A few resurrected poems.

Seven Degrees of Sea

1° Beauty

Look around, nary a sound,
Twinkling sparkling millpond,
Light dancing, no breath of wind,
Paradise before you,
Deep blue mirrors sky's hue,
Clarity supreme!
See bullet-like fish
dart and dash 
for metres and leagues down.

2° Paradise mottled.

Wind breaks the calm of seas balm,
yet still no harm,
little ripples do break the serenity, 
still paradise
not quite as nice but panorama
is churned, greyish tint
The blue is less clear, 
Fish not there.

3° Paradise broken.

Grey clouds whipped by strongish gusts,
waves rolling
Whitecaps strolling incessantly,
Blue turns to dark green
picture once serene
now crazy with churning spume
clarity lost, murky water
Thoughts darkened by the haze
Cloudy wind-filled days.

4° Crestfallen

Swells building, waves breaking, CRASH,
wind whips water
mad dashes across the surface
Black roiling cloudbanks, close the gloom,
leaves no room
for the fainthearted, motion started
sea boiling green and white
as stomach fights the crests and troughs
Battle soon lost.

5° Gut wrenching.

Death is near, no ocean clear,
Lunch is sent spewing
misery ensuing
As clouds now speed across your vision,
Gales, high wind precision
Swells stand up and confront
the fear of your dread,
White anger, grey green broth
Merciless ocean whipped to froth.

6° Passion Play

For as far as the maddening eye sees,
unrelenting danger
assails the stranger to the power of the sea,
Clouds one big procession,
wind obsession, your life at the mercy
of powers far greater,
and sooner or later the boat will sway
and rock and toss, and moronically ride
out the oceans passion play.

7° Natural Forces

You ride the Dancing Horses, on forces
not meant to be,
no one conquers the Sea,
but feel it's power and it's serenity,
be it Paradise, or majestic Glory,
take from it what you must
Revile it, revel in it's touch,
It will treat you, natures power
as it wishes, by Seven Degrees,
The Seas.

Rusty Car bodies Operetta in K Minor

Ok, so I wander junk yards,
looking at the majesty of what has been,
wondering at the past lives
each rotting hulk has to offer.

The colours are much the same
red's, browns, blues and greens
and the white of vans still unseen.

There’s a tale or two I assure you
but most hark back to my days of driving,
the behaviour of each vehicle mapped
in eternity, just so I can replay it, like now.

Maybe it's God's piano, the scrapheap
playing things over in K Minor
just so he can say OK,
and another life passes by on a dead highway.

I feel privileged if that's the case
to have heard his tune
seen his moon
under which all those heaps lose colour
and become a symphony of grey.

The Jesus conspiracy.

Regulations stated no questions please

about Jesus and a possible conspiracy,

stated that Moses couldn’t be challenged

even though he parted a huge sea!

Statutes state Man must follow the One God

and his Prophets – yes two - Jesus and Mohammed,

must never question the written accounts

of the lives these men begat upon society.

I know Love, of woman in my arms

not the love of fellow man, it’s sad really

but I treat my fellows as equals

no superior or subordinate as the case may be.

I’ve read the Bible, three times now yet still

the meaning of hidden messages don’t jump

and hit me square in the face, yet I follow God,

but neither of the prophets, too many wars.