Blue Bodies Litter the Beach, poem by Michael Minassian (BEACH AND POOL MEMORIES Poetry and Prose Series)

Blue Bodies Litter the Beach
by Michael Minassian

I stop my wife
as she is about to pick up the first jellyfish,
so blue and small it looks like a shell:
a dark mollusk or tiny anchor
from a long-ago wreck
the sea has thrown up.

A translucent mass tinted pink, blue, & purple,
beckoning even in death’s disguise:
like drowned dirigibles,
or an organ removed
from the body of the sky
without muscle or bones,
blood red tentacles trailing behind.

I do not know
what that inner atmosphere is like,
or if I could breathe the air within;
would it smell as sweet
as the serpent’s kiss,
or taste like the ocean bottom:
sand and salt and sunken skeletons.

Could I look up and launch
the pink ridge of sail,
would I see stars
or stones of tropical reefs,
the shark’s tooth’s glint
or the sun’s glare?
Could I spare the sharp sting
of venom on my wife’s skin –
would I beach myself,
would I dream of ships
with sails falling off the edge of the earth?

PHOTO: “Blue jellyfish” by Roseanne Jordan. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

SOURCE: Originally published in Iodine Poetry Journal, Fall/Winter 2011/2012: 55. Also appeared in Verse-Virtual, February, 2016.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: I wrote this poem after visiting  Ft. Lauderdale Beach [Florida] with my wife who had just moved from Germany to our home in Florida. It was her first time seeing jellyfish of the type I described and I had to stop her from touching one because she thought it was a seashell.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Michael Minassian lives in San Antonio, Texas. His poems have appeared in such journals as The Aurorean, The Broken Plate, Exit 7, The Galway Review, Third Wednesday, and Verse-Virtual. He is also the writer/producer of the podcast series Eye On Literature. Amsterdam Press published a chapbook of poems entitled The Arboriculturist in 2010.

A Cave of Angelfish Huddle Against the Moon, poem by Ron De Maris

A CAVE OF ANGELFISH HUDDLE AGAINST THE MOON
by Ron De Maris

Put an ear to the light at fall
of dark and you will hear
nothing. This pale luminescence
that drifts in upon them
makes a blue bole of their caves,
a scare of their scything
tails. They tell
in the bubbling dark of images
that come in upon them
when light spreads like an oil slick
and sea fans
that once were their refuge
turn away.
Now there is no dark
dark enough for their silver tails,
scatter of color
(like coins massively
piling in the lap of a miser)
that was, in the day, their pride.
How hugely here we belong.
This is their song
in the silting
drift of the reef.
They have never seen the moon
nor the black scut of night, stars
spread like plankton
in their beastly infinities.

Photo:“Queen Angelfish” Chris Huss/NOAA

Performance artist Reverend Billy stands in the ocean and talks about saving our planet

Performance artist Bill Talen — known as Reverend Billy — is at the forefront of environmental awareness and is taking many risks to bring this vital message to the world. With his trademark ironic/humorous touch, watch and listen at this youtube.com link as the Rev as gives a sermon in the Atlantic Ocean near Coney Island.

Learn about Reverend Billy’s activities and upcoming events at revbilly.com. He needs everyone’s help!

The Secret of the Sea, poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

THE SECRET OF THE SEA (Excerpt)
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

…My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.

Photo: John Payne

Fish, poem by Gaia Holmes

FISH
Poem by Gaia Holmes 

“There are plenty more
fish in the sea,”
he tells you with conviction
knowing, as he does,
the whole spectrum
of glitter, silver fin and gill.
 
He knows fish
that would shock
with their electric,
sheepish fish that graze
on plankton, sea furze
and the moss
that clads shipwrecks.
 
He knows fish
that you can trust
for their regularity,
fish that get high
on the lights
of midnight trawlers,
fish that freeze
mesmerized
by the clank and hum
of ocean liners.
 
He knows fish
that fall in love
with pebbles,
fish that get giddy
when wind
fingers the waves.
 
