Mermaid Verse

music flows from lips and as words meet sound bound and found me, your eyes wide open, soul sprightly greeting thee….


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I Am the Poet (July 29, 2013) by Megan Seaman

I am the poet, not the songwriter

Weaving words in perfect pattern

Like soft threads, golden and red

I sew the suit you wear.

 

You are the songwriter, not the poet

Silvery sounds are your guide

Harnessing hums of traveling tunes

You amuse me with your magic moods.

 

I am the poet, not the songwriter

Picking precisely each phrase

Crazed with analytic eye

Speaking how it feels inside.

 

You are the songwriter, not the poet

Like a dance routine or dramatic scene

Disguised calculation of emotional relation

You play the poems that arise.

 

Enticing player with sweet-sounding whine

Tell me your lies and I’ll listen

Very closely to each piece of fiction

Oh, promise you’ll lie.

‘cause what’s the use of truth

in this production put forth

skilled rendition of unvarnished life.

 

But, I am the poet, not the songwriter

With a wish he will listen to my bit of diction

And feel the warm blood that

Melts the ice.

 

And, you are the songwriter, not the poet

Blind to the rhyme, yet heedful to the tone

The music that opens what hides

Behind those sleepy blue eyes.

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Things May Brings (6-1-2013) by Megan Seaman

May Geese

May Geese

“Sick in May

I’m not alone, but still and no one near

Feel hard cushion where my heart rests

Because I couldn’t guess your start.

Crazy, wasted, is how I am in times like these

Must be, to think the rainbow waves

And dream the smoke billows

That crowd around watercolor scenes

Ivory shows through strawberry skin

Delectable and sweet on the tongue.

 

Walked in the black-brown square

Stares from ghosts twenty years haunting

Clinging like lichen on the footsteps of

Redwood trees for just one taste –

Just one taste –  just one touch –  just one touch

Surviving the rain and weather

All together they swarm in their

Freakish strange haze of

Cloudy suffering

Wondering when roots would

Finally leave their established ground.

 

And they did. Stepped out into the rain

And hurried skipped across the road

Pushed open the door and

Strum and bow to notes of

Young lovers and looks

The Seers clapped to hear

The love sounds made, so intimate

So susceptible to the crowd’s simple whim

And they were proud, loud, in their

Quiet hayseed harmony, hope.

 

It’s the middle of the night and May

Turned into summer, with it’s sensual

Selfish burning every exposed inch of flesh

Blazing clouds and carefully created space

Pacing the dark paths with dewy green

Between bare toes, smell of earthy things

And I couldn’t see anything, but only

Sensed the open meadow

Out of the trees in moonlight

I saw something

Eyes blue bright.” – Megan Marie Seaman


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Intention #33 (April 24, 2013) by Megan Seaman

"laughing at the pain left in the watercolors..."

“laughing at the pain left in the watercolors…”

“Maybe if I think you hard enough

You’ll be mine.

I’ll wish you – want you – wistfully whim you

Into reality, serendipity, destiny

And see your bright blue eyes

Gazing at me with a twinkle

And a grin – Yes, a smile

Walking through doorsill

Stealing my will to deny you any longer.

And against my tenacity for sorrowful sourness

You’ll woo my heart to the warmth of your

Tender softness.

Your pure essence – a creative soul of deftness

At burning late day clouds away

With your hot-hot sun

We’ll have fun, Will,

While the kids laugh and play

By seaside, salty and soaked to the bone

We’ll look back in time and realize the signs

Were all pointing to sandy steps.

Laughing at the pain left in the watercolors of

Some murky wet paper, some class, some teacher

Long longtime ago,

We’ll know that tears wept then

Created the sea before us

And the cries were echoes of seagulls

With wanderlust

For coastlines like the one

We stand upon today in

Lingering light of July rays.

And we’ll breathe the sea air and hear

The giggles of children with no care

For sad stories of yesterday.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


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Boxed Up (7-30-2012) by Megan Seaman

Cat in a box

“In the clutter and clatter

Of old clanking things

I stumbled upon

Battered boxes dusty

From their own decay

I couldn’t help myself

From pulling them open to discover

Lost memories hidden away

In dirty depths were

The pages of twenty-two

Years past, and they unfolded a path

Taking me back

Down treacherous road

Full of broken glass and strange fluid

Certainly destructive with one single touch

And as words violently

Reckless wrestled in front of me

I felt a shutter of fear

Run right through me

As I saw the young girl so lovely, but lost

She was fragile like butterfly wings and subtly cross

It scared me, she frightened me

Just seeing her face

So I closed that box with its disintegrating flaps

Pushed it away

Now as I sit here

With dirty box at side

I am warmed with a fire that burns inside

That the young girl with her sullen eyes,

She strengthened her wings and let herself fly

So this dusty container is all that is left

Of a past life, its karma met

And completed,

moved on to other things.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


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Just a thought (6-5-12) by Megan Seaman

Visit to the Man in the Moon, Silver Lake, CA

“Stony blue sueded mat

Lay flat so that I might

Ride that magic carpet

Through gardenia and jasmine blossom

Intoxicating with sweet summer air

Captivated with blue eyed stare

From the magic man of the moon.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


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Blue Eyed Lou (5-17-2012) by Megan Seaman

Blue Eyed Lou

“Staring out of the window

From top of the old red barn

Breath of green blades

And musky lake

Cool swirls touch sticky August skin

Been waitin’

For you, Blue Eyed Lou

Come love me, again

My friend

Like you did summers ago

Two lives before

Return to me with

Autumn kisses

Fiery hot sex

Like when we met

That early winter eve

Trust me and I’ll trust you

Brand new

To this life of love

Doves fly out from

Red wood and ancient

Window pane

Gain another magic moment

As spring returns

Over Maine Islands

And salty seashores

Pour your summery sweet skin

Body on body, again

Let’s meet and penetrate

Deep

The awful lies of past lives

To authentically realize

This one, just once, not twice

While we have this chance

To dance the motion of

Lovers, under covers

Silky flowing warm fluid

Wash over you and me

Get taken away, lost in breath

Of late May promises

And I’ll follow you

Blue Eyed Lou

Oh, yes, I’ll follow you,

And watch’em all come true…” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


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Sickness (3-6-2012) by Megan Seaman

“Sickness has no shame

Pressure pushing the places

Behind crackled itching eyes

Breathing in and hear the

Distant banshee scream of

A wheeze through

Cavernous depths

And exhale, feel the tickling irritation

Sensation of spots sore inside

Raw and realized spaces

Skinned rubbed rough

And rosy, with deceiving blush

But fiery stinging burn comes with each touch.

 

Roar from lungs

Surprises the life

That rests inside this house

Of flesh and blood, bone and bile

That quakes with each rush

Of desperate air moving quickly and with strength

To force out the intruder that

Penetrated permeable walls

And has overstayed its length

As violent wind gusts enter

And at one leave each orifice

The victor will be thee

On battleground of holy body

And cure they being it must!!!” – Megan Marie Seaman