wild wonderful whales

Wind Wonderful Whales

 
Wild wonderful whales wandering 
the wet welcome waters of the Pacific
Enough of you we can’t seem to get
Each sighting a little fête.

What do you think when the little boats full of tourists 
speed toward you from all directions
as if there’s some emergency,
when all they want 
are a few moments communion 
with your majesty, 
to lay their eyes upon the body of the queen of the sea, 
to see you skin shimmering in the morning sun. 

Wild wonderful whales wandering 
the wet welcome waters of the Pacific
Enough of you we can’t seem to get
Each sighting a little fête.

Do you sense our delight
when you jump with all your might? 
Such an amazing sight! 
You are so grand, 
we can see you from land
up here on our balcony where we stand, 
drawn like magnets to your magnificence. 

Wild wonderful whales wandering 
the wet welcome waters of the Pacific
Enough of you we can’t seem to get
Each sighting a little fête.
It’s as if you can hear our oohi-ng and ahh-ing 
carrying from way up here 
a joyful song floating from afar. 
A spray to get our attention, 
a breach to show off your size,
bigger than the little tourist boats
gathered up along side you,
a great jump – and a splash
your big black back crashing
into the deep blue sea,
white water shooting like fireworks 
in a summer sky. 

Wild wonderful whales wandering 
the wet welcome waters of the Pacific
Enough of you we can’t seem to get
Each sighting a little fête.

Oops! I decided there was one more poem I want to share from my Gathering at the Sea collection, written in January 2021. This poem is about one of our big delights when whiling away the days in sunny San Agustinillo. Below, you can find other poems from my little collection previously posted here, along with a bonus photo:

on a torn wing

with wonder and delight

Exhilaration

The Ocean

little shell

a song of escape

Many of these poems, including wild wonderful whales, are part of an online collection I call Little Morsels of Delight.

Cousins

Doolin, County Clare, Ireland

This poem was written in response to a prompt in How to Write Poetry: A Guided Journal with Prompts to Ignite Your Imagination related to imagery. The recommendation was to make a list of images conveying grief, anger and love ( I added delight since that is what I happened to be feeling a the time), and then exploring what they have in common.

Cousins
 
I grieve
with a deep ache
a longing for something lost;
I hold an emptiness
as thick as a 500-year old tree.
 
I delight
with a child’s joy
a spontaneous spirit;
an unbound energy
as light as the free-flowing air we breathe.
 
I anger
filled with fear
a disconnect with my Self;
an instant reaction
as sharp as the blade of the kitchen knife.
 
I love
my heart wide open
a need to touch something true;
feeling for solid ground
as real as the earth below my two feet.
 
In life’s vast field,
grief and delight, anger and love
play like cousins
in the grass of spring.

This poem is part of an online collection I call Meditative Blossoms.

from my 8-year-old-self

spring robin playing in birdbath

Dear Vicki,

Isn’t life good?

Aren’t you grateful for your family, your education, your health?

You have so much – you are fortunate that you can play and enjoy life.

Make time for friends and FUN – be silly!

Enjoy learning.

Never turn down a chance to play (especially with a dog!).

Don’t be afraid of things that are only in your imagination.

Lose yourself in how it feels to see, hear, be touched in and by the world.

Take time to sit in the big chair and read – RELAX.

Eat that tasty treat without regret.

I wish you a life filled with joy and delight. May your heart be open, your mind be clear, and your senses alive to fully experience life’s pleasures.

Your 8-year-old-self

I wrote this letter to myself as a recommended activity when I was moving through The Artist’s Way. I came across the hand-written message tucked in the back of my personal journal, having just finished filling all the pages and about to put it on the shelf. My hope I’ll never forget the 8-year-old that lives inside of me and the ever-present invitation to open to life without stories and judgement. What would your 8-year-old-self say to you? (Previously I posted a letter from my 80-year-old-self.)