they fell from a tolleycroft trawler
(about a mile off the gary dock)
tossed in a bottlenose gulf stream
partially pasted on ruk and crustacean
belly ******* ragged
fender bent rolling
drifting on krill chop
past o' malleys
down juan de fuca
rubbing grain
into the gun barrel sea

twisted benjamins
nipped by the hungry swell
blunt on a wayward log
deep in the gutty storm
slack jaw, skinned
medling
over phosphorescence
and grayling
and cold erratic flow
(oh those seedy finman!)

driftwood gorge
at celebration light
sun carts rise
to the homecoming
(**** that nuisance moon!)
crimson tide
and contraband
strung on the greyhound
intervention essentials
with menacing roots

these crackers lack
all disposition
and tact
an enemy mask
lies deep within
blinded rodmen
on a shoreline retreat
where the franklin bills
are spinning

He is a sunken chest at the bottom of the ocean.
Rusted rough on the outside.
Swim to find him, hold your breath.
Open him up and you'll find nothing other than perfect,
solid gold.

What words of  beauty could ever near thy beauty?
Thou art fairer than Seraphs of heaven,
Peerless than the fairest night skie's sentry,
For paradise, thine eyes dost betoken.
Long I've sailed in my boat of poetry,
With golden oars of fairest metaphors,
Craving to fish thee some words of sheer beauty,
From whispering rills, from wildest rivers,
Down a silvery halcyon sea, thought,
Where often I wonder from shore to shore;
But dusk fades, dawn breaks having fished naught,
'Tis then fair nymphs croon me a tune so low:

"For she's nothing but a beauty reflection,
What on earth could near her beauty complexion?"


©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
Jumeira, Dubai
30th June 2017


   **Literally, I penned this sonnet many moons ago to a person who might read it never and so I decided to keep it...., but, on passing by beauteous roses wafting an ineffable scent upon whispering winds this morn,  transfixed I was struck by a violent thought, "Why not to as well whisper such a lovely sonnet unto the mighty winds that dost blow from shores of the east to the western clime as to caress souls of all lovers at HelloPoetry who spared their precious time to pray for such an amateur Bard like me when I was bedridden a couple of days back?"
     Honestly, I may not be able to thank everyone of Ye in person, but wholeheartedly I dedicate such a lovely sonnet to Ye.

Thank goodness I'm now feeling better and ready to share with Ye once again.

Silhouettes emerge from the night lunar tide
lives still wriggling in their net
ghostly figures from the sea silken wide
reaping riches from the waves in spate.

The night a luminous smile wears
the belly is fired up for a bite
dried leaves would burn under stars
brewing another day under moonlight.

Mariners when not venturing into deep sea
release passions on the shallow shelf
harvest hope though the catch is measly
breathing in the winds the aroma of kelp.

I feel having long belonged to this place
wading breakers in the phosphorus' glow
gathering in my net a strange happiness
craving home when the tide is low.

Sailing through the
midnight sky,
Sailing through the
midnight sea,
in a boat of moon.

Fishing for my dream,
so far
Fishing for my dream,
so near
My rope - a single moonbeam
and my bait- one silver star

Dying alone
in this kingdom
by the sea,
watching stars
going out...

In the restless waves,
In the shimmering blue...

My eyes are closed,
my heart has gone silent,
But a song will travel
upon a wind of memories
across the sea...

Where the river abandons herself to the creek
and the mudbank is cratered with crabclaws
waits the old man.

He doesn't know his years
but his ears are a sonic gift
catching the tonal variations of tides
seemingly for eons
evolving with the mangrove map
into a flawless tracker
of how far the moon would recline
for ***** to be holed out
and what shoreline the water would touch
before the shrimps starlight driven
make a beeline for the net.

I encountered him once
in the absurdity of a time
when I was high
and he lowly crouching
was making art by the creek.

Who was the poet
I could never tell.

The night has begun, let's take a ride, our usual moonlight drive.
Let's swim through the mystery of the sea, you and me let's drown tonight.

You and me baby under the sky, free of them, free of disguise.
Falling in love, rolling and consuming the lines of the tide.

I try and i try, then i light a cigarette
I keep telling myself, learn to forget, learn to forget.


Words Of Harfouchism.