My Beloved Pacific Ocean

My beautiful Pacific Ocean~
my placid Pacific
An endless sheet of shimmering blue-green smoothness.

Some days, an extraordinary stillness.
Window pane flat, extending as far as my eye can see.
Not a ripple.
Reflecting the sky,
yet another shade of blue
to make certain I know, that there is an expanse
in between....

How I miss you....
my Southern California Coast.


The waters of the San Francisco Bay,
a constant churn from the non-stop running engines
of cargo ships
Emptying their load at the dock, and toxic wastes into the Bay.

Creating choppy dank grey waves,
never feeling the Grace and foaming white curl of my Redondo and Manhattan shores....

Can this be the same Pacific Ocean?

So unappealing these waters.
Robbed of the delight of the spice of my companions,
the schools of dolphin. 

Yes!---religiously. Like clockwork. Showing up in response from the power of my love for them,

Every single time~

Swimming along with me.
Keeping pace with my walk along the coast. Rising above the water, leaping, diving and surfing. Half-moon shaped black slivers, circles of joy,
Confirming for me, my place in the Heart of Cosmic Consciousness.

How could I ever doubt?
Surely, I Am Beloved…
to receive such a personally perfect gift...
Playful dolphins, gorgeous day, my Beloved Pacific.

Kentke

8/28/08

Fresh Page for Poems originally published 2008

 

Tiny moss on concrete and stone.
Who'd ever have thought you could survive here?
But you do.

Lichens growing up trees into the heights.
How do you continue to grow with no roots?
But you do.

Candy, living by the breath and mind of God.
Who'd ever thought you'd make it to this point?
But I did.

Roads before you. Dreams calling you. Interests teasing you.
Do you think you have what it takes to reach there?
Yes I do.

3/21/08 Kentke

 

This poem was originally written and published on the blog March 21, 2008. For this New Year's Day 2025 expression, I've transposed the shorter poem from the bottom of the page to the top. This reflects greater 'right relationship', in terms of what I feel about myself, and my focus in today's world.

The lower poem is what arose from my imagination, as I sat alone on the bleachers in front of the empty polo ring....

I no longer care about the drama and dazzle that accompany the deeply boring games that immature adult men with juvenile minds, play. As my poem says, "...All to best one another."

Tall Redwoods guard the horse arena
keeping it safe and sound.
Not even a leaf can invade the perimeter
so stalwart do these sentries
stand their post.

Noble horses enter the ring
and perform delicate steps to
exotic music.
Tiny girls dance and stand,
twirl and jump on bareback beauties
Their movements so natural and graceful,
so at one with their steeds you'd think they were
born on horseback.

Finally the grand finale
The Polo Match is called
as the players are summonsed with trumpets.
Two teams of horsemen enter the ring,
handsome, each lad, but no care for
vanity have they.
For today, they get to show their skills and ride
to best one another.


Kentke 3/21/08 4:30 p.m.