Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

On Writing And Words Sea Poems | On Writing And Words Poems About Sea

These On Writing And Words Sea poems are examples of On Writing And Words poems about Sea. These are the best examples of On Writing And Words Sea poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Haiku | |

STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....


Details | Narrative | |

BEFORE SPRING CAME

Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills 
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms 
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat! 
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?    



Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...



After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
 


Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!  


My theme is: Happiness In Childhood


Details | Free verse | |

In the Shallows

           I bent over to touch my toes
               and the ground tore open like a backbone.

I tried to feed myself the sky;
to splice my tearducts into the universe 
so that, when the pavement cried, it would mean something to me.
My fingernails punctured that slimy membrane
congealed with stars, 
and I brought a slice of it to my lips,
hot and slippery like a jellyfish.
Peach juice, chalky-sweet, flowed,
fleshy particles snagged in my teeth,
and the colors erupted within my mouth.

Synthesia took over my lungs.
The hollows between my knuckles flooded with synovia
and all the ectoplasm threatened to separate from my cells
with a sound like thunder.
Diphthong tasted rusty like leukoplakia as it tiptoed across my tongue.
Tomorrow rose like the skeletons of trees, 
groping for a feeling similar to catharsis
[catharsis tender as the broken wings of doves,
crunching underfoot like shattered glass.]

The clouds opened their thunderous maws
- teeth snicker-snacking, lamplight-eyes flaming the color of E#'s -
and consumed me.
I felt my skin turn to something other than skin:
thick and rough with scales,
my fingerprints melting into something waxen, smooth and opaque,
like pomegranate kisses on coffee mugs.
A feeling ignited deep in my structure;
cedillas blossoming like lilies from my lips,
fragmented sentences stretching taut as guitar strings
between my thumb and forefingers.  
A flutter gentle and demonic as Calcifer erupted from my system
- splattering hot and frothing into my hand -
and fluid rushed in.

   I dared to taste oblivion,
       and the sky swallowed me. 

My lungs failed to be lungs.
They flooded with caustic matter,
and I coughed up reflections sharp as fiberglass;
fighting with organs phthisical and sore.
I struggled to find a way to describe it:
the feeling of consuming something greater than yourself,
of opening your eyes and tasting the sound of rain.
It was like swimming, 
but inside out.

            I bent over to touch my toes,
              and my spine tore open;
            the loose laces unraveling, veterbrae poking out
          like the tines of forks.
            I tried to contort myself into the beginning,
              but I only found where I end.


Details | Limerick | |

DRUNK PIRATES DON'T DO POETRY

Who be th' stenchin' verminous Horsman 
what hollers t' th' seafarin' oarsmen 
when th' mind's a-fog
where we fest th' grog 
why be d'mandin' pennin's of  bay men 

***All errors are intentional and used merely to facilitate pirate speak.  




Details | I do not know? | |

My Wishes are Simple





My Wishes are Simple


My wishes are simple,
my desires few,

to gaze upon an ocean,
and marvel at a solitary drop of dew.



My wishes are simple,
my dreams not too grand,

to feel the waves teasing my tired feet,
with no footprints left in the cool, wet sand.



My wishes are simple,
my thoughts serenely gentle, calm,

my heart resting beneath a swaying palm,

healing my being, caressed by nature's soothing balm.





Details | Rhyme | |

The Beach At Eby Rd - - - My Quiet Place

 
The Ocean breeze soothes me. The sound of waves relaxes me. Soft sand between my toes, collecting unique driftwood to make crafts, beachcombing is my "quiet place". You can't live on an island and not love the water. I can sit and watch boats sailing by or watch eagles soaring in the sky. The beach is where I go to sooth my soul and find my inspiration. ~~~~ The Beach at Eby Rd.~~~~ (my quiet place) At the end of the road, I park, leaving my shoes behind. I walk along the sandy beach. All troubles leave my mind. I breathe in the sweet ocean air, raise my face to the sun. Inspiration flows through my veins. Another poem's begun.
for Sara Kendrick's contest "My Quiet Place"


Details | Rhyme | |

15 April 1912 - To Rhyme 'Month'


Sinkable 
Titanic unth- 
inkable?  
Not this month.  


    *it is difficult to find words to rhyme with 'month.' 


Details | Lyric | |

Summer Morn

The future lies unwritten on
the blankest, blankest page.
I’m born today and, safe to say,
on track to boundless age.

At anchor in a harbor on
the leeward side of time,
engaged in making love to verse,
in making beauty rhyme--

the heart has placed before the eyes
what Gods of hope have borne,
a well of sweet serenity--
and love like summer morn.


