Wisdom

In bitter sorrow
I walked beside the sea,
Felt the guttural roaring of the waves
Raging against the sand,
Trapped and lost
Feeling squandered in futility
Tattered sea foam blowing on the shore,
Dry and dying it sinks into the sand
Deep it reaches to find its level
Then in finding is drawn back,
Back to become part of the sea,
In awe of the sea foam’s wisdom
I felt laughter bubbling in my throat
And I, too, turned again home.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

This, I think, is my Celtic nature. I may lose some battles and that hurts. But then I remember that I am still here and there is still joy. That’s the greater victory. MJG

South Plaza

Sweet jewel of sunlit rock
Abounding in life,
Burnt rubies on your rocks
Pink marble, gift of the sealions,
Busy, always busy
Terns and petrels, dark motes against the sea,
Swallow tail gulls, drifting on wings of wind
Great frigates lurking above,
The business of birthing at hand
Leaving infants crying in new found freedom,
Red and golden dragons welcome all who come.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

Fernandina

Black lava painted with verdant mangroves
The jealous sealions guard their sapphire pools,
Clumsy cormorants tender in love
Share their gifts of the sea,
Yellow sparks of warbler
Dance among the trees,
Tiny dragons dream upon the rocks
Ageless, asleep in the dying sun.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

As a biology teacher I have to be honest. Fernandina doesn’t have saddleback tortoises like the one in the painting. That’s actually Lonesome George who was the last survivor of the Pinta tortoises. Gone now, too. I never wrote a poem about Pinta but I think I saw George at the research center on Santa Cruz. He deserves to be remembered. MJG

Ocean Dancer

There are times
The wind sings through the trees
And it is the ocean’s voice I hear
The full moon plays with the billowing clouds
But her silver trail paints a path across
the waves
Swaying trees are masts heavy with sail
Straining against the playful zephyr
I close my eyes and breathe
Rich scents of salt and seaweed and mystery
The deck lifts and falls beneath my feet
As the wooden wheel responds to my grasp
Alive to my whim
Unknown, exotic lands call
And I yearn to answer.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

The sea calls to me, stridently or in whispers, she speaks.

Las Islas

Dreaming gently in a forgotten land
Touched only by warm and loving winds
Perhaps soothed by the silent rain,
Sleeping in soft oblivion
Without thought or care of time
Remote, beyond the touch of now,
The quiet peace of being nothing
A small part in the greater whole
Sunlight jeweling a spider’s web.

© 2019 Maggie Grimes

The Galapagos Islands are a chain of volcanic islands six hundred miles off the coast of Ecuador. I spent time there studying some of the native organisms. The sealions were favorites although each indigenous species is unique and special. The animals were fearless and curious of humans. Each island had its own magic to be discovered. “Las Islas”, “Espanola” and several other poems were inspired by these enchanted islands.

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