Wednesday, July 27, 2011



color springs &
shouts from
the yellow sea of

purple picks the
eye, while white
floorwalls warn
of its dry
soil that
seeps apples seeds.

canary colors connect
the wheel of
as black beaded
beaked birds
perch upon----

                        a particular round
                         tree-Moe Like Hair.

these Spanish senors and
senoritas sit
& stare.

right twists &
left turns connect
the curls,
curling up to
the top of the
lovely lavender
lake atmosphere above—

calm cows sit, see
& suckle
the sticks that
stand straight, that
squeeze their
obliques sideways to
speak to the

weeds wobble &
sprouts spruce &
spray the
Spanish countryside with
the desert’s
color wheel.

Saturday, June 4, 2011


Two hefty hens,
matching halves
of a heart: They
harden and congeal
into one timeless 
piece of art.



sucking Sangria under
her brown brim straw
surveys the
sky, the
salt, the
snakes, the
sassy seagulls
that saunter upon
the Sea's scenery--Her

she observes
the slimy sun-
kissed king: strolling,
strutting into her

sees her
sapphires. he
desires Her
diamonds, Her
brilliant bijous.

the sly
strokes and
strikes the
sultry Sea—
yet, She
sinks and
stashes Her
gems. he
tries to
smooth-talk the
sweet Sea’s
soft sails. he
tries to
suffocate Her
swirls, Her
swells. he
stirring Her
She sees
motive, his

She shoves,
pushes his
plump pink
lips out
of Her
face. She
him out of
Her blue

the brown brim
straw hat daughter
deepens her
loathing for
such sneaky
seaweed. shouting
"solidarity!" she
seeks her

toward the
deep shrieking
Sea. she sees
Her roaring, Her
writhing cries. the
Sea summons
Her dutiful
daughter and
wraps Her
wiggling, white
worms around
her waist. They

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Table of Contents Poem: Sea Castles

Sea Castles

Caroline Sapp

Preface iii
Acknowledgements iv

Chapter 1: Black Sand
Black beads border the deep dark majestic p. 1-2
Torching toes toss the broken shells p. 2-3
Imposing cliffs surround p. 3-4
Mopeds, scooters, & bikes busy the black bustle p. 4-5
Diving deep, discovering the black floor p. 5-6
Turquoise, bold red fish illuminate the inky habitat p. 6-7
Creatures play along the black man’s floor p. 7
Underground flowers flit & flicker, while spear-grass grooves p. 8
Stray dogs romp & run-free p .8-9
Sandals, shoes, & towels are worn ‘round the feet p. 9-10
Champagne bottles pop, while dark men serve in black attire p. 10-11
Brave souls release their sandals & straddle the black man’s water p. 11-12
Black sand scorches, sizzles, & steams p. 12-13

Chapter 2: Red Sand
Crimson colors, streaks across the shoreline p. 13-14
The sea eats this bloody mess p. 14-15
A vast volcano encloses this scarlet paradise p. 15-16
From afar, a reddish pink serenity p. 16-17
Up close, rusty shell carcasses & rubyred wine bottles litter the land p. 17-18
Tan & topless enhances the image p. 18-19
Black bushes & pink layers exposed p. 19-20
hot, hot, hot-they say! this spacious swimming hole p. 20-21
The devil’s carroty Eden illustrates this red sphere, created by ash and fire p. 21-22
Red sand singes, scalds, & reddens p. 22-23

Chapter 3: Rocks
Smooth and slimy sensations swim along the bare feet p. 23-24
Mist and fog settle upon the silver shoreline p. 24
A hazy channel with sea and sky meeting-converging  p. 25
Pirates, misfits, and ghosts may appear p. 25-26
A specter ship, a phantom vessel may materialize in the mist p.26-27
Pale, chilled, & inactive lies this slithering soft sea p. 27
Clear and calm comes the tide, collecting the smooth stones p. 28
Ashen gray, whitish, silvery midnight blue: these glassy, glossy pebbles p. 29
The hazy sea clouds and drizzles p. 29-31
The waves guide the vampiric mermaids to the misty seashore p. 31-32
These alluring sea creatures suck the bystander into their seafaring sharp foam p. 32
Rocks spellbind, seize, & snatch p. 32-34

