Beyond the Page: MerMay and Earth Day Poetry
April 30, 2020
Join editors Ardea Eicher and Lauren Miller alongside volunteers Darcy Pound and Lisa Wilson as they recite their poetry in honor of National Poetry Month. With the prompts of MerMay, Earth Day, and shelter, the team comes up with some creative prose.
Poems Recited:
Reflection
by Lauren Miller
It was like blue porcelain,
the way the sea shattered into you.
The crack produced a bruise that swelled
to a pretty purple, on the cusp of a deep dark
blue. I could feel the resistance
you put into the wave, but the tremor
left a glimmer in the water.
It revealed your intention of intermission
without releasing the reins.
I admire that about you.
The way that, even so beautiful,
you are able to bring out the color
in those around you.
But even if you were a mermaid,
I’d still call you a siren.
Signal
by Lisa Wilson
Years of coexistence alongside
The rising and falling waves
No peace to be found in the constant crash
Just a constant raging call to move along
When the roiling ocean
Retreated just to gather fresh fury
Amid seafoam caps
Rainbow-light glinted off
Agate black locks and a latticework of scales
And a harmony carried over the din
What home could be made beneath the waters
With the bearer of such strange wonder
One gained at the price of your soul, they said
And what living sprung from this solid ground, I whispered
That night emerald streaks traced the sky
I walked along the shore
Until two indigo eyes met mine
Her face more radiant
Than my imagination ever patched together
From years of glimpses
She sang a song of a lost city
One I knew by heart having heard only catches
There was life to be had in the luminescent depths
Amid the regrets and ruminations of attempts past
But nothing new to be built
Hours passed in conversation of soul and song
I felt a heaviness as I stood to leave
But she smiled, slipping soundlessly into the waves
As pale pink light breaks across the horizon
And the last glimpses of coastline become harder to catch
Between the trees racing past my window
I still hum her tune
It heralds something worth seeking, worth breaking and beginning again
How to Drown/Sandcastles
By Ardea Eichner
One blustery morning; on the last December dawn,
I was born into this world; to wail, and sigh, and yawn.
My tiny body caked in mud – from the sea my mother called home,
Soon I’d learn these earthy ways; amidst the salty foam.
As a child I stayed ashore; my father taught me to build
with rocks, and sand, and reeds I found – with this, I’d be fulfilled.
My idols praised my castles, and gave me shiny shells;
Although I didn’t know what was coming: that deepwater delve.
I’ve been drowned before; and I’ll be drowned again!
But I’ll be damned if I could see where this began…
I’ve drowned; and flailed around; but here’s why I’m worried more:
Every other time that I’ve drowned, I built sandcastles upon the seafloor.
I’ve been drowned before; and I’ll be drowned again!
But I’ve been damned if I couldn’t still set me up to win!
I’ve spluttered; and uttered prayers of pain; and wondered what it’s for;
But every other time that I drowned, I built sandcastles on the deep seafloor.
When I grew I ventured out, into the vastness unexplored.
Wading first, then diving down – into the depths I came to abhor.
I never quite learned to swim; perhaps I never will.
But despite my cowardice, I kept some of that thrill.
The thrilling sight of sandcastles; and how I’d set them so –
The thrilling gifts of shells and praise from those I’d come to know.
But now, my problem stems just there: I’ve lost the knack to build…
Ever since I moved away I’ve wondered if I faked that skill.
I spent a year just braiding baskets; I spent a year away.
But I never thought I’d lose it all, if I didn’t stay…
I’m tired; I’m wired; although I’ve always been.
I wish that I could stay…
I wish that I could play
Upon that golden sand all day; but that’s not how to win…
I’ve been drowned before; and I’ll be drowned again!
But I’ve been damned if I couldn’t still set me up to win!
I’ve spluttered; and uttered prayers of pain; and wondered what it’s for;
But every other time that I drowned, I built sandcastles on the deep seafloor
Travels Yet To Come
by Darcy Pound
Step out into the world equipped with a passion for travel.
Journey as far as you can, see as much as you desire.
Past snow top mountains and golden plains,
across painted skies and clear blue seas.
Every place you go and story you create will be well worth your wait.
Travel the globe and be awed abroad.
Though your time to wander may be yet to come, know that your journey is still young.
