calling, calling him back to where he belonged, back to her open arms.  There were new adventures waiting, new
adventures that would help him forget the flatlands and teach him that love once
lost can sometimes be found again.  His
will to live had suffered a blow.  Now he
was willing to dare, to face danger, to love recklessly.  Tomorrow he would set sail and he didn’t care

(To be


I’ve Planted Flowers Along the Way

A poster with twelve species of flowers or clu...
Image via Wikipedia

My path has varied from time to time,

The mountains chosen were hard to climb,,

There are tasks I wish I’d done,

And things I wish I’d left undone,

But there were flowers along the way,

And strings of lights as bright as day,

Within the poems I wish I’d said,

The secrets of journeys where my path led, 

 I didn’t go to many faraway lands,

And learn the languages to understand,

But hearts I’ve touched with silver words,

Encouraged the forlorn with things they heard,

There are flowers I’ve planted where I’ve stayed,

And lights that twinkle where I’ve strayed,

 I may have wandered far and wide,

Yet I’ve learned to take life in stride,

I’ve tried to help those I saw in need,

Gave them strength, from bondage freed,

 I’ve planted flowers along the way,

And fastened lights as bright as day,

I don’t know what tomorrow will bring,

Though a twisted past I wouldn’t change a thing,

If you touch others with your words,

Let it resonate with all you’ve heard.

Push With Toes, Pull With Fingers

Push With Toes, Pull With Fingers

(Nighttime Insanity)

I am disappointed,

I thought you were the one,

I didn’t think you would take,

My heart and simply run,

You’ve left me with nothing but memories,

The world looked the same today as I made my rounds,

But within these walls my loneliness abounds,

My thoughts are well beyond repair,

I sink deeper and deeper into despair,

And louder and louder my heart pounds,

There is motion but it is within me,

My head is spinning, wild and free,

Distraught is how I might describe myself,

Not that I am bad or crazy,

Worthless or weak, but human,

Trying to sort out life,

And sort out our strife,

 In a compressed span of time,

Your words painted me a picture,

A truly great work of art,

How you would love me forever,

Instead you broke my heart,

Your words I don’t want to keep,

I close my eyes and try to sleep,

 But my feet and legs twitch,

I try to and picture a peaceful mountain far away,

But I am compelled to ascend,

Grabbing knobs and buttresses that rise into the sky,

I can’t do this, let another night go by,

Acrophobia, possibility of hypothermia,

Push with toes, pull with fingers, don’t slip,

I’m falling into a vast crevasse, I’ve lost my grip,

My eyes pop open, I reach for you,

Why don’t I go and search for someone, anyone would do,

 Just don’t be alone,

I imagine going out,

But I’m indecisive, there is doubt,

 If I found you, or if I didn’t,

I didn’t know which would be worse,

I lie down again, and I silently curse,

I’m weary and fall asleep,

But tension won’t let peace keep,

And I’m fighting for my sanity to save,

I’m in the yawning mouth of a cave,

The temperature drops and all is quiet and dark,

My reasoning is off its mark,

Time seems to have stopped,

My breathing is soft and measured,

Claustrophobia, possibility of hypothermia,

Push with toes, pull with fingers,

Wriggle your way forward,

Relax, exhale, you’re stuck,

 Stuck like a cork in a bottle,

I guess you’re out of luck,

But no, I rise to meet the dawning,

I’ll begin my life anew,

My life has lost its meaning,

There will never be another you.

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