The Turbulent Sea

The freshly hatched day looks and sees
The turbulence of the sea as vile edifice
Woefully buttressed for towered waves
Plying their ever life-threatening trades
In a confusingly crowded state of scales
Ever faithful to the flaws of disharmony
Aiming routine bizarre turns at the skies
Celebrating explosives dismemberments
Foot marking the horrors marred history
Massive courtyards for battered cargoes
Sorrowful streets and bleeding buildings
The morning sun climbing high in the sky
Desalinates the new fruit garden market
With the sanitary rays of her foundations
IS PEN THE PEN IN THE PEN?
Under the dark threads
Of the rain veto threats
Sun mistress bows dully
To the bow in dark skies
Thick storms, main bowl
Made bolder by thunder
Day master bends bodily
Enriching floating depths
Day dream, paid streams
For mass tubers of floods
Like the click-docks’ clock
Timely worthy wreckages
Is pen the pen in the pen?
To beautify their bleating
For the darkest of threats
Brightens the ink in a pen
IN THE TINY TOWN
In the tiny town
With the tiny trees
There is a tiny tailor
With some tiny old threads
In the tiny skies
With the tiny clouds
There is a tiny sunlight
With the tiny rays for my trays
There is a tiny bulb
In the tiny lamp holder
There is a tiny feeding bottle
Filled with tiny drops of fresh milk
In the tiny town
There is a tiny gown
From the tiny housewife
Bottled in a tiny baby body frame