He stands upon the salty,slippery deck,
Yelling yaargh matey ,
with a halfhearted pirate drawl.
He's not to impressed with himself,
not an eyepatch or wooden leg,
not even a hooked claw.
The parrot on his shoulder,
is a wannabee,
a sparrow that fell from the Crowsnest,
from high up above.
It has no quips ,or spikes,
or pirate quotes,
just nesting on his shoulder
with birdly kind of love.
Aye captain the crew responds,
snapping to their chores.
Tend the wheel ,lash the mainsail,
take the soundings
less we hit a reef.
The sea going life is not for every man,
walking the plank,storms and rickets.
Crabs in your knickers ,
really give you grief.
Aah but when the wind fills the sails to bursting,
yards of canvas strain to be free.
And the ropes play ,sea going music
of a tension melody.
A song that captures
every young buccaneers heart ,
and soul and fancy.
For the music of the wanderers life,
an endless expanse of blue,
bravehearts and fearless men find,
quite a bit too chancy.
Black Beard,Yellow Beard,
the famous Captain Blood,
were all fearless pirates of their day.
He truly knows that he can be,
a great one too.
If he could ever find that bleeping map,
and escape this landlocked bay.
Copyright © Jim Skinner | Year Posted 2007
I come to you with humble thanks for all that you’ve delivered,
For Englishmen to walk the planks and for timbers left unshivered.
I thank you for a glassy sea and the steady blowing breeze,
For giving all these things to me without making me say please.
And I thank you for the horizon where sea and sky do meet,
For every new sun that I watch risin’ is a day of fate I’ll cheat.
It is my hope dear loving Lord that I can bring you pleasure,
By throwing someone overboard and stealing all their treasure.
And when I navigate at night you send the northern star,
I feel then that I’m alright and it’s to you that I’ll say ARRR.
There’s a lesson that some people teach about the carrying that you do,
But I knew that the footprints on the beach must have belonged to you.
‘Cause I got a peg and there’s no doubt it would’ve got stuck into the sand.
I couldn’t have pulled myself back out because I got this hook for one hand.
I’d like to see you but by some quirk my good eye got covered by my patch,
I know that I’m just salvage work and it’s you who’ll batten down my hatch.
So Yo Ho Ho and a bottle of rum and raise the Jolly Roger to the sky,
And praise Him from whom blessings come the one who reigns on high.
For I am grateful for the gifts that you have granted me,
A pirate ship that is so swift and the blue green open sea.
Copyright © Tony Lane | Year Posted 2011
“The finest poetry
is the most feigning.”
Smelling scent soothe my soul
Sits in sleek oven
Smile so nicely
Saliva pours for
© Joseph, November 2, 2008
© All Rights Reserved
Semi finalist contestant
292 out of 887 submissions
June 1, 2009 International Contest
Joseph S. Spence, Sr., is the author of "The Awakened One Poetics" (2009), which is
published in seven different languages. He invented the Epulaeryu poetry form, which
focuses on succulent cuisines and drinks. He is published in various forums, including the
World Haiku Association; Poetinis Druskininku, Milwaukee Area College, Phoenix Magazine;
Möbius Poetry, and Taj Mahal Review to name a few. Joseph is a Goodwill Ambassador for
the state of Arkansas, USA, a college faculty, and a military veteran.
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2008
Ole Les set out by kayak from the shore
Big blue marlin rose from the ocean floor
Nipped his bait, gave Les a tow
Water-logged craft sank below
Friends shook their heads and said, "No Les, no more"
Written for John Freeman's "Fishing" limerick contest
Okay, the man's name wasn't Les ,but this video shows two kayaks being towed 11
miles by marlins. I took a little poetic license with the ending too. Both men
survived. If you fish you will be amazed by this video:
Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2011
Don't rush to wash off the sea salt
drying on your skin;
the hopes it carries from other oceans,
those remain yet to be seen.
Copyright © A.O. Taner | Year Posted 2016
Water wives live sheltered lives
Amongst the coves where pirates rove
Daily catch is makers match
Where red hot stoves hide fresh baked loaves
Water men are thick and thin
So often strove where shipmates hove
Water child is often wild
The treasure trove where pirates roved
Copyright © Rick Richardson | Year Posted 2014
Give a man a sea-kitten,
And you feed him for a day.
