Mermaid Verse

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


Leave a comment

My Heart is Set on You (or Never Ever Fall in Love with a Rockstar) by Megan Seaman

Heart on fire

Heart on fire

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

Though you do not care that I exist

Though I send you lollipops like you wish

Though my fragile tissue may gushingly bleed

Though you think you have all you need

Though she sings the songs you passionately sing

Though you’ve given her that diamond ring

Though what I say might sound disturbing

Though I’ll take a hundred years discerning

Though the truth is yet disappointingly unknown

Though you won’t call me on your telephone

Though we live miles and miles apart

Though the distance is long to make a start

Though it rains cold drops on Monday morning

Though it persists through evening violently storming

Though when the sun comes it is wondrously warm

Though the light reveals the drapes now torn

Though what I might say doesn’t mean a thing

Though you care not for gifts I bring

Though I will never feel the touch of your hand

Though we will never go the places I plan

Though the Universe is wide and wild and expanding

Though I’ll see you on that street corner standing

Though our eyes will meet in some seraphic way

Though at a moments pause you will turn and look away

My heart is set on you

My heart is set on you

My poor old lonely heart is set on you.


Leave a comment

It hurts so good (8-2-14 to 8-3-14) – by Megan Seaman

Something golden below the surface

Something golden below the surface

It hurts so good.

You run the sharp nail over the raw and tender surface and it hurts so good. It is the feeling of nothing; a faint scream, or some noise six billion years away. But you hear it anyway. It is the trickle of water from some cracked pipe, in some wall, on some floor, in some building, in some city, in some country, on some continent, and it leaks and flows in the darkness. But you hear it anyway. It is the glimmer, shining, thirty-six thousand feet below the sea, where Spanish dancing cucumbers can’t even survive. But you see it anyway. It is the honeyed smell of spring, some one hundred and seventy-nine days after the first leaf falls on autumn’s ground. But you smell it anyway. It is the flavor of the pomegranate in the dark red depths of the wine that grew from the grapes nourished by the land, which flourished an orchard of Persephone’s fruits nine thousand years ago. But you taste it anyway. It is the aching feeling under three (thousand) layers of skin, wanting to be exposed and touched, wanting to be acknowledge for the sensation it brings. But you feel it anyway. And though it is tender and raw under the piercing metal,

It hurts so good.


Leave a comment

Terrible Mistake (9-24-2013) by Megan Seaman

Mermaids mused about the comforting coolness of their blue black refuge... only depths away

Mermaids mused about the comforting coolness of their blue black refuge… only depths away

“Was I your terrible mistake?

Five years gone blue then black

Attack of memories and

Flood of fury rocked and

Rolled me

To think that All I was

Was your terrible mistake.

 

Listening to The National

Sing about love given

Then lost, flagrantly

Left behind, lonely

And your apathetic

Words send me back

To that terrible mistake.

 

And no matter how much

My smart head refigures

Recalibrates the path

The viral data eventually infect

Each new datum

Downloaded from above

And imprint this terrible mistake.

 

Silent prayers to see

Your smile beam

Sunlight on me

Again, a risible wish

Spoken to apparitions

Who have no permissions

To mess with the plight of terrible mistakes.

 

Then the blue black darkness

Gets deeper, colder, faster,

Closes in quicker

And it half occurs that

The emptiness before me

Rests within me

As I persistently prescribe this terrible mistake.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


Leave a comment

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

 


Leave a comment

Flesh (7-3-12) by Megan Seaman

then the sun came

Buried under fleshy layers

Thick with fatty lies

The light burned bright

And blazed building flames

That scorched and sizzled the lipids

Of doubt and fear

You met me here

In the sweltering muck

With your cool smile, washed

The ash away

Sea blue eyes released storm

On these shores

Thunder and light

Wind and rain

Washed over us again

And we were clean

In the calming dawn

Yummy yellow sun

Rise with sweet pink clouds

We rested our heads

And realized the fire

Held strong and burned

Even brighter inside.” – Megan Marie Seaman


Leave a comment

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

 


Leave a comment

You’re Not Right For Me (8-3-2012) by Megan Seaman

White Pirate Ship on distant waters

Friday, August 3, 2012, 12:42AM, sitting writing my dissertation. Got a text message from TF. It read, “The Buddha was with me today.” ‘The Buddha” being the small Buddha trinket I gave to him before his trip to Columbus. He’s stealing my heart. And I know it’s all wrong. Oh, love, oh life. Is it really about being brave enough to get your heart broken again and again?

 

You’re not right for me

This is all wrong.

You told me you liked the mountains

I told you I liked the sun

And the way it shines on waving tide

Of an ocean, Atlantic blue

The feel of sand under soft toes

And mellifluous sea songs too.

 

You told me that you would never accept

The furry little beings that accompanied my side

I told you that love knows no limits

It is unbounded, infinite and shows its pride

In the small gestures and looks

That are shared by two lovers

Unafraid to let go, open up

Reveal what’s covered.

 

You told me that you were scared to love again

and lay bare your downy tum

where the huntress once crept

and laid her blade down

on holy body, yours to sacrifice

to give it all up, without looking back

move forward, and not think twice.

 

And that is why I know

You’re not right for me and this is all wrong.

I said I wanted to love you

You said you wanted to move on.

 

So, just go.

Leave, now.

let me be, Gypsy soul.

Before I look back, turn around, let love take its toll

Because if you’re looking to pay the price

Then what you’ll get is the deed

And a heart of gold to entice

Cast its spell to follow her lead.” – Megan Marie Seaman