La Manzanilla sunsets are always spectacular, but tonight’s ranked right up there with the best. (Enlarge photos by clicking on them.)
Tropical Christmas Agenda
I’m tired of snowy and of cold.
I prefer weather less bold.
Forget the frost. Forget the ice.
Some trade winds would be rather nice.
Sand and surf would hit the spot
in a place where snow is not.
More intrigue near the steaming beach.
Romance is somehow more in reach,
perhaps because sans scarf and mitten
the chance for one to be more smitten
over vast amounts of skin
creates a greater chance of sin.
And so, so much for Nordic pleasures.
I prefer the island treasures
of a fresh pina colada
over the yada yada yada
of another Christmas season
so devoid of charm and reason.
Keep your presents and your nog,
your carols and your Yule log.
I choose a hammock and a book
and swimsuit for my Christmas look.
The prompt words are intrigue, snowy and frost. Here are the links:
Click on first photo to enlarge all.
It doesn’t often rain at the beach, so on this day, I availed myself of the opportunity to get these shots. If they seem excessive, I probably shouldn’t admit I took 83!!! Click on any photo to enlarge all.
For Cee’s Rain or Rainbows prompt.
I have not changed the color in any way in these photos. It was really this bright. You can find more sunset photos of this night and a poem HERE.
Click first photo to enlarge all.. Ho hum, as usual. I put this instruction here for new viewers.. sorry, old hands. Don’t mean to insult you.
Click on any photo to enlarge all.
The constant undulation and the murmur of the waves.
The crashing of the breakers as they beat against the caves
carved out by the chisel of the water making hives
at the edges of the world that ensconced our busy lives.
It craved us as its audience. It pulled us to its shore.
It calmed our petty grievances with its might roar.
When it chose to rage it could wipe away our world,
sweeping us away as its anger came unfurled.
At other times it lapped at us, assuaging all our pain.
That’s why we returned to it, over and again.
Walked along its edges, pierced its salty deep,
uncovering the secrets so long within its keep.
Every morning it brought treasures to our waiting hands
to examine as we walked along the morning-evened sands.
Dollars from the ocean depths, stars out of the sea––
left there to be taken or to be let be
for the next beachcomber to claim them for their own
to treasure on a mantel what the sea had thrown
like necklaces at mardi gras, cast blindly and for free
for denizens of dry worlds to collect on bended knee.
What we cast back on the waters determines ultimately
what the sea will one day give back to you and me,
and if we do not listen to the truth the tides may tell,
the music of the waves may be our funeral knell.
The prompt today is undulate.
They float upon the gentle swells,
with chins tucked in politely.
Of all the birds, most dignified,
their movements never sprightly.
They look like grumpy butlers
named Oliver or Jeeves
in morning coats of softest gray
with wings tucked in their sleeves.
They may be only scouting
the source of their next meal,
for soon they take off to the air
with energy and zeal.
And soon they’re diving down again,
straight like an arrow shot,
down into the shallows
to see what can be caught.
Bobbing once again,
they lift their bills and then let slide
all that’s in their pouches
to another place inside.
I wonder if the fishes flop
all the long way down,
and this is why the pelicans
then fold their arms and frown?
The prompt today is shallow. This poem is a rewrite of a poem published a few years ago..