He was a seafaring man

Set sail on a morn when

the sea         was

its wettest,

‘her’ locket he wore ’round

his               neck,

the shore wears 

the tide.


Strong headwinds kept the

tall               ship

along the coast,

in her bow,


fragment of wood from

a shipwreck.


Clouds, a storm from nowhere,

grabbed the  keel

grabbed her

sails with

barnacled     hands.


The sea gave him and his

ship a           frothy

look as mad dogs in

a cobblestone


put them on a thin line


pronouncing sentence.


Brusk, bitter and insulting

waves           washed

over her deck and


were kept mortal prisoners,

in rusted       chains

of the sea life.


Shadows lay before her skeletal

remains,       much

as open windows on

the sand,

closed by his sole

survivor         fingers

to silence

the screams.


The ship tilted, creaked, a tomb

for the          dead

on a barren beach,

its bell struck eight times,

over and       over

by the wind pulling

on the rope.


The sailors roots to the sea pulled

out               where

fallen tress lie in


he walks along the shore with a

fragment of    wood,

a mutinous cane,

looking for a

new ship.


Copyright © 05/20/2014 Ð Ṝ Ƣ Ñeedle & Ŧhread®



she smiled,
her face had
the texture
the shape
the color.
cradled my love in her breath,
in the palms
of her 
she was distinctly alive
had honey colored skin
auburn hair
instantly evoked my
spoke two languages,
and something else.
echoed all that i gave
had a humbling
to who i was,
wrote about her beauty on
poetic paper
i could taste her aroma,
her love liquid
looking at her, she was the
the blue morning dawn.
she was a heroine to my wants,
my needs
spent many hours in the bedchamber
under satin sheets,
heat of her body through the thread,
through the fabric.
then, one day, watched her casket
lowered into the earth
trees swayed under a cold,
winter wind
leaves moved to other
small towns
but, she stayed with me
her replica
her soul
her life.
Copyright © 05/15/2013  Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

storm upon the dunes

the storm wings across 

the dunes


thunder is its’ voice to 

be dreaded


the wind braces up–then finds 

itself accelerating


opens the gaits–galloping ghosts of lightning in 

the offing


behaves with un-gratuitous folly as it bests the 

ocean’s roar


the rain rides the wind–the skies 

are riven


and bursts as a wave from the clouds

that impend


then climbs down on stormy ladders–one rung at 

a time


the tempest’s onslaught charges the 

stormy skies


lightning strikes the highest points as the thunder claps 

for more


the wind delegates the ocean waves to lash the 

affrighted shore


as swift as a darkened shadow, as long as a 

dreadful dream–


the rain begins to carve its’ name with 

slanting lines


its’ signature most illegible, but 

most assured


ever expanding, the storm enlarges its’ field 

of view


and sets its’ sight upon 

the dunes


where grains of sand one by one are 

quickly deluged


its’ spirits bruised by the storm’s 

fierce intensity


and footprints are washed away like the remains of 

the day


as are the echoes of 

conquering children


their fate is the common fate of all, into each life some rain 

must fall


just as the sand-dunes, heaped one 

upon another


hide each the first, so in life are 

the former


deeds are quickly hidden by those that 

follow after


but still dreaming like the 



taking shape–not fearing the hand 

of fate


not hearing lonely winds 

great wail


that grasps the sand-

dune’s grass–


fastening itself–seeking to rout its’ 

very spirit


but soon tires and 

is spurned–


making it as momentary as 

a sound


for the wind itself has blown away 

the storm


and a bright new day 

always follows


so quick bright good things come 

to warm.


Copyright © 05/13/2103 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®


sing the electric flame

it seeks the current charge like ghosts
seek a house wire thought
it seeks the storm, seeks no time watch,
slides down on clouded ladders
shifts air wind movement like white
shirted workers shift 
delinquent paper stacks;
the sky opens
the sky braces
itself against imaginary boundaries
roll of the weather dice,
electric flame light with black clouds in the
just like looking in a rear view in a 
tunnel dark;
portal night riot of colors
prisons landscapes,
incarcerates swaying trees,
shackles those afraid;
loud clapping of thunder
crack of bright lightning
spreads its fingers apart
grabs emotions, they fold
up like cheap card tables,
tastes fear, knows its safe in its mouth,
the rain weeps, walks down on 
clouded steps
in anguish, smites gardens,
smites dry, abandoned
homeless man freezing on a park bench,
a poet in isolation, climbed up
attic steps
dented pots catch water here and there
he writes, ‘sing the electric flame…’
Copyright © 04/30/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®

whaler’s lament

the sun has set upon my watery grave,
a blue sea and its waves know me
and i have parted
indications are strong that i will never return,
there is a whisper in the sea wind 
of promises unspoken;
the sea heaved-up, hung loaded o’er our 
whaling ship New Bedford,
the waves broke there and buried me with 
its tumultuous strength
for a debt was owed to those who went 
before me, i was willing to lay down 
all my joys in this life, 
just under the surface, i will now be an 
orphan living in silence;
i can no longer see the distant light, nor hear 
our children’s laughter all surrounding,
it shattered the silence that was so heavy to bear
for it lifted my soul into the night
and filled my heart with undying love abounding;
memories of those blissful moments come creeping 
o’er me like the sea
and i am most gratified to God and to you my 
dear Maggie that i was able to 
enjoy them, 
even for a fleeting moment, my love for you and 
our children is deathless;
yet my love of whaling creeps o’er me like vapors 
from a squall
that pushed and pulled me irresistibly on, 
like rusted chains to the sea-life,
held strongly together at first, now separated 
as it cast me adrift,
you my dear, are my mourning widow, whaling my adulteress;
i now have misgivings about the cause to which 
i was engaged
Maggie, forgive my faults and the pains that i now 
cause you, how thoughtless and foolish 
i had oft times been
and now divine providence has whispered to me 
a wafted prayer, 
i return to you and our children all my love unharmed;
if the dead can come back to earth and flit unseen 
on the happiest of days and the darkest,
always i will blow a soft gentle breeze upon 
your cheeks, memories, as you sit in 
widows’ weeds, with naked feet over my empty coffin;
’tis time for the icy waters to abate, for your 
mourning to cease, i no longer face 
a sea of darkness,
for you have brought me peace, Maggie, 
never forget how much i love you.
Copyright © 04/22/2013 Ðark Ṝoasted Ƣoetry®