POETRY BY ZORA - THE OCEAN
Today! The horizon seems far away
Across the blue waters the beautiful bay.
The line draws so taut and straight as a string
A ship sails along it. A beautiful thing.
The blue of the ocean, the grey of the sky
The drum beat of waves, a ship sailing by,
Each day its' so different, its never the same,
The ocean is one thing that man cannot tame.
FOR MY MEMORY CHEST
I must try to keep in mind, all the beauty that I find,
And stow it for some future rainy day,
to remind me when I'm old, of the shrinking hours of gold,
That I spent along the Coast of Monterey.
For I may not always be, in Carmel beside the sea.
And I may not always be at Monterey,
I may leave that lovely cove, at old Pacific Grove,
But I'll sure remember every shining day.
I'll remember all the flowers, all the lazy pleasant hours,
That I spent beside this singing western sea,
Then when I am far away, where things are not so gay,
Every hour will come winging back to me.
ON A DAY LIKE THIS
On a day like this when the sun is out,
And the wind blows wild and free,
I love to sit on a high rough crag,
And watch the restless sea.
To watch the white capped waves dash high,
And toss their soft white spray,
To sink and rise as the tide rolls on...
From day to endless day.
Oh! I love to watch this eternal show,
And none of it would I miss,
When the sun is bright and the wind is high,
By the sea on a day like this.
SAILING IN CIRCLES
(Written in 1940)
For sixty years I've sailed around in circles very wide,
And steered my craft as best I might, with starlight for my guide.
I've hoped and hoped to come at last upon an open sea,
Where s'mother waters passed me by, and new shores could I see.
But as of old Columbus sailed and sailed on and on and on,
When dipping anchors all have failed and hope seemed almost gone,
The circles narrow dizzily, and faster round I go,
The sky is overshadowed, and I hear the cries of woe.
What shall I say oh dizzy heart, to keep my craft from wreck,
What say but like Columbus said, "Sail on, sail on by heck."
(s'mother means smothering love)
MY DREAM SHIP
The sun is not out, it is cloudy today,
I can see a dark ship on an ocean of gray,
The sails are not set, just the spar standing high,
Like a tall tree that burned and ready to die,
It keeps sailing along with the mast standing high,
I know it's my dreamship passing me by.
THE CLIPPER SHIP, VIRGINIA SNOW
When the Clipper ship was Queen of the wave,
The skippers were bold, and the seamen brave,
When men went sailing uncharted seas,
Depending entirely on sail and breeze,
Someone built a clipper the very best,
Eager to travel, she could not rest,
The name her builder? I do not know,
But a Queen I think, was Virginia Snow
I imagine she sailed up teh western coast,
Past the Witch tree and past the ghost,
Around all the Points, to Pacific Grove,
To anchor while in that quiet cove.
Then around the shore lin to Monterey,
To linger a time in that lovely bay,
Can anyone tell me? I'd love to know,
The beginning and end of Virginia Snow.
I would like this rug to commemorate,
The Virginia Snow, and her doubtful fate.
Out of Order
'Twould be foolish to keep in order,
These poems that I find
Along the shores of the ocean
There are poems of every kind.
Poems are where you find them,
On the rocks, on the sand, or in trees,
You can even find lovely poems,
On the wing of an ocean breeze.
I find them high on Point Lobos,
And at Carmel by the Sea,
Out on the rocks at Pacific Grove,
They still whisper poems to me.
But if I tried to arrange them,
In correct and proper array,
It would not be the Peninsula,
And it would not be Monterey,
So I shall not try to arrange them,
These poems that come to me.
And I will not try to change them,
They too seem wild and free,
I might find a bit of driftwood,
And whittle it into a bird,
But these lovely natural poems,
I would not change one word.
IT CAME TO ME IN A DREAM
It came to me in a dream one day
As I lay on the sand at rest,
Cooled by the breeze and the ocean spray,
Watching a high wave crest.
You have read all about the mermaids,
And the sea urchins too if you please,
How they were the children of Neptune,
They played with toys like these.
