A ladder over water- published…

The sea was low, floating veil of a sapphire sun
the shore away, plum; crimson white dunes and
clustering sand, ebbs the tide over the silver stone;
through the crimson stream i walked with wood

And nail. …soon as when minutes begun, i built
a ladder to climb to the sea; built with wood from
wrecks in rain and storm, melodiously the wind
sang, yet the forgotten weep in dusk depths of sea

Their bells toll in an unknown tongue, clanged as
i drove rusted, aging ships nails into languished
wood, swelled with salt; the washing waves, clouds
billowy like swaying trees, air thickened, my drifting

Breath, yet i did not tire; my sweat, languent running
drops into the sea, threads of my soul drifting to the
bottom; with calloused hands, a ladder over water so
that i may place a wreath for the fretted sailors drowned.

Copyright © 07/12/16 lance sheridan®


The little odyssey

It beguiles-
This little odyssey
With Walrus in brown and ivory
Walking by a shining sea
In the middle of the night,
With billowing waves
And sulky moon;
Bear up the Carpenter
Screaming, screaming,
In his apron armor:

Such quantities of terrapins
Ferried from a fishpond,
With fanged and dreadful heads.
Beware, beware,
Their shells are polished for a joust,
They gleam like easter eggshells;
Said the Walrus fulfilling a boast:
Bring forth each goblin head,
One thrust, one thrust,
One thrust of my tusks

And they are sped;
So a fable goes.
And so the Walrus sings
In his bathtub deep;
But oh, the Carpenter knows
The Sea-Dragon with its fangs
Hazardous and long,
Will uprear from the ocean floor,
Beware, beware,
Of fins and scales
Polished for a meal,

One bite, one bite
One bite of a Walrus
And its belly will be fed;
And all the Oysters scurried up
Eager for a treat,
And thick and fast
The Sea-Beast came at last;
The time has come, said the Walrus
To beat a hasty retreat, feed him
A loaf of bread instead with butter rather thick!

Copyright © 11/13/18 lance sheridan®

The little odyssey

Love as one

Love always meets, not here, but only
in an impossible world;
a multitude of feelings: warm as the sun
on a tin roof;
long as sails touching a summer sky.

Walking beside bright pieces of a stream
creating memories;
hopes so high, they are comfortable:
flowers for a remedy;
stars ticking out a lullaby.

Kiss in a dubious doorway as leaves applaud,
swallow your pride as dawn swallows the morn,
go fishing for a tilting fish in a rare river:
laugh and cry as you lavish your blessings;
jump in the surf and touch a moonbeam.

Read a mystery together by candlelight,
hold hands on a sandy beach:
skip stones to make a lake wink,
skate on it in winter when it is a frozen rink;
watch a thousand sunsets, then another.

Grow old together while the footlights flare,
be dreamers in an illusionary world:
get drenched in a sweet summer rain,
embark on a day trip, a world trip;
And always, always say, I love you.

Copyright © 11/11/18 lance sheridan®

Love as one

In the sea cloud quiet place- pinned 7 times on Pinterest

By the throat of the sea and gulls
seeking bōgs of waves, my boat
sits on the stump of shore, her
scarf in a breath of wind holding

Onto a bow of hemp, wood much
like dust in a kettle; yet it pulls,
this crimson weave, yearns for the
stone and clover cottage past the

Crow stalk and rain starved stream;
someone is calling from the flint step
path- ‘tis her, my love, barefoot in
paisley dress and black hair woven.

And i walk from the bōg of my boat
in the topple sundown from the sea
cloud quiet place. …her lips full as
honey and warmth like the white

Lake morn; in a time when stones were
rained away and seaman traveled, i held
her scarf alone in night’s eternal- now a
scent as the moonshade joy, breath of her.

Copyright © 01/04/14 lance sheridan®


of a run aground ship and winged crows- published twice…

marked depth of saltwater by a
yardstick in inches,
storm clouds receding like
playground children
into secret places, oak timber
painted white
painted red
ran aground in a mist,
in a rainy fog, crew abandoned…
fallen sails and
mitered joints left
to rot in mud, on a forgotten
shore, winged crows
to nest in a timbered mast,
reeds grab and choke
the oxygen
out of splintered wood,
last breath taken, gasping,
a trickle of saltwater,
then a torrent, canvas hoisted
by an updraft,
sets sail, no longer moored,
crows cast adrift
in flight, wings like
oars in clouds.

Copyright © 01/04/14 lance sheridan®


The grin of the dog

Grub-white mongrels fleshed with idiot thoughts,
They stray in white city alleys:
Jealously can cause a blood,
Cast a white shadow in their dying;
Rubbish cans banging in and out,
Blind cat in an iron lung
Squirming like a toad.

The park is fleshed with muggers,
Knives in and out:
Black rose petals on the dying,
Blood squirming through the snow;
Victims think they hear the voice of God
Condoning the pack dogs;
A body of whiteness waiting to be carried home.

A police car squirms through a white snow rain,
Figures of ivory- men in blue:
Bang! Bang! Into a non-white crowd,
German Shepard dogs like the mongrels
Like the crowd; pennies tossed into eye sockets,
Bodies tossed into the river like a Jordan cross;
Holy men worm their way into ecclesiastical niches.

How destructive this is:
The dumb, banded metro dwellers
Walk the city plank draped in white Mother Mary
Upholstery into asbestos receptacles,
Bang! Bang! They would have killed me.
The rot of whiteness is there;
Prejudice, it is the complexion of the mind.

Copyright © 11/09/18 lance sheridan®

The grin of dogs