Posts Tagged ‘poetry-winner’

Life-giving Water

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

A whisper from stream’s rush
becomes booming, deeper truths,
shouted by a pounding surf

She never turned a deaf ear
to solar psalms and moon mantras:

In lack, excess;
in punishment, rewards;
in a threat (cancer), possibility.

The ocean holds the key to her survival;
sunlight dances on the promise of her future.

When the world forgets, she remembers-

The ocean is among the best medicines.

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea.1

Thousands have lived without love, not one without water.2
She has both.

Notes
1 Isak Dinesen
2 W.H. Auden

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Drink in the Waters

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Drink in the Waters

Ubiquitous

bountiful bays
luminous lakes
nourishing narrows

clear, cool creeks
swift, shallow streams

Rushing rivers
carve colorful canyons from
roily rock

Rough rapids
refresh and renew;
foaming falls’
resolution
serene seas

Best medicines

© May 2019 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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First Lake Crossing

By Barbara Giles

Splashing bodies glide into the deep.
Face beneath the water. Pulse takes a leap.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Fingers graze an object! Swelling sense of dread.
Monsters under water? Or only in my head.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Red orb floating. I can make it there.
Reach the halfway point. Now I can take some air.
Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

Back under the water. Mind under control.
Back under the water before the day takes its toll.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Middle of the lake. All alone out here.
Glancing to the distant shore. All I feel is fear.
Breathe stroke stroke breathe.

Reaching finish dock. Kick the fears away.
Face towards the rising sun. Time to face the day.
Breathe.

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Water Seen

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

Pastel hues of orange and yellow gently herald sunrise;
morning lifts its misty veil from water’s edge.

browns, blacks, whites
varying sizes and shapes
indigenous or immigrant
birds of a feather…
go their separate ways seeking delights that lie below the surface.

Heads and/or bodies submerge
surface somewhat satisfied

but one, unidentified caring heart
silently signals “There’s great eating over heeeere!”

their differences aside
they come together
to feed from the underwater abundance;
demonstrating there can be harmony among us.

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Flow

By Samia Diouri

I want flow like water,
Find my path of least resistance,
Recognition of my reflection in others,
In the ripples of consciousness,
Know my soul is a drop in the ocean,
And my love is a river,
My wounds are but canyons etched over time,
I let go and resign to the rain filled valleys,
And surrender to the divine.

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The Corona-cation Chronicles Day Thirty-six

By Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

There is calm in a rain
that keeps one still;
drizzle or deluge
off leaves drops spill.

And when the rain stops,
there’s calm there, too.
On a drip tip rests
a watery bijou.

My eyes are riveted
on this delicate balancing act;
calm in anticipation
of its longevity protract.

And just like that,
the droplet falls to the ground
where it does the most good
and in this my calm is most profound.

© June 2020 Suzanne S. Austin-Hill

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Look to the Lake

By Brady Estrada

While the calm waters reflect our empty streets
and the rough waters reflect our busy hospitals,
in these uncertain times, we look to the Lake

we are Balancing this new life of doing nothing
and knowing that there is nothing we can do

nothing but stay home
nothing but look to the Lake

the water connects us from one side to the other
and while its bed is often more than six feet from its surface
it remains one Unified body

in these uncertain times, what we lack in proximity
we must make up for in Togetherness

so we look to the things that remain unchanged
we look to the Lake

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Whose lake this is . . .

By Michael Zahn

“The individual property owners whose holdings surround Lake Cane have vested property rights in the lake itself” — quote from “Water Rights in Florida”

Whose lake this is, I think I know:
The residents that swim below
or ride the pulsing winds that blow
and stir the waves where others ride
and rustle weeds where sly ones lurk
(and shy ones hide)

Whose lake this is, I think I know —
we see their spoor
and hear their caws and croaks,
their screeches, hoots and grunts and growls,
their pants and burps and barks and howls
(beware their hisses and their snarls)

Whose lake this is, I think I know:
Creatures who possess no title,
no paper trail, no deed on file.
Though the lake’s their domicile,
they cannot claim their rights at trial.
They cannot swear an oath
in court of law
by raising fin or wing or paw.
Their testimony goes unheard
for lack of speech, for lack of word
while progress ever shrinks their world.
Admit it! They’re the rightful heirs!
Their stake should be no mystery:
their presence throughout history.
(But lawyers wearing fancy shoes
won’t take clients that pee and poop
wherever they choose)

Whose lake this is, let’s all agree —
it isn’t you, it isn’t me.
We all share its biology
with organisms great and small.
And yet we’ve used it as our own,
a playground — and a garbage dump.
Swimmers and boaters remain enticed
while our fertilizers stifle life.
Pesticides and herbicides and runoff, too —
we’ve filled the water with such goo!
The beasts of water, air and earth
are begging us for its rebirth.
We humans are the curse of Cane
and also its redemption.
(We can make it right again
for mutual salvation!)

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Lake Of The Cane

By Laura Cole

Foul monsters and zombies do lie down beneath
But give you no mind dear, ‘tis all but a tease
The depths, the abyss, what is down in the deep?
Do come now, step in now, we’ll put you at ease

So sheepish step I, to that watery bog
My breath is now fainting, my legs are like logs
Swam I to the take, the return to the dock
But shadow, I glimpsed it, my heart it did pause!

What horrors! My mind shrieked, so quickened my pace
How foolish, oh death! Why swim I in this lake?
Then suddenly, glory, stare I it, in the face!
Restore now my steps to the friendly estate

Return, yes, shall I, til the succeeding day,
To battle the monsters of Lake of the Cane

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