Buried Deep, the Sea


Buried deep within

Me, the Sea moves, has seasons

Some all in one day

Moody as heart’s history

Careless of soul’s mystery

Its blue changes hue

 ‘Gainst mildest tide, hurls passion

Then brooding, retreats

Vengeful killer one minute

Healing balm another day

Kindles madness…yet

Draws me back like first lover

Salt waves swallow tears

Mingled with late father’s blood

His laughter singing chantey

“Oh, the Doralea, she was quite a dame…

Take me home now, lady…”

©Leyde Ryan, 2022 ~ All rights reserved.

Poetry, Bundled Words

Poet bundles together

Words like laundry hot

From clothes dryer, briefly

Stinging hands—but the burn

Is deeper, sears heart’s marrow

Blisters wildly looping thoughts…

Madness like plague for which

There’s no vaccine…occult viral

Infection feverishly strings letters

Together ‘mid soul’s condition

Which is not exclusive—similar

Words, thoughts, wounds mark

Survivors who may meet by

Happenstance, recognize

Each other:  scars’, bruises’

Distinctive coloration…

And slight keen smell

Of bleached laundry

©Leyde Ryan, 2022 ~ All rights reserved.



Variation, Same Theme


There’s little variation

In the recurring dreams

Same theme—madness

They’re not dreams


Peopled by same cast

Of characters which

Brought, fostered

Chaos, dysfunction—

All being heirs to a

Strain of this insanity—

How many baskets, buckets

Would it take to fill up bitter

Agony, hatred…carry it away—

I did not imagine

Everything that happened

Just because they don’t

Remember…doesn’t mean

I’m crazy

©Leyde Ryan, 2022 ~ All rights reserved.