Main Sections of Website
Hope For The Oceans
Endangered Oceanic Species
Endangered Oceanic Habitats
Collegiate Level Study Programs
Quotes About The Oceans
Poetry About The Oceans
Islands of the South Pacific
Just For Kids
Hope For The Rain Forests
The strong shore is my beloved
And I am his sweetheart.
We are at last united by love, and
Then the moon draws me from him.
I go to him in haste and depart
Reluctantly, with many
I steal swiftly from behind the
Blue horizon to cast the silver of
My foam upon the gold of his sand, and
We blend in melted brilliance.
I quench his thirst and submerge his
Heart; he softens my voice and subdues
At dawn I recite the rules of love upon
His ears, and he embraces me longingly.
At eventide I sing to him the song of
Hope, and then print smooth kisses upon
His face; I am swift and fearful, but he
Is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. His
Broad bosom soothes my restlessness.
As the tide comes we caress each other,
When it withdraws, I drop to his feet in
Many times have I danced around mermaids
As they rose from the depths and rested
Upon my crest to watch the stars;
Many times have I heard lovers complain
of the smallness, and I helped them to sigh.
Many times have I stolen gems from the
Depths and presented them to my beloved
Shore. He takes in silence, but still
I give for he welcomes me ever.
In the heaviness of night, when all
Creatures seek the ghost of Slumber, I
Sit up, singing at one time and sighing
At another. I am awake always.
Alas! Sleeplessness has weakened me!
But I am a lover, and the truth of love
I may weary, but I shall never die.
Praise be to Nero’s neptune
The Titanic sails at dawn
And everybody’s shouting
Which side are you on?
And Ezra Pound and t. s. eliot
Fighting in the captain’s tower
While calypso singers laugh at them
And fishermen hold flowers
Between the windows of the sea
Where lovely mermaids flow
And nobody has to think too much
About desolation row
must go down to the seas again, to
the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and
the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray
go down to the seas again, for the call
of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be
And all I ask is a windy day with the white
And the flung spray and the blown spume,
and the sea-gulls crying.
go down to the seas again, to the
vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way, where
the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the
long trick's over
on the ebb tide beach everything
we pick up
After the storm
the sea is calm
Once dark clouds,
threatening and cold,
the light again
over now gentle waters
Peace surrounds us
Fears fade away
Chill winds that stirred
and left us cold and shaking
are now at rest.
Life again fills with light,
calming fears of life's storm
that rise within oneself.
Beyond the clouds
the sun is always shining
the sky is always blue.
Clouds change and waves
rise and fall, come and go.
The unchanging is eternal.
Storms are but awhile
and so with faith I wait!
Light overcomes darkness.
The gentle breeze
awakens my spirit.
My soul is ready for the new day.
Beautiful is God's creation and love
and I embrace the Eternal embracing me!
N. Ellsworth Bunce 1998
Among the market greens,
from the ocean
I saw you,
All around you
of the earth,
of the ocean
of the unknown,
of the sea,
only you had survived,
a pitch-black, varnished
to deepest night.
Only you, well-aimed
from the abyss,
mangled at one tip,
at anchor in the current,
in the swift
a mourning arrow,
dart of the sea,
olive, oily fish.
I saw you dead,
a deceased king
of my own ocean,
only dead remains,
in all the market
was the only
the bewildering rout
amid the fragile greens
a solitary ship,
among the vegetables,
fin and prow black and oiled,
as if you were still
the vessel of the wind,
the one and only
the waters of death.
whatever we lose (like a you or a me)
it's always ourselves we find in the sea
To the short night ending-
close to the water's edge
The heart can think of no devotion
Greater than being shore to the ocean-
Holding the curve of one position,
Counting an endless repetition.
wish I could tell you about the South Pacific. The way it
The endless ocean. The infinite specks of
coral we called islands. Coconut
palms nodding gracefully
toward the ocean. Reefs upon which waves broke into
spray, and inner lagoons, lovely beyond description. I wish
I could tell you
about the sweating jungle, the full moon
rising behind volcanoes, and the
waiting. The waiting. The
timeless, repetitive waiting.
James A. Michener
From "Tales of the South Pacific”
You've asked me what the lobster is weaving there with
his golden feet?
I reply, the ocean knows this.
You say, what is the ascidia waiting for in its transparent
bell? What is it waiting for?
I tell you it is waiting for time, like you.
You ask me whom the Macrocystis alga hugs in its arms?
Study, study it, at a certain hour, in a certain sea I know.
You question me about the wicked tusk of the narwhal,
and I reply by describing
how the sea unicorn with the harpoon in it dies.
You enquire about the kingfisher's feathers,
which tremble in the pure springs of the southern tides?
Or you've found in the cards a new question touching on
the crystal architecture
of the sea anemone, and you'll deal that to me now?
You want to understand the electric nature of the ocean
The armored stalactite that breaks as it walks?
The hook of the angler fish, the music stretched out
in the deep places like a thread in the water?
I want to tell you the ocean knows this, that life in
is endless as the sand, impossible to count, pure,
and among the blood-colored grapes time has made the petal
hard and shiny, made the jellyfish full of light
and untied its knot, letting its musical threads fall
from a horn of plenty made of infinite mother-of-pearl.
I am nothing but the empty net which has gone on ahead
of human eyes, dead in those darknesses,
of fingers accustomed to the triangle, longitudes
on the timid globe of an orange.
I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star,
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked,
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.
I walked on the ocean strand,
A pearly shell was in my hand;
I stooped, and wrote upon the sand
My name, the year, the day.
As onward from the sport I passed,
One lingering look behind I cast,
A wave came rolling high and fast,
And washed my lines away.
Hannah Flagg Gould
Over the years you have been hunted
by the men who throw harpoons
And in the long run he will kill you
jus to feed the pets we raise,
put the flowers in your vase
and make the lipstick for your face.
Over the years you swam the ocean
Following feelings of your own
Now you are washed up on the shoreline
I can see your body lie
It's a shame you have to die
to put the shadow on our eye
Maybe we'll go,
Maybe we'll disappear
It's not that we don't know,
It's just that we don't want to care.
Under the bridge
Over the foam
Wind on the water,
Carry me home.
David Crosby -from Wind On The Water
on, deep and dark blue ocean, roll. Ten thousand fleets sweep over thee in
vain. Man marks the earth with ruin, but his control stops with the shore."
- I sit by the sea
- And let the waves talk
- With stories of days
- About seafarers of old
and sailors so bold
- And frigate birds high
in the sky.
- The lapping of the
- Recalls better days
- When our people were
free to roam
- The great oceans wide
- With the wind and
stars as our guide
- Looking for some place
Those mythical men
We will never see again
And gods that we still
call our own
How the world came to be
For people like me
Where our spirits forever
- Now the waves on the
- Don't seem the same
- Their stories full of
- Are filled with a
- About global warming
and its consequences
- For our people on the
Yet I still sit by the sea
While the waves talk to me
With stories of days gone
About seafarers of old and
sailors right bold
And frigate birds high in