The deep moves slowly…
the matters of the heart
move like great whales
slumbering in a slow drift
of cold currents amidst the black deep,
dreaming their shadowy whale dreams
first conceived by whale ancestors
when the world was still young.
The deep moves slowly…
the matters of the heart
like great whales
arising to sing their plaintive pleadings
in expansive echoes
through the blue deep
where intricate whale song is born:
the amazing falsetto of birds
bursting from huge resonant cavities;
the bass throb of a monstrous drum
embosomed somewhere in a whale’s belly.
Here, in the sea’s middle world,
whale games are conceived in secrecy.
The deep moves slowly…
the matters of the heart,
like cumbrous whales arise,
until at last, breaking surface,
they thrust festive
spumes of spray into sea air
and with briny breath
drink sky.
Here, on the immense surface
of the world of the sea
where man organizes his armadas,
strains his muscles to pull in fat, round tuna
and gather sleek herring into his nets,
these monstrous, ancient whale brothers
are met with children’s squeals of wonder—
or the pitiless, swift harpoon
which makes all mystery
a commodity.
I have often slaughtered with anxious intent
my prodigious dreams
which surface to breathe…
those potent old dreams
which have laid long in the dark,
murmuring their mysterious images
into the sleeping mind,
calling the soul back to its ancient work:
to venerate the stars, and the cragged floor of the seas
with words—
lightning fast, blue-backed, sea-words!
which, like Christ’s own keys,
unlock monstrous, slow feelings
which move the mind down
into its depths
like a gigantic, lumbering whale
which growing weary of all surface sport, sighs,
and rolls its immense bulk over
to arc its great head down,
plunging suddenly down,
releasing its colossal weight
to the immutable draw of the sea,
plummeting, drifting


into the



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I have been feeling the sea again and missing it. I grew up on the beaches of the Pacific and love the wildness and mystery of the Ocean. This is a poem I wrote some years ago about whales, those old, souls, those singing, silent ones.

A poet, author, photographer and workshop leader with over 3,000 poems and 8 books in print as well as 20 CDs of recorded poetic work.
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  • Lisa  Jewell
    Lisa Jewellover 3 years ago

    and you moved me…..

    deep, indeed x

  • Where did you move to? Thanks, Lisa.

    – Blake Steele

  • LindaR
    LindaRover 3 years ago

    I feel this one ~ deeply~ this ancient world below and inside…

    “I have often slaughtered with anxious intent
    my prodigious dreams
    which surface to breathe…
    those potent old dreams
    which have laid long in the dark,…”
    thankful you’ve resurrected this poem ~ a meal for my day…thoughtful verse to have me plum my own depths of old dreams and let them breathe.
    I too feel this connection to the sea, the wild open blue and been craving it too… thankful to be going to Plum Island tomorrow xxx

  • I want to go to Plum Island tomorrow too. I have no idea where it is, but what matter? Good journey, Linda.

    – Blake Steele

  • LisaBeth
    LisaBethover 3 years ago

    beauutiful…i just like feel the poetry’s moves. great!

  • Thank you, LisaBeth. Sweet love to you across the world.

    – Blake Steele

  • HamperRefuser
    HamperRefuserover 3 years ago

    Wow brilliant flowing poetry!

  • Thanks, Hamper.

    – Blake Steele

  • Rhenastarr
    Rhenastarrover 3 years ago

    Deeply moving!

  • Thanks, Rhena.

    – Blake Steele

  • UntamedDreamer
    UntamedDreamerover 3 years ago

  • What a gift! Thanks, Holly.

    – Blake Steele

  • svondwemyx
    svondwemyxover 3 years ago

    great poem

  • Thanks so much, JJ.

    – Blake Steele

  • Sassafras
    Sassafrasover 3 years ago

    Love the sea, too, Blake…Feeling a yearning to be near the ocean which I must obey within a matter of days.
    Yesssssssssssssssssss…and now you’ve made me want it right NOW. Great writing!!!
    Peace in your today,

  • adambogusz
    adamboguszover 3 years ago

    Hi Blake…my natural form of expression is painting and music. I tend to gravitate to these forms so I often miss poems like this. I just wanted to say that you had me with every word here. I thoroughly enjoyed the flow of this piece from deep down to surface and back down again…..beautiful visuals that triggered and moved feelings within me….well done and thank you :)

  • So glad to hear this, Adam. Poetry is kind of a music of thought and words which, to me, connects us to Creation itself, all of its mystery and beauty and transformative powers we call Love. Good to you in your life and creative work!

    – Blake Steele

  • SimplyRed
    SimplyRedover 3 years ago


  • Thanks so much, Red.

    – Blake Steele

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