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On High Seas
my proclivities surge . . .
Woosh! Skitter-dunk! Swirly-dooo!
Surging is ceaseless, a jetty corkscrew!
Foamy and frothy in shimmy shampoo
tide came in . . . terra firma went adieu.
Ahoy! Voyage upon relentless ripples
invigorating spray to sprig the nipples
a year-long sloop-jag of jazzy diddles
awash in enigma and racy riddles.
It took a year for my spunk to bonk
reverberating now like ear to conch
high seas buffeted on a beastly bronc
then island-ditched, a worthless wonk.
The moment seafaring feet hit land
reconfigured what it meant to stand
a gentler curse would be death by quicksand
than to bounce along on a rubberband.
Long after that sea trek, life undulates
as the land rises up and then deflates
at times my navigation up and rotates
and my equilibrium needs to fluctuate.
I’m afraid my mastoid is forever void
not to mention, my wits are destroyed
my rhyming rhizoid is now unemployed
since my…
