Ship of Dreams… By Toni Cross

Last image from the photo challenge by Charles Martin


Sitting on the pier  

What a beautiful day  

No traces of fear  

And nothing to say  


Looking up at the ship of dreams  

The waves lap like a kitten  

A lone seagull screams  

And somehow I’m smitten  


It’s destiny I suppose  

Creaky new boards  

These sails and ropes in rows  

The clanking of swords  


But to never see the shore…  

To lose sight of firm ground  

Just water- more and more  

Fierce waves that rise and pound  


Fog and dark of stormy night  

salty world of endless  tears  

aching surging windy might  

rain surf driven spears  


Desperation and adventure skim  

Beneath the surface of the water  

Like a siren on a whim  

Neptune’s fairest daughter  


Sitting on the pier  

For courage I pray  

No coward face to leer  

And nothing to say  



A Pitcher Full of Time… By Toni L.A. Cross


My fellow poet Charles Martin sent me this photo of his as a photo/poetry challenge. (Make sure you click on his name, to check out some of his work!)

Having recently watched the movie Inception, I’ve been thinking extensively about time. Thus, the two things have melded into this.



People ask how time as we know it


And why cruel death stole into our world

They ask if eternity

Is a line or a circle, meter or a wheel?

But it is neither and it is both

Eternity is liquid

Within an endless, bottomless void

There are no lapping shores of time

There is no rocky bottom

Its ripple-rings spread out


Eternity cannot

Should not

Be contained


Long ago in eternity past

Whispers of doubt and deceit

Filled the once untainted mind of man

Pride was born

And stretched itself

Like a cat awakening

What if eternity was caught?

What if it was compressed

Into boundaries and space?

Ageless immortal hands

That had never known disease

Dug into the earth from whence they came

And scooped up humble clay

Moist and soft

He flung it on a wheel

Spinning, spinning wheel.

Man shaped his own creation

Dampening his labor

With the sweat of his own conceit

Building and throwing down

Immense and elaborate plans

Grandiose schemes made of mud


Simplicity struck his tired being

And in that blasphemous workshop

A rude pitcher resulted

The surface he hardened

With the heat of his burning anger

To think that God had lied

That eternity was now his to control


He grasped the handle

Reaching into the void

He scooped up eternity

Into his vessel

And held it triumphantly aloft

But some things are not meant

To be made that small

And unbeknownst to him

The essence within had changed

He grasped not eternity

But lost it altogether

And was left with a base extracted matter




But generations lauded

This failed attempt of man

Raising a temple of sorts

On an arid desert plain

Guarding the pitcher

With great blocks of sandstone

Until time was lost within itself

To evaporate slowly


In this sepulcher of independence


river rough life… by Toni L.A. Cross

pulsing thrum of ecstasy
roaring along the current

sweeping away relational casualties
carelessly tossed as driftwood

icy cold danger and razor sharp hazards
Hiding just beneath the surface

blood-red rapids and rocks up ahead

plunging falls foaming froth

speeding and slamming into reality
a harsh and stinging slap-splash
bubbles of life forced out of within

queer world of filtered shadows
with nothing to breathe
suspended creatures flit by in sight
not caring or noticing a thing

kick, fight, and reach
pull towards the light

or sink to the bottom
and mix with murky clouds of silt
a prisoner for all time

drop fall, written by Toni L.A. Cross 2/23/10

a single drop


suspended in space


with life within


a single drop


careening downward still


soaking filling giving


nourishing quenching fully

dewy amhrán, written by Toni L.A. Cross on 12/2/09

running along the curve
flowing together
making their path
tiny droplets
joining into mini rivers
puddling together
collecting in the hollows
little lochan
shiny pools of fairy tears
finding stillness
as they settle into depths
tiny flashes
glinting off the surface calm