He knows fish
that would gracefully
take your hook
into their mouths
without wincing.

“Fish” and two other poems by Gaia Holmes appear in the  Silver Birch Press Silver Anthology, available at Amazon.com.

Illustration: Drylcon Graphics

Happy Birthday, Herman Melville

We celebrate Herman Melville’s 194th birthday today with an erasure poem based on the opening page of Melville’s masterwork, Moby-Dick, courtesy of source material and erasure software at Wave Books.

CALL ME PARTICULAR
Erasure Poem by Silver Birch Press

In honor of the mighty Melville’s birthday, we invite our readers to create their own Moby-Dick-inspired erasure poems and email them to silver@silverbirchpress.com. We promise to post your creations! Get started at this link.

ABOUT HERMAN MELVILLE:  Herman Melville (August 1, 1819 – September 28, 1891) was an American writer best known for the novel Moby-Dick. His first three books gained contemporary attention (the first, Typee, became a bestseller), but after literary success in the late 1840s, his popularity declined in the mid-1850s and never recovered during his lifetime. When he died in 1891, he was almost completely forgotten. It was not until the “Melville Revival” in the early 20th century that his work won recognition, especially Moby-Dick, which was hailed as one of the literary masterpieces of both American and world literature. He was the first writer to have his works collected and published by the Library of America. (Read more at Wikipedia.org.)

Fish, Poem by Gaia Holmes

FISH

Poem by Gaia Holmes 

“There are plenty more
fish in the sea,”
he tells you with conviction
knowing, as he does,
the whole spectrum
of glitter, silver fin and gill.
 
He knows fish
that would shock
with their electric,
sheepish fish that graze
on plankton, sea furze
and the moss
that clads shipwrecks.
 
He knows fish
that you can trust
for their regularity,
fish that get high
on the lights
of midnight trawlers,
fish that freeze
mesmerized
by the clank and hum
of ocean liners.
 
He knows fish
that fall in love
with pebbles,
fish that get giddy
when wind
fingers the waves.
 
He knows fish
that would gracefully
take your hook
into their mouths
without wincing.

NOTE: “Fish” and two other poems by Gaia Holmes will appear in the upcoming Silver Birch Press release Silver: An Eclectic Anthology of Poetry & Prose (available November 15, 2012).

Illustration: Drylcon Graphics

Pi’s Opposites by Yann Martel

The Life of Pi, Chapter 78 (Excerpt)

by Yann Martel

…to be a castaway is to be caught up in grim and exhausting opposites.

When it is light, the openness of the sea is blinding and frightening.

When it is dark, the darkness is claustrophobic.

When it is day, you are hot and wish to be cool and dream of ice cream and pour sea water on yourself.

When it is night, you are cold and wish to be warm and dream of hot curries and wrap yourself in blankets.

When it is hot, you are parched and wish to be wet.

When it rains, you are nearly drowned and wish to be dry.

When there is food, there is too much of it and you must feast.

When there is none, there is truly none and you starve.

When the sea is flat and motionless, you wish it would stir.

When it rises up and the circle that imprisons you is broken by the hills of water, you suffer that peculiarity of the high seas, suffocation in open spaces, and you wish the sea would be flat again.

PHOTO: David Nicol, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Pi’s Sea by Yann Martel

The Life of Pi, Chapter 78 (Excerpt)

by Yann Martel

There were many seas.

The sea roared like a tiger.

The sea whispered in your ear like a friend telling you secrets.

The sea clinked like small change in a pocket.

The sea thundered like avalanches.

The sea hissed like sandpaper working on wood.

The sea sounded like someone vomiting.

The sea was dead silent.

And in between the two, in between the sky and the sea, were all the winds.

And there were all the nights and all the moons.

Photo: Annie Smith, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Out to Sea

My soul is full of longing
for the secret of the sea,
and the heart of the great ocean
sends a thrilling pulse through me.

HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

Photo: John Payne