Chapter 4: Tan Sand
Soft and playful plays the sand p. 34
A Seafarer’s foot, a Wanderer’s toe, or a little Crab’s leg crawls upon this salt p. 35
Aluminum and brown bottles decorate, spot upon the salt as artificial landscape p. 36
Tan, brown, & red lay the sun’s friends p. 37
Skimpy triangle tops and barely there bottoms expose skin p. 37-38
No bushes, no nipples only belly buttons & brown peels p. 38-39
No volcanoes, no dark man’s world only cool, calming salt soothing the feet, the soul p. 40
This water, warm balmy bath water: clear and cool p. 41
Push and paddle past the waves, erect in the gulf’s salty fish bowl p. 41-43
Swimming fishlike searching for a starfish, an oyster shell p. 44
White, lustrous shells spruce the sea’s and salt’s appearance p. 44-45
Schools of fish learn at one’s knees p. 46
Tan sand shapes lazy, lethargic, & loaded delusions p. 46-47

Chapter 5: White Sand
Palm trees paint this West Coast picture p. 47
Dotted with black seeds & broken shells p. 48
Wetsuits & surfers fill the fishdish, filming a flick that resembles a dream p. 48-49
Quaint bars, shabby shacks, & sweet shops showcase the scene p. 49
Calm created for the LA city folk p. 50
Beautiful beings sun bathing, bewitching the beach p. 50-51
Dashing dudes, Hispanic hip-hops posin’ and peacockin’ upon slick slats p. 51-54
The cold mother bites at the nipple, causing a scream or a soothing sensation p. 54
Coaxing one in, she furthers her bite, bringing blood that requires her cool treatment p. 55-57
This strict & strapping sea mother monitors her magical salty sand & swells p. 57-59
She invites one & all: she makes an immense melting pot p. 59-60
White sand produces, promotes, and generates peace p. 61

Copyright 2011 by Tennessee Technological University. All rights reserved.

Printed in the U.S.A.

Library of Congress Catalog Card number: 2011777544

ISBN: 0-546-123554-1

Sonnet Poem: Blossoms&Worms

To seek, follow, to find her love, she sought
And walked, wandered upon summits and cliffs
Peering, pursuing peeps of him; She fought
For signs, shadows, a mark: She lay---adrift.
Her bloom blows beauty for the bees---dreamlike
At that hour, lighting the skies, the stars;
Searching, she sparkles air and land, alike
Not beauty, nor bliss shall fill her jar.
Alas! Withered away went her pretty
Petals wrinkling, wiggling, fading
From the once beautiful blossom; wormy
Beings warp her branches---she is outplayed.
     Neither the love, nor the lover she found,
     And dried and drooped lay the petal---earthbound. 

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

13 Ways Poem: 13 Ways of Lookin' at a Clock

Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Clock

It shrieks! It
screams! The
Clock shouts
“Get up! Get
The clock caught
Quentin Compson.
Tied its
ticking, tocking
time to his
tan shoe---
tugged him down into
the Charles River.
Crimson colors
the college ruled
sheet of paper that
dates 2/13/
08; small 
black print
indicates that
it was
6:00 o’clock.

forceps forcing
the forehead
forward. tug,
tug: pop!
It’s four o’clock.

Each egg
coils with
cracks. Curling and
cracking each
creation as
the internal
clock continues
to tick.

A cold, hard
ebony barrel
holds my
still. The clock
reads 10:26
pm. He has
four minutes.

A clock rules
this family,
At the ting-
They rise.
At the tong-
They eat.
At the tingtong-
The separate.

12 numbers.
2 stems.
White. Black.
Bland Colors.
Plain. Simple. Yet
a clock is
king. Is 
emperor. Is 
karateka. It
can karate-
chop one’s
 job, kick
one’s meetings, elbow 
strike one’s 
life if
one does not
follow it’s
calculated time.

Clocks contaminate
Clocks kill
liberation. Clocks

Time ticks,
passes. The mother
glances, glares
at the gold-rimmed
clock. It’s
midnight. Angry,
No sign
of her

A cuckoo
bird coos at
noon! It
from inside
its cuckoo
clock dwelling!

Each number added
numbs the
youth. Rubs the
adolescent aura from
the face. Each tick
clocks a
rigid line lapping
across the
When Earth’s orbit
reports to
the Clock at
365 days, this
little blue emerald
orb we
believe rules
the universe
and its
obeys the
commands and

Saturday, April 9, 2011

Syllabic Poem: Monkey B/a/r/s/

Monkey B/a/r/s/

A bold smoke bomb explodes
            in the twilight sky
                        showering, slow
                        kaleidoscope kisses
            spilling, splattering wishes
for the hungry, hollow human eye;

It awakens from its
            submerged, seasoned sleep,
                        swelling from pits
                        of dark, damp disregard---
            Consciously crawling! Bombard
its buried bubble, butting the b/a/r/s/

The orb absorbs, perceives
            the gaudy garnish
                        glow and receives
                        a merry memory:
            Mount^i^n^g a sanctuary,
to see the sunset, the sky’s sad smile.

