366 Poems: DECEMBER 31ST, 2016

New Me, Still MeĀ 


I took a trip outside the reef

to where white seabirds soar,

and took upon an ocean

that I’d sailed some years before.

And the tides pulled a different way

than planned, but I won’t groan

from friends and falls and memories

that made this sea a home.

Now imagine a little girl

looking out with no name.

Imagine a young woman

looking inward just the same.

Imagine they are meeting,

turning onward and before.

Imagine seabirds flying–

calling, searching,






366 Poems: October 11th, 2016


I’m going to miss this place

with its million shades of blue,

with its nooks and crannies and tall,

tall mountains to get lost in.

I’m going to miss the sun.

I’m going to miss the smiles.

I’m going to miss the idea of my home

being a million miles away,

and the bittersweet belief that I would come back


But the clouds are crawling up the mountain

and the tide’s flowing away,

leaving the sudden wreckage I once was

and the fear that I might always




366 Poems: March 17th, 2016


If I could spend each passing day

just like the dolphin’s endless play,

I would do so without delay.

And though I know that some would say

that I’m throwing my life away,

I’ll leave them with a salty spray.


Because we all deserve to be happy.

366 Poems: January 12th, 2016


I sit on the sand of the ocean floor:

clean, pristine, and worn by time.

The white floor stretches miles around

without a change in sight

and I sit, cross-legged, on the floor

with the green blue waters up

over my head

close enough to see the sun’s rays hit the sand

but far enough away

that I can reach my hand up and still not touch the air.

There’s no oxygen

down here in the blue,

and yet I am not bothered by this.

It is not that I can breathe underwater,

but that I don’t need to breathe

and I can just sit there for hours.

For days…

And I would look up at the waves

and see the sunlight changing their color,

see that above me they are crashing

and churning

and leaving marbled pictures on the sea floor,

yet they still cannot touch me

and neither I to them.


Do you know what I’d give to feel like this?