Posts Tagged ‘poetry-archives’

The Golden Rule

By Barb Abney

When what the world portends makes you blue,
To thine own lake be true.

COVID, war, work and school,
Can make your life seem less than cool.

Not to mention the price of fuel!
When it all seems just a little too cruel,

Remember Lucky’s Golden Rule –
To thine own lake be true.

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Generative Writing with Water

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Of our waterways, we are stewards; opportunities abound –

Do the wrong thing – conditions worsen

Partnerships produce plans – guiding authorities to

Do the right thing – responsible, logical, feasible

I write new poems in collaboration with bodies of water,
inspired by the sights and sounds of their shores.
I dip my poems into these sacred wells,
quickly retrieving revision.

Oceans, lakes, rivers, streams – sources of creativity, good health, life

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The Colors of Cane

By Michael Zahn

iPads are red,
TVs are blue,
get off that couch
we’ve got swimming to do!

Swimsuits are red,
swimsuits are blue,
physique is a factor,
and attitude, too —
a Speedo inspires
(and so does J.Crew)

Swim caps are orange,
swim caps are green.
Neon’s advantage:
You can be seen.
Neoprene’s great
if Cane’s temp is polar.
Ears turning blue?
Just yank it lower.

Tow floats are pink,
(yeah, some are yellow).
If shore’s afar,
and your core
turns to jello,
orange you glad
you brought your
buoy?
Yo!

Cane sky might blush red,
Cane clouds might blow blue,
no matter the weather
I love swimming
with you

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The Lucky Lake

By Michael Zahn

Lucky lake!
Our volunteers have made a vow
to help Cane cope
— right here, right now —
with Godzilla Hydrilla
(and Noxious Nitrate)
that choke and cloud,
make swimmers frown,
(could make our lake a burial ground).
But we stand fast
(swim even faster),
we swear that Cane
will shine, not fester.
In May each year,
hundreds race our Golden Mile.
They dread no depth,
they fear no reptile.
See the lively noisy splashy mob scene!
— as we raise cash to keep Cane clean.

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Water

By Carlton Johnson

I dive right
in wordless
and light
like tangerines in autumn
cresting the troughs
of tomorrow
and the day after
for the water is clear and
pure and permeates all
the wonders that I
can still see there is
wonder here and there
and there in the modest
of grief and suffering
we break the surface
and we all sink like pebbles
to a universe of one
only one begotten
and forgotten dream
to return

home

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In the Blink of an Eye, Gone!

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

We, the fish, would like a word. 1
We, the fish, ask you to knock it off. 1
liquid fertilizer release
toxic bloom torments the region
abnormal in size, strength, and severity
like a plague

Waters suffer a heart attack
massive fish kills
a first – animals, dead, on dry land
a stench hovers
human health compromised

Booming truths fall on deaf ears 2
Our Mother cannot fight back her tears
Florida get your act together
Stop arguing; work together
Problem solve; help us

The Mission: Waters everywhere
Swimmable. Fishable. Loveable. 3

Notes
1 https://www.tampabay.com/opinion/2021/07/16/we-the-fish-of-st-petersburgs-red-tide-ask-you-to-knock-it-off/
2 https://link.biblegateway.com/view/5ef509c547a9ee30313dc81aetrfp.6to/3a46576e
3 https://lakecane.com

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Frogman Nighttime 5k OPs

By Laura Cole

Frogman Nighttime 5k Ops
If you swim, you could be tops
Should you regard the feat amiss
The deepest dark liquid abyss

Water’s surface shimmering sheet
Know you not what lies beneath
But if you dare to take the challenge
‘Twixt faith and fear hold in the balance

When you emerge, what will you be?
Transformed into a frog maybe?
Some wretched form human or beast?
Or Salamander, the very least?

Come and swim it does entreat thee
But you fear, “It just may beat me!”
One thing is true, somehow you know…
This night, subdue your greatest foe!

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I love sloppy swimmers

By Michael Zahn

I love sloppy swimmers,
the swimmers who wobble,
the bathers who bobble,
whose strokes are not smooth.

Undaunted by taunting,
some slap the water,
can’t kick like a clock,
some could lose weight,
some can’t swim straight,
some are just dreaming
of post-swim cake.

These are my people!
Imperfect bodies,
imperfect souls,
accepting the fact
they’ll never win gold.

But still they show up,
wobbles, bobbles and all,
compelled to respond
to the water’s call.

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Glennie Halloween

By Gary Girolimon

Pumpkins glow with flickering light,
Open water turns as cold as fright.
A behemoth glides beneath the lake,
In bright moonlight you’ll see its wake;
When Glennie swims on Halloween night.

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A Day at the Lake

By Cheryl Van Beek

Sunrise winks over the water, wakes turtles,
lulls frogs to sleep under leafy sunbrellas.
A Great Egret ripples overhead, lands at lake’s edge.
Its cane-shaped head and neck reflect on the surface —
a white cloud, melting like time in a Dali painting.

Water lilies filter and cleanse the lake,
sprout buds like castle spires.
Whiffs of clover sail the breeze.
A Baltimore Oriole’s whistle-call
mingles with laughter, picnic chatter.

Sunset spills a glass of Rosé into the lake.
The moon glimpses its face in the mirror.
Branches scatter shadows of velvet slumber.
Frogs begin to sing.

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