Oysters on the Half Shell
What floats the boat
A half shell appetite like an evening ocean
Covered in cocktail sauce
Along Murrells Inlet forking its way
Through a belly of oysters
A shiny pearl of satisfied light
That quickly darkens in a hungry sea
A firecracker that pops silently
Where oysters come by the bags
Restaurants opening, competition
Rough like shells.
At Myrtle Beach
Lying on the couch on a rainy night
The windows flash and the lights blink
The thunder rolls and the wind blows
Till the roof is quiet and the rain trickles so
Drying drop by drop into a sunny dream
Beautiful as sunny sea oats and palm trees
And Spanish moss hanging in the oaks
Along the coast where the gulls float and
Walk, singing high-pitched notes, dive for fish
As the pelicans do while vacationers are kind
To get their toes wet in the white sand and
Walk their furry friends along the Grand
Strand as the Atlantic is warm, green and blue
The children shout and scream, build castles
And surf and whatever else can be dreamt
To do as the sun sets a beautiful hue, orange
And yellow and a thousand other romantic
Colours too along the white caps, as couples
Walk and at night by the moon that flirts
With the ocean, the tides that come and
Go in the eternal dance of marriage along
The coast of Myrtle Beach as the shells
Chatter and lights glitter, distant blue.
The Jewelry Store
Mother and I had so much fun, I knew my
Wife would need something to fill that
Black void whether she said it or
Not, all those restaurants my mother
And I ate at, so I went into the jewelry store
Where relations can be made to last
Or supposed too, did not know where
The hell I was in there, pulled out
My cell and let my wife talk to
The jeweler, go to town, as she
Knew what she wanted, I did not want
To travel down one of those dark
Roads in another town, the lady
Picked out sterling silver rings, size
Seven, with created opals, they
Would be that kiss on the lips
That magic that did its thing as this
Was my wife’s birthstone, what she
Was looking for, I was no longer
Cloudy, my weather seemed to be
Blue sky as I stepped out the door,
That green paper bag and little
Box held my heart, as I held it
Tightly like my hand would around her
Waist, I could have sworn I saw a rainbow
In my wife’s eyes, or azaleas like
A beautiful belle of South
As that jeweler was sweet as perfume
Knew how to talk the women talk
No matter how many miles and miles apart
I said have a good day, not as a
Repetition but like the genuine kind
Thank You! Thank You! Out the door.
[su_panel background=”#f2f2f2″ color=”#000000″ border=”0px none #ffffff” shadow=”0px 0px 0px #ffffff”]Danny P. Barbare grew up and resides in Greenville, SC. He has been published locally, nationally and abroad. He says he likes to visit Myrtle Beach and especially Charleston, SC.
photo courtesy Jason Barnette Photography (CC-BY-SA)
