The Plight of Penguins

Aimlessly we are marching towards the sea.
Forcing luck, we say we’re bound to blue skies.
We’re told there’s no ocean to hear our plea,
Vehemently we strain our wings to fly.
Skies above: the opposite of shelter.
What’s left blue, now grey; a common constant.
“At least no rain!” says snow in mock laughter.
We gather against the raging onset.
A killing edge formed between tide and shore.
We are many swallowed and few returned.
They are waiting for us, whom we adore,
There are mistakes some fear we can’t unlearn.
In spite of our current plight, we press on,
Surviving each day till the next new dawn.

As Searchings Go

The searching’s slow,
As searchings go.
Moonrise does naught to slow
The ebb and flow
When one fails to find
What the shore has left behind.
Though who leaves who
When the waves leave first
And the shore remains to question you.
Alas the land that never goes
Here I stand and I shall see
If the sand shall go before me.
When washed away with the tide, we,
Become who we’re meant to be
And swimming back through the storm
To discover ourseleves waiting ashore.

Observing Tide

An angel looked dismayed as they were walking by,
In the morning light reflected off of pools of blood collecting flys,
Buzzards, vultures, coyotes, and the occasional hyena.
No longer to delay,
Awake another blood-filled day,
Out of the sea; the five heads of the beast were screaming.
No one asked for the heroes,
And thought of them as zeros
While they were fighting the beast that didn’t need exterminating.
Morning came again with the red tide.
So many fallen that should not have died,
From ignorance alone,
The beast called the sea his home.
And so will many more after this reading.
Cheers to the callous fools who have no feeling.
I do not often see red tide retreating.

A Rock in the Tide

Each rolling wave, away it takes,
A different part, for its own sake.
Watching the tide come and go,
Watching the sand shift to and fro.
On my rock by the shore
I observe the sand.
Though I’m cold
I have no envy for the warm land.
On my rock I observe the ebb and flow.
Here I am safe
From where the tide decides to go.