Teach a man how to sea-kitten,
And PETA will make him pay.
I guess there isn’t much to say,
We’re gonna eat them either way,
Because the message here being conveyed
Does not have to do with fish per se.
Instead we feel the need to build
A foundation where we can rest our guilt.
Or where we can sway, or push, or tilt
The basis of sanity. And watch it wilt.
Humans are actually land-dodos.
A tree is also a green-giraffe.
But no name we will ever sow
Will ever cease to make me laugh.
I mean, how bored do you have to be
In a world with war and disease uprising
To stop what you’re doing and decide: “Here see,
Fish are in trouble. Start compromising.”?
Man is the measure of these extents.
The apex of idiocy slips his mind,
And thus he chooses to invent
Another means to thwart mankind.
We’re defending the rights of things we need.
Things we need for survival, like skin.
And in our greed we fail to read
The paradox lying herein and within.
Among all the things that humans bleed for,
Nothing more imbecilic has ever been,
Than renaming the fish of which we feed
Into something like sea-kitten.
“And then Jesus blessed the sea-kittens,
He broke the bread and divided it amongst 5000 people.”
Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009
You live on an island not at all on an island
But smack, in the middle of life,
The center of our small word loving society
If it weren't for you, I had drowned
In that Soup-sea of incomprehensible
rules for autists.
It isn't strange for hubbies to say: "I love you".
So there you go ;)
Ask your first hubby if we can share
to eternity and back, because that
would be so lovely.
Jan, life kicks us so hard sometimes
but we kick back with a vengeance!
One day we'll swim that canal
and meet halfway on our rubber duckies
Smiling broadly and drinking
February 18, 2017
Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017
The snow white blanket glistening
so brightly all around
has grown so very tired
as the winter's winding down.
Oh how we long for Springtimes' sun
to smile about the place
to melt the weary winter snow
and wash its' dirty face.
But when the old and forlorn snow
has melted we shall find
we'll curse all of the Springtime mud
that it will leave behind.
This was inspired by Moggie, the woman I was aid
and companion to, when she was commenting on
the dirty snow and said someone should write a
poem about it. I wrote this for her and I wanted to
share this with you. RG
Copyright © Robin L. Gass | Year Posted 2009
Flesh on show and sun tan lotion
bodies laid on towels or sun lounges
By the ocean
Salty air wind blown hair
Music streaming from the near by fair
Baby screaming nappies full
Cool guys looking for babes on the pull
Sun shades and floppy hats
Grown men playing cricket with ball and bats
Sand castles and buckets and spades
Candy floss and lemonade
Father With binoculars pretending to look out to sea
Or read a newspaper but really looking at the bathing beauties
Bikinis and manknies G strings tight where the sun don't shine
Hot dogs and hamburgers the popping of corks from bottles of wine
Hairy legs and wrinkled skin
child almost drowning couldn't swim
Muscle bound Life guards with muscles to impress
Granma lost her false teeth
Dropped between her breasts
Ice creams and summer dreams
Young child peeing in the sea
Among the swimmers splashing about with glee
People playing beach ball and football
Mother calls come on all it's time for tea
Large Busty woman running like jelly on a plate
And nearly starting an earthquake
Sand between your toes
Sun burn on your nose
Sweaty arm pits sweaty bums
Toffee apples and bleeding gums
Sea gulls flying screeching high above
Clear blue sky pure white dove
Watching the frothy waves stretch upon the shore
Watching the horizon and tiny boats 10 miles away or more
Dogs running here and there
Sweets being passed around to share
Crabs and shrimps and other critters in a rocky pool
Children with fishing nets and jars to take them back to school
Para gliders pulled by speed boats high in the sky
Oh why do people want to risk life
As they could die
Postcards to write people on there bikes
The smell of fish and chips
Children with jam around their lips
Couples walking hand in hand barefoot on warm sand
Treasured memories and photo's to cherish
Suitcases packed feeling unwound and relaxed
Can't wait until next year when they come back.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. July.