Details | Rhyme | |

Poetry About Poetry

Shades of color bounce within
Singing their hues dancing in place
Vivid lines colored outside
Rules broken with empty space
A midnights dream heard and seen
Gleaming from the twinkle of a eye
Wings touched flown and plucked
Gliding like a bird up in the sky
Wishes from pennies thrown into tears
The reservoir over flowing with pigments of pain
Drowning from the shadows 
The flood paints the day
Words speak volumes of silence hidden
Their sounds blind to what they see
Mirrors of nouns and verbs 
Their meaning and secrets lost at sea
Emotions ruled by laws of language
Spelled in boxes of glass
Melted from sands inside
That voices strangle to grasp


Details | I do not know? | |

Seep

A thousand times I've made myself
Into an interprative lie
A thousand times, a million words
That never will quite die
But in the truth, so continent
Is nothing that cannot be bent
Within these words, this plenitude
Is nothing of an origin
Within these lies, one bit of truth
Is only found within a facet of interpretation

And so we feel we know each other
Through the words we read, twice writ
But in all words, so many meanings
Kill all hope of understanding it

One word, one touch of mastery
Finds greatness only in what's seen
By those who are quite predisposed
To look for life in words transposed
Upon a page, so blank, so bare
That all the soul must still be there
Within that spot of black, inside the space
Surrounded by its like. There's left no trace
Of individuality within the frothing, dying sea of words once writ, twice faded, lost inside a sea of meaning, tost upon the shore of all that's seen by those who know what their own might-have-beens could mean to one who's never tried to understand, nor dared to try the hand of fate against a raging sea that took the form of fractured metaphor.

The soul seeps through.


Details | Narrative | |

MY TREASURE BENEATH THE TIDES

The murky rolling waves subject
to the whims of the February's wind, 
far above the secluded lighthouse;
the roaming aircrafts vanish through thick clouds,
leaving behind a trail of hazardous vapors...
but the geese and seagulls can't continue their existence!  

And still the sea offers them its promise,
a distant shore untouched by man...
by his greedy ways and incompassion,
causing the extinction of many species;
my reflection is based on fact :
we can't survive without them!

The stylish wild birds engage,
as if striken by a sudden rage,
in their frantic, daily dance over the marina,
as I listen the melancholic lyrics of  " Nessun Dorma "...  
the exquisite area of Puccini,
which comes alive through the extraordinary voice of Bocelli!
   
 At four the fog thickens and shrouds the shoreline,
the brass lampposts light up with reluctance...
to shy away the presence of any ghost; 
I, in transitive joy, hide my treasure beneath the tides,
hoping someone will find it  and remember my work... 
long after my thoughts will be no longer alive! 


Details | Rhyme | |

The Sun's Rays

The sun’s devouring rays
Reveals an astounding sensation against the marvelous universe
It caresses the earth with warm hugs and gives life to the motionless gaze
Its auras are above nature’s designating exteriors
Its swaying beauty is beyond Earth’s inhabitants, deserving my praise

It treasures the sky with joyousness and forms swarms of jeering birds
The sighs of the wind attracts clamoring herds

The sun’s appalling flames
Unshackles a zealous tune that reveals the Earth’s accord
It embraces the atmosphere with remarkable claims
Unraveling my curiosity; my ears are pleading to hear more, so I go forward!

It prizes the ocean with eagerness and forms swarms of screeching seagulls 
The strength of the waves draws in scorching souls 

The sun's unattainable rays 
Motivate life to trail on till its duty is done
Its auras seep through the whirling sky and strays
Embracing ambitious love like a father and son  


Details | Rhyme | |

LIFE IS AN ADVENTURE

Life can be an awesome adventure for the one who dares;
shouldn't it also be for those in love,
who leave their dreamy hearts in a blossoming grove,
and will it, in definite time, turn into dreams?
Seek yours in forbidden realms,
let it come in form of fantasy...
await the blissful joy of a discover at sea,
or that one that mounts hide on their peaks!


Sail away as Columbus and Cabot did by reciting Hail Mary,
have faith by proving it to yourself, but ignore derisive laughs;
your ship will have you as captain and nobody else,
don't lose your way among crashing waves that make you afraid.
Remember your ambition when you left shore for glory...
don't let doubt discourage you from achieving what you planned!


My aspiration is to be an accomplished writer,
and starting off this adventure, I will use ample imagination;
madness some will say...weren't the explorers' minds driven by conviction?
Follow me and I'll prove them wrong: unearth my literary treasure!