Spooky silhouettes scrape
            the dusky-dying
                        day, while it rapes
                        the forgotten fun-filled
            eves. The limbs, the boughs that peel
back, where one can swing, seesaw, or sway.

Unconcerned, unconscious
            of the springtime scene,
                        scared of shutting out these
            escapades. Memory flees
fast! Falling down! Forgetting---dark d*a*w*n*s*

Sunday, March 6, 2011

Anglo-Saxon Poem: The Solitary Sea

The Solitary Sea

Chirpy chipmunks                                             chirp sassily
from faraway                                         fig trees;
beneath the blue sky,                              bees buzzzz.

While wiggly, wee                                      little girls whoop and wheeze,
gaily giggling, gagging                                  gasping for air!
The sweet sisters sing                         swaying, saucily along!

The decisive dad                                                   deerstalkes his deer:
camouflaging colors,                              coughing, and cocking his rifle,
hushing his happy                                harpy girls: Layla and Lynn.

Hidden and hiding                                                  haunting the hills,
hand-in-hand                                                         hurdling the hares,
gliding, gracefully                                  through glistening, glimmering grass!

Peeping and peeking                                         from their private place,
concealed, contained                               covered and cloaked,
buried below                                         green bundles of grass:

Veiled, yet vivacious                                                 vexes their hunter!
A killer who kills                                                      for kicks, for sport!
A clatter, a clamor                                 coming from green clovers!

A noisy noise                                             noticed within a nifty nook.
Rapidly! Raising                                the rifle, it runs!
Slicing, slashing, slitting                        severing the green sea!

It stops. Suddenly,                                                scratching the sea gate!
A piercing scream                                                pierces the palmy day!
The hunter hungrily                            hunts for his prize.

Searching, seeking                                          he steps upon the scene.
Spying, spotting                                  he spots, he sees:
He perceives the                                 pierced, porous hole.

Penetrating and parting                                         her pretty peel,
laying lackluster, lifeless                                        lays--Layla.
Startled, stunned, staggering                    shock spills

slowly slithering into                                            slimy screams!
Lynn shrieks! Shouts                             aloud! Shrilling squeals!
The faulty father                                   falls fast           

upon his knee.                                          Kneeling, knowing, noticing
the hole: Layla lays                                     hopeless and hollow.
Her existence expired, extinct;           departed, deceased, decreased. 

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Maxim Poem: When in Rome (...)

when in Rome…

do as the                                                                        
Romans do? do
indeed, invest the time in
debauchery! decadence shall
reign with overflowing
excess, indeed---

incoherency? Yes! Yes
please! indeed! with
glittergold nipples on
top spraying seeds of
grape through the
gold god stuck in---

limbo. between good and
better! eat the
meat! tear into
the hare! suck
the duck down to
its last---

fuck the
girl, the
boy! Or both Or
twice! Or the
man with the slithering
tongue with scratches down---

the slender curve, sliding into
the worship room, worship the
party thrower, gayest gal, the
beatific bombshell, the
frisky frolicsome Ram of

Surely, this makes one
happy? Yes! Yes! Yes?
indeed! razor-sliced
emotions, forgotten eves, plump with
pestilence, rotten to the
inner core with bubbling blisters---

but do, do as the
Romans do. Enjoy! Enjoy
the vibrancy, the views, the
harpy happy melodies! the
harmonies, the arts, the
affluence, the architecture---

pose! model-like for
Michelangelo—be a
Pope popper! slip
swan-like in the
Sistine! feast with the

race with the robust
Stallions! be
intrigued! relish the
atmosphere! passion in
the air! party play with the
thespian, the musician, the persona---

of the Roman. So do, do
as the Romans do
who cares if
coherency never
knocks—open the
gate—jump into---

the Tiber! squirting, sporting, and
sprouting Roman
horns! splash in the
Sea! the Sea swarming with
silly sinners who
gobble the guts! prance—

periodically past
the Colosseum, the
Vatican! guzzle each
gulp of the goblet’s
last drop until
you--YES YOU--do as the Romans do!