The Seas are Deep and Mysterious | Poetry Remix No. 52

The seas are deep and mysterious. Erratically terrifying. Bound by nothing but the flood, you have no bearing where you are. Just a compass to tell you where to go. The fierce sun or furious clouds may be above you. Below you, bewildering depths.

But, then again, the sea is not a destination, it’s a journey.

The Seas are Deep and Mysterious
Photo by Amit Shaiwale on Unsplash

This sea full of life . . . and death. Plunge deep, find another’s tomb. . . or maybe their lost treasure. At dusk, paradoxes magnify. The moon gives shadows only, not clarity, and you’re left conjecturing on whether the strange notes you hear are the kind creatures of the abyss, or the sirens of malintent. . .

But, for me, I rest in this ocean, stray in this sea. I’m adrift in this briny air, with the sea-birds orchestrating their charming cacophony to the rhythm of waves.

Yes. . . I’m lost. . .strayed. . .adrift. . . not in the ocean. . .not in the sea. . . because yes, they are deep and mysterious, just like I’ve described. But, truly, this most deep and mysterious place I’m in. . . is a place called love. . . And I’ve just hopped off my boat.

Silky Flowers. . .Epitomes of You

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Silky Flowers. . .Epitomes of You | Poetry Remix No. 49

Silky flowers . . .epitomes of you.

Decorated in delicate dresses.

Silky Flowers. . .Epitomes of You
Photo by Nikhita Singhal on Unsplash

I’ll draw you in pastures of loneliness.

Suns Rise to Parch Tears

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

The Waves are Crashing | Poetry Remix No. 46

The waves are crashing against shaded stones.
The salty air dries the brine of the night.
Creatures clamber, evading to their homes.
Skinny palm trees bend their hands to the light.

the waves are crashing
Photo by Jack Stapleton on Unsplash

I close my eyes, you drift into picture.
Disregarding all but our affection.
We’re so carefree, relishing this fixture.
Insouciant, relishing imperfection.

Let’s float apart, together, me and you.
Laughs. . . flirty glances. . . our envisaged cove.
Between the azure sky and ocean blue,
there’s the warmth of the sun, and of our love.

I close my eyes and I hold your hand in mine,
But when eyes open, you’re not here. . this time. . .

One Day You Won’t Recognize Me

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

One Day You Won’t Recognize Me | Poetry Remix No. 45

I sense one day you won’t recognize me.
They say to remember where you came from.
But I say sometimes change is meant to be:
To march to the beat of a different drum.

One day you won't recognize me
Photo by Yudi Indrawan on Unsplash

But only a still small voice inside knows
the rhythm of life soon to be composed.

I Thought You Were Dead

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

I Thought You Were Dead | Short Poem No. 111

They wheeled you out and I thought you were dead;
Your hospital bed mirrored a casket.
I ducked down and dropped my lips to your head.

I thought you were dead
Photo by S L on Unsplash

This season, I lost two people I love.
Appeals go up, if I’m able to ask it,
not to take this third soul, too, up above.

I Write in my Grave

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

I Write In My Grave | Short Poem No. 110

I write where I passed. . . I write in my grave.
I write in passing. . . there’s naught I can save.
Writing can sometimes rekindle my gall.
Can writing sometimes rekindle a crawl?

Would you ditch me here in this tomb to rot?
You observed me carefully mark my spot.
I sunk in sin, duped by a false lover.
What love grants you to die for another?

I write in my grave
Photo by Josh Miller on Unsplash


I grew in sin, became a false lover.
False love robbed you of me to another.
What’s reckless, what’s not. I deserve it all.
But cautious love will seize me when I fall.

I lie in my grave. . . I whisper your name. . .
Remind myself that love’s always the same.

Sometimes, My Only Friend

© Jonathan Pines and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.