The pebbles were sea urchins marbles,
And jackstones and shooting beans,
The seashells belonged to the mermaids,
For platters and plates and tureens.
Also for cups and saucers,
To drink their whale milk and tea,
But one day their father got angry
And threw them all into the sea.
And so the sea children go wandering,
All over the deep blue sea,
Trying to find their playthings,
Wherever they may be.
Take a boatride on the bay,
Watch the seagulls at their play,
Listen to what the sealions say,
Get all wet with flying spray,
Then call it just another day,
Wasted away, wasted away.
I WOULD LIKE TO LIVE FOREVER
I would like to live forever, in Carmel beside the Sea,
I would like to live forever, it's the perfect home for me,
I would like to live forever, where the time is always spring,
'Neath the trees beside the ocean, where the bluebirds nest and sing,
Where the breeze is always blowing, and the people seem so gay,
I would like to live forever, forever and a day.
I would like to live forever, on the wharf at Monterey,
To watch the boats unloading, and the sealions at their play,
To watch the happy children, and the sea birds on the shore,
On that wharf of matchless magic, I could live forevermore.
I would like to live forever, in that quiet little cove,
Where the pleasure boats are drifting, at old Pacific Grove,
Where the light tower on Point Pinos, sheds it's bright and beaming ray,
I would like to live forever, forever and a day.
I would like to live forever, on the highlands scenic drive,
Where the mists hangs down in streamers, it is good to be alive,
And where along the coastline, that my feet have taken me,
I would like to live forever, in Carmel beside the Sea.
I love the rock formations I find along the coast,
The piles of spendid masonry, that only God can boast,
I climb upon a pinacle, I step down in a cove,
I love the rock formations, around Pacific Grove.
WHICH IS WHICH?
White clouds sail high, in the deep blue sky.
White waves on the deep blue ocean,
I cannot distinguish the line between,
And the whole world seems in motion,
The foam swift on the wavecrest,
The white clouds swift on high,
Is the sky reflecting ocean?
Or the ocean reflecting sky?
ON AND ON THE STORY GOES, AND WHERE IT ENDS NOBODY KNOWS!
So, I walked to the end of a Carmel street, that ends at the Carmel beach,
Enjoying the breeze that was cool and sweet, and to learn what the sea could teach,
I carried a Kodak to take some views, to send to my pet grandaughter,
And to pen some rhymes that would be good news, from the voices of wind and water,
But the sun hid his face in a thick gray veil, of fog and the high flung spray,
Gone was the yacht with the snow white sail, and gone was the sunkissed day.
I took a snap of some steps of stone, but I do not know if they're good,
Pictures are dim when the sun is gone, and dim is the Poet's mood.
So I sit me down in a sheltered nook, to rest my weary feet,
To write some verse, or maby a book. Ee'r I climb those steps to the street,
If my views are dim, and my song not gay, just charge it to circumstance,
And I'll come again on a brighter day, to catch the wild waves dance,
I wished for you with my heart and my head, but somehow I could not find you,
I hope you were tucked up snug in your bed, with your tail tucked in behind you,
For the sand where I sit is cold and damp, the wet fog clings like mold,
My torso and branches are starting to cramp, and Darling, my tale is told.
There must be some disturbance along the ocean floor,
The way those angry breakers dash their spray against the shore
Perhaps some deep sea monster has old Neptune by the tail,
Or maybe another Jonah has been swallowed by a whale,
Are they frightened? Are they angry? Are the merely just at play,
As they chase each other, in their race across the bay.
I walk on the beach by the side of the bay,
Picking up treasure I find on the way,
And I wish you could walk on the beach by my side,
Picking up wreckage tossed up by the tide.
Queer little pebbles and pieces of shell,
I wish I could fathom the story they tell,
If stones and if pebbles and seashells could talk,
If the thiings that they once were could get up and walk,
I am sure they could tell me quite wonderful tales,
Of mermaids and urchins and walrus and whales.
CONTINUE TO ZORA'S POETRY COLLECTION
BACK TO GAP7 INDEX
BACK TO MAIN INDEX