Details | I do not know? | |

Whale

She swims the salty seas
Crashing into the surface through leaves
Taking Captain Ahab down with her as he heaves

Destroying her predators ships along the way
He will no longer be found in Norway
She’s moving on to a less crowded bay


Details | Quatrain | |

AN EXTRAORDINARY DREAMER

Since childhood my vivid and alluring aspirations
painted my rainbows with different colors,
not the ones I was after and truly adored...
who has ever heard of a teenager being bored?



Anytime I saw a train leave the station with its smooth rhythm,
I wanted to be that conductor who could never fall asleep,
and at every stop he would look carefully before closing the doors...
then, laid-back, watch the changing landscape and whistle his tunes!



If imagination had not been there to tackle my reflective tendencies
that were, indeed, rooted in all aspects of the present wilderness,
I wouldn't have cultivated this passion and turn it into a realistic dream...
which allowed inspiration to enter the subconsciousness of this thinker's realm!    



The fast-paced postman delivering mail to mailboxes seldom locked, thrilled me;
he looked so sharp and handsome greeting folks, and it would have been an honor
to chat with them, listening to their suggestions and helping them thoroughly...
I visualized myself as such, and even practiced it daily in front of large mirror!



If tons of ideas hadn't fed the urge to jot down details with ebullient imagery,
unless I wasn't aware of their poignant meaning and powerful message,
I wouldn't have let fantasy create an extraordinary dreamer out of someone so ordinary...
to adorn dullness with my cheerfulness and change winter to spring!
 


Details | Free verse | |

salt marsh~ (a syntu)

marsh
hear the rattle of the clapper rail
buffer of strong seas
grassy refuge of the great egret
wetlands


Details | I do not know? | |

Vessels

Though the crease begins to crumble
These old pages still run blue
Currents pulse beneath the surface
Pen-leaked ink that bled your truths
Pen-spun words that writhe like veins
Under skin and paper skies
Cold to touch, crept through your core
Settled clear in frozen eyes

So I’ll read you like a book
And I’ll write you pretty lies
Just to fill the empty space 
That’s revealed between the lines
Won’t you move a little closer?
Let it spill into your ear
The tide of breath that harboured
All the words you want to hear

Well I tried to kiss it better
Blood and bones to fuse the cleft
Bruised and broken, lips split open
From the effort, nothing’s left
So you say that I’m a sinner
Preach of hearts and ribs and fists
Well I may have made the plunge 
But you revelled in the twist

Now you’re tearing at your wounds
Sanctimonious with pain
Because it helps you ‘hear the music’
Yeah, it helps you play the game
If I pour a little salt
Will you smear it in your eyes?
Feel its grain twist round your lids
As you soliloquise

About the blame you tried to forge 
All the nights you wept and claimed
‘You can’t comprehend the world
Balanced firm between these blades’
No one told you it’s a lie 
And the story really goes
Constellations, superstitions
Are that Ancient’s only load

All the pretty rhymes and perfect crimes
You try to hide behind
Well they just serve to remind me
How you once spoke those old lines – 
‘Your tongue is as a rudder
Guiding vessels safe through storms
Moving mountains with inflections
Making ripples in reflections
Hollowed hull meets hallowed shores’


Details | Haiku | |

Broken Brut

sail ship of lofted line
down the keelway rolling fine
splashing birth to berth


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mother Of Waters

Mother of Waters
you're peace and tranquility;
how I long to be as free.

Oh Mother of Waters,
mighty! untroubled, and true!
change me to be just like you.

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

But who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say 
what commands your violence?

Sweet Mother of Waters
graceful, mystic, serene...
who can know what you have seen?

You have given us life
then have taken it away...
seen battles lost and won
through the nights until the day.

but who can say
what controls your silence?
And who can say
what commands your violence?

Dear Mother of Waters,
great mirror of the dusk and the dawning...
calming, soothing, everlasting...
how I long to be as free!

Change me to be just as thee.


Details | Free verse | |

This Poem


This poem is not 
a rhyme, yet words 

flow gracefully 
within. Amber light 

guides my soul to 
a sunken treasure!


