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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“The Artist Said” by Megan Seaman


Lord Ganesha, remover of all obstacles, bestower of Wisdom

Lord Ganesha, remover of all obstacles, bestower of Wisdom

What’s green and sawtoothed, with woody musk?

“Why, it’s the evergreen mammoth” the explorer said, “with his two ton tusks.”


What’s curved and scaled, with fiery sound?

“Why, it’s the darkened treble” the musician said, “of the clef that abounds.”


What’s stony and grey, with an elephant’s head?

“Why, it’s the deity of wisdom” the Brahman said, “atop a mouse, instead.”


What’s changing and swirling, with fearsome winds?

“Why, it’s the modified mind-stuff” the Yogini said, “fighting to get in.”


What’s full of coincidence, imagination and, dreams?

“Why, it’s the three only things” the artist said, “that thread the seams…

…of the creative spirit and connects us all

and into the soundless nothingness we all will fall.”


And the artist said with glazed over gaze, but canny contemplation,

“the canvas I paint today is my own sublimation

of the enemy ego that darkens my heart

and clouds the love that brightens the stark

and cold tundras of this armor I wear

that was built to protect the vulnerability I fear.”


And then the artist said, with a sigh and a step,

“I’m setting free this corroded metal for the self and the breath.

No more clinging

No more stinging

No more sea salty things

Just the light in the sky and the winds that it brings.


And I’ll say just one more thing and then I will go

Paint your pictures in the present, for (the past is gone and) tomorrow never knows.”


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It Is Not Mine To Tell (8-7-2012) by Megan Seaman


“It is not mine to tell

So I just assume forget

As if I never knew

In the first place

Follow that lace

That strapped on the shoe

Which would run free

With the truth of

What was told

If I let that shooting gun sound

But I won’t, ‘cause

It is not mine to tell.

So I just jump of that lace

Space to let go

Remember something different

Anything dead that needs reviving

Like that long story

I’ve been writing, now, six years

About sister one and brother three

Against sister two

Rivalry and frozen misunderstandings

When it was all Mother’s fault

I would say, “but, it was all her fault.”

Still, those are not my words

And only half my story

The other half is yours, and

It is not mine to tell.” – Megan Marie Seaman