Quotes about oceanic, page 5
Gallivants Nigh
Gallivants Nigh
His broken roads to faraway, but not to safety
fair in advance, a violent gain, of his eternity,
there, he seeks his childhood's white clouds,
why ocean-paths are ornaments of shrouds?
And then I ask you, glorious beauty, to adore,
about routes that I have chosen back before,
years guided me back, to opaline nacreous -
darkened mislays old, of my strength ominous.
Shrills of Ghosts belt down anything gleaming,
and hopes, to dusk in dreams again, dimming,
to abate in Stygian trips, of a inside emptiness,
consent Styx darkness, renounce brightness.
Pearlescent were our trips, along Milky way,
beaming on oceanic paths, our youth's eyes,
we never knew that unassailable they will be,
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Illicit But Indulge Not
antique hard the spherical tilt
bowed down palm-beach stretched to meet the furnace
cool but crawling to burn
here I stop the definite deviation of flickering
smoke dense with quick blow darkened my hesitant pulse
a strong snailing deared her paws to make me smacked
first an essence intense to embrace the budding ignition
posthumus a moon guarded our optimum metabolism
with tender beams flashed curls from the oceanic fantasies
stammering beads penetrated the ribs of my chest
couldn't I hold the spasm to grip beauty but bold
eruption eliminated all hidings dormant into soul
blatant imposition of the treasure I trecherous
bit the bugle of chastity while stripped off
legacy she ordained with so many banners
lied we lied on the floor of sand
hunting eagle pierced the clarity
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poem by Pranab K. Chakraborty
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Stardust
Ah high flyin highway mist
Tran
-ce-
(s)
-lucent
i
q
u
i
d of
S(s) P(p) A(a) C (c) E(e)
stardusts orange vapor: : : :
...now receding...off...towards some faraway
fiery conquest …
the horizons invisible duel
Roadside window passing reflections
like a double edge sword of silk and flame
over the old corn row country road
Love's unseen aura penetrating
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poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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Supplication To Rama
In the panoptic yard of my heart's aroma
Deep seated Thee o' Rama
Coronated and with crowned Sita
Past afforested treads of Thy life's data
My heart is sanguine, sunny and unfilthy
As Thy pristine persona is hearty
Ploughing my thoughts a nitty-gritty
Thy bio of Thy Ikshvaku dynasty
All well known of Thou radiance
The hub of cosmos Thy resplendence
Thou wedlock to Sita by ritual relevence
Thou woodland days of perseverance
Also of Thou oceanic valorous conquest
Vanquishing Ravana of southmost
Retrieving Sita, a notable feat
Back to throne endlessly at Thou behest..
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poem by Indira Renganathan
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Oceanic
As your pliant hands resurge
every night of oblivion
no matter how terse,
no matter salient,
your flagrant subtlety
jeopardizes my frailty
and these obdurate sea walls
can never be your frontier
You are the sapphire ocean -
the unrivaled beauty of its infinity,
the moon on its stark reflection,
the enigma of its moonless nights,
the soigné tremors on its skin,
the lulls of its horizontal vertigo,
and the peril of its silence
You are the azure pall
of my lonely drowning planet
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poem by Norman Santos
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Saturnalia
He picked up his cigarette
With his nimble hands
And dropped his malaise
On his nimbus smile
He moored his trepidation
Amidst looming trees
Sated with voraciousness
Gaunt as his mortality
They tread a rivulet
Of agog prancing fire
And picked up his ashes
In his sinewy veins
And fanned his qualms
In a tacit realm
He plucked out a thorn
Riveted in his rib cage
And stomped on the fertility
Of the garden in his hands
Unsullied but squalid
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poem by Norman Santos
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An Ocean above the Ocean
My ship sailing motionless -
I felt that I'm blessed with a notion
of being placed in a divine place,
an ocean high above the earthly ocean
on which cruising clouds crowded as
hyacinths floating on a windy surface.
Icebergs peaking high, their snowcaps
threatening a tremendous wreck, yet
I found that foamy type froth - smooth
to trade through, palpable and so near
still untouchable, my wishes remained
unquenched. I remained in a motionless ship.
This gateway to the galaxy opened
an ecstatic horizon - dream to reach
that ethereal level, sun grinning, beaming
on floating aquatics, I marveled the wonder
of finding a hovering fantasy so real, so high
above the ocean to find my ocean of clouds;
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poem by Gautam Sen
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Peach Knoll
Peach Knoll
A poem diffused in mid air, and the fog
to dropp off; to honor skies was our call,
attending a vow; there I recall our song,
comely ode, to recreate on Peach Knoll;
Up there we walked; O, so many stories
to recount; every detail was accurate,
amidst the trees, under a nightly Aries,
so many feelings, a night cold to equate.
How many trips we described in acuity,
and ports we reached in paths oceanic,
with our glary eyes staring to continuity,
and my nautical departure to Atlantic;
There we stayed; amidst the night trees,
our images to ascend a dream sceptic,
in trustful years, it was a simple breeze,
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poem by Giorgio Veneto
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An Interesting Ancestry
To some of us, a tortoise lives on land
while turtles only rarely leave the sea.
‘Chelonians' applies to any brand,
so here I'll use this terminology.
Land dwellers share aquatic ancestry
and most of us decided to stay put.
Chelonians agreed to disagree.
A flippered revolution was afoot.
A late Triassic turtle fossil shows
a hard-shelled belly plate and softer back,
presumably to ward off fatal blows
from deeper-dwelling predators' attack.
Did top shell metaphorically ‘dissolve'
when full-shelled forebear sought the sea's embrace?
Or did an unshelled forebear's shell evolve
in oceanic pilgrimage retrace?
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poem by Diane Hine
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The Ocean I know!
I know it to be true
That the ocean sea is blue
I know it to be true
The mountains compliment the ocean
The fountains supplement the ocean
I know it to be true
The ocean is extremely salty
Inhabited by fishes of various faculties
I know it to be true
The ocean is a source of food and minerals
Embellished with floors of pearls, shells and corals
I know it to be true;
That infinite battles have been fought
Across stormy tidal and calmly ocean waves
Where slaves have been sold and bought
With freedom won not merely by a simple handshake
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poem by Sylvia Chidi
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