Details | I do not know? | |

Color me blue

Color me blue,
because of the sky.
color me blue,
so i can fly high.
color me blue,
because of the sea.
color me blue,
so i can be free.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Poet, Who Asked the Birds How To Fly (Mixed Rhyme)

O, behold the man, by the old sea 
He closes his brown eyes, feeling free
Dancing to the wind, taunting the bee 
He, who loves nature, although, carefree
Nevertheless, wants you all to see 

Him, who hates watching gray clouds hide the bright sky 
Where falcons, soaring high, relentlessly
Against the gusting wind, they’ve freedom to fly
Reveling in fleeting days, across the

Virulent sea, where he spends time 
Lulling, unmindful of them 
The naked ladies of Shem 
On shoreline rocks, weaving blue rhyme 

For he does not like to see those eyes, tinted 
With hues of withered red roses on the ground
‘Cos there is no more beauty, in them, when dead
Or, in the eyes, when full of sadness, the sound 

Of a unkempt sea, where its breath 
Streaking his soul, without regret 
Filled with un-prophetic news 
That he, too, wished to fly, to set 
Wings to where he won’t have to fret 
‘Bout not wanting to peruse…

The whippersnapper, who n’er wanted to cry
He, the poet, who asked the birds how to fly
He, the man, by the old sea, hurt by heart’s lie 

That, in forms, caused him to unveil	
Whence readers can feel, the detail

Whether, penned in a single verse
Or, in a freestyle, like free-verse

Whether, it’s written in sonnet 
Or, perhaps, in a rhymed couplet 

Between lines, untangle his thought 
 
And you’ll see me, the life, I fought 


Details | Couplet | |

Manatee or Mermaid

Goodbye .....
she whispered from afar
The wind took words away
and scattered them
 along the beach
where lovers used to play

 I chased the syllables and nouns
I gathered up the thoughts
but currents in the water found
the letters I had caught

I still can't understand or hear
the bubbles  that she blew,
landing lightly  on the waves
a surface love so new.

I sank beneath the  waters 
a deeper love to find,
the heavy words like loyalty
and truth were on my line,

but I found only adverbs
Of  when and why and how
I left my love note at the shore ,
who needs an old sea cow?








Details | Free verse | |

Language Arts

A word and a breath but it’s the thought that counts.
Up or down in or out love and trust is what it’s all about.
To you I say can you hear me perked up on the mounts.
You are in or you are out.
A touch and a whisper but it is the kiss of truth.
Knelt or bent I am down on my knees.
And I beg you please.
To me I say can I hear me or am I aloof?
Language arts is a dance in the breeze,
With a summer squeeze,
A winter’s pinch,
The spring’s stench,
Even the autumn’s leaves!
Bathing in the words and dancing like a twit.
Singing in rhythm and painstakingly making a switch.
Language arts is a breeze on the summer Seas.
Lifting you up or pulling you down and spinning you all around,
It will knock you to your knees,
Lifeless and unbound!

® Registered: Ann Rich   2005


Details | I do not know? | |

BUFFER

BUFFER
All of us have feelings all of us have love but all of us build a buffer in-between 
the real world and the occurrences’ the bad news and the disturbances and the 
wars. It is not the ostrich neck bowed down with the head inside the egg hole it is 
not the hair the dog tosses up on back of all the issues. It could be the reason 
we can live when it seems all hope is lost it is the reason a man keeps hoping 
that his lost love will come home.
We simply make a buffer a buffer zone if you will of many different feelings and 
many different ills. The news is very bad today but supper was so nice the 
cheese and bagels and the onions made me feel like eye ate twice but several 
people died in ASIA and there eye have some friends and when eye read it eye 
let it hit my buffer so eye can live. When the story becomes the MONOLITH of 
headlines and even videos then the BUFFER will absorb the thing and keep me 
from the suffer of a world in turmoil and my supper sets inside my stomach 
becoming something else a different form of matter to be discarded and avoided 
by the others of my kind. The buffer is my ZONE the buffer helps me on the long 
walk home it does not meant that eye do not care or even love it is just the 
BUFFER sets in place to keep mye heart.
The prayers and tears pass through the buffer zone and yet eye rise for one more 
day a little jaded a little green around my eyes and search for one more answer 
at life in the buffer zone.


Details | Lyric | |

As I think Of It

My poem, as I think of it,
I am taken to solitude of happiness,
Where the bitter memory of yesteryears 
Disappears, without traces.

I am delivered in spirits
From hell of anxieties to an exotic paradise
Of hope, where it is me and my poem
Alone for a moment.

There’s rhyming sonnet, and beautiful verses
Even a haiku, too, you’ll see as you gently peek 
Thru my soul, fed by the reflection ripples of the sea
With placid water so warm and really blue. I sigh.

The magical seasons of pink summer night,
Of white winter noon,
Of golden fall day,
Of bright-green of early morn. I breathe.

Sweet caress from the rhyming sea  
As I look deeper into my heart,
A poem, sweet as me as I whisper to you
My life, not of yesterday, but of today.