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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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.

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I Thought (6-4-13) by Megan Seaman

“I thought you were my Beatles’ song

Long and languid the notes carefully streamed

from your mouth, invisible electric touch

The drums creating heart beat sounds

That vibrated and moved organs into alignment

And the Tune heard without a word from

You came through and changed what was visible – what was possible.

 

I thought you were my midnight moon

With golden glow reflected

From the sun that shown in

Your opposite sky. You beamed

And it seemed that this Earth

Was yours and you were mine

Forever, no need for words.

 

I thought you were my ocean wide

Wild and white caps of waves

Ebb and flow to shores

So far, come close, so that

I may feel your warm salty

Touch and flush of waters

Awaken this sleepy heart

Set apart from dreams in the dark.

 

I thought you were my last farewell

Chest swells with sensational

Push of butterflies to the

Surface, my last hello lost in

Your soul where it was always

Going, not knowing the meaning,

Reasons, or why, but alright

Satisfied and prepared to fall

and ready for it all.” – Megan Marie Seaman


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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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Patience, please (sometime in March-ish) by Megan Seaman

Written…Maybe like Thursday or Friday, March 14th or 15th, in the middle of the night

“Sneaking suspicion you’d come

By in that way

Late in the day

And whisper a springtime tune

But Mark says snow will

Come, again

And summer will arrive in

Late June.

 

Whispers wheeze through the trees

I always liked that rustling sound

Cool skin of leaves green

Cast their shadow

On the ground

In the long

Light still reaching

For the day

As it fades away

In the din of

Lonely town.

 

Sit, sit, sit, Sit down now

Wait, wait, wait, Wait

For the monarchs

Believe they will

Fly and flutter

In the butterfly

Bush covered

With its purple

Cones, in droves

They will come

If only you

Believe.

 

And I read about the ones

Who counted

Not just counted on them

To show themselves

But counted their

Every presence

But what about the Monarchs

That were seen dancing on

the sea?

Or did they even know

That some had broken from the band

And resigned themselves

To following Atlantis

And the mermaid

Songs.” – Megan Marie Seaman

And this was his tune… https://vimeo.com/57762315


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The Butterfly and the Sea (March 4, 2013) by Megan Seaman

tattooed tales of future wishes willed by you.

tattooed tales of future wishes willed by you.

“Don’t get sour, I say

When she flutters away

Your forehead shows lines of contempt.

 

The Butterfly, beautiful with her

Iridescent twirl

Blue and green way she tempts.

 

Your mind is frazzled

But your heart is dazzled

By the flitting fleeting boom.

 

Of wings as they flap

And legs as they tap

On petals loosened by wind’s tune.

 

The Butterfly flew

Over earth that was new

To the shores of Atlantic Sea.

 

Wooed by warm days

In lovely late May

She was searching ardently looking for he.

 

And I saw her dance

Taking the chance

Over silvery salty waves.

 

But he swallowed her in

With his cool saline grin

Dost not comprehend how the heart behaves.” – Megan Marie Seaman

 


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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