Copyright © Peter Dome | Year Posted 2014
The busy Moon forgot about the Tide.
She left it out all day upon the sand.
And when it found itself alone topside,
there mischief was immediately at hand.
It washed the muddy Rocks until they shone,
then dragged in trash to mess them up again,
it chilled the chubby babies to the bone
and tugged their pudgy feet to pull them in.
It rearranged the peaceful ocean floor
and wrapped the kelp into a tangled wreath,
then turned up all the driftwood on the shore
and tickled every creature underneath.
It tricked the Fishermen it came across
by pulling at the lines they'd cast about,
took cages that it saw the Trappers toss
and let the little Crabs and Lobsters out.
It fooled with every Fish that floated by,
it sprayed the Seagulls when they flew too near,
it pooled in spots it KNEW the Sun liked dry
and played with all the boats along the pier.
It sueezed the baby Squid until they laughed
then painted funny pictures with their ink
and after it had taught them all this craft,
it swirled away like water down a sink.
It called to Clouds that hung around the sky
and asked to meet them halfway in between
then teased them until they began to cry
but just to make it rain, not to be mean...
The Tide adored its mischief and it would
have gleefully continued on its spree
but for the Moon, who for the greater good,
came up at last and let it out to sea!
Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015
Too much fun to wear!
Copyright © Marie Harrison | Year Posted 2010
When the call of the Lord came to Jonah,
“set out for the great land of Nineveh!”
he was angry inside,
and decided to hide,
on a Tarshish bound ship leaving Joppa.
Then the Lord sent a great wind on the sea,
ne’er a more violent storm could there be,
there on destiny’s brink,
the ship threatened to sink,
while, old Jonah, was below deck asleep.
Surely, each sailor’s heart fainted with fear,
as the ship they were unable to steer.
“Wake up, Jonah!” they cried,
“get thee quickly topside,
and fervently beg your God to draw near!”
Now, Jonah knew that this storm was for him,
as in his heart he remembered his sin,
he thought he was sunk,
when they gave him the dunk,
and had to choose whether to sink or to swim.
As soon as Jonah met up with the ocean,
Both the winds and the waves ceased commotion,
then along came a whale,
and old Jonah grew pale,
as it swallowed him up in one motion!
Three long days in that big fish he stayed,
vowing never again would he stray,
relieved not to be dead,
and with kelp on his head,
onto dry land, our dear Jonah was sprayed!
Please, allow me, now this moral to mention,
that when the Lord God gives thee direction,
you must not delay,
set out right away,
His good judgment you must never question.
Should by chance, you hear God’s voice compelling,
“ head thee out to Bangladesh or New Delhi,”
best get on the right boat,
and pray that it floats,
lest you end up kelp covered and smelly!
Copyright © Shelly Berkeley | Year Posted 2007
The fishing of Scotland's coast
To be honest I have to boast
Please come take a look
And dangle your hook
And join me in traditional toast
My favourite place is called Dunnet Head
With many species it has to be said
One just dangles their line
Hey presto! see what you find
It's a bite, not the weight of your lead
But sadly there has been some stinkers
When the fish must have been thinkers
For many times we did try
In us they espied
Wasting our time dropping our sinkers
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Oh, vermicelli, rigatoni!
Lost on a sea of minestrone.
The sea beneath my feet,
And nothing else to eat,
I live on cheese and macaroni.
Copyright © William Robinson | Year Posted 2005
I watched the sailfish spring from the sea
Had no wings, an enigma to me
Why in flight did it embark?
Pursuit by a great white shark
Its sail would soon be an amputee
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011
The sirens and mermaids
called up from the deep,
untangled mesh nets
blithely held out by sleep.
There the first to emerge
were the sighs and the nods,
they sank then resurfaced
in clear Morphean pods.
I found myself wandering
on a wide stretch of beach.
My mind squeezed like a lemon,
my thoughts fuzzed like a peach.
When the sheet of fog lifted,
I walked through the haze,
what’d been transfixed by the night
now transformed into day.
Bands of green kelp
had encircled my feet.
Sand dollars tossed out
from the wallets of seas.
The tang in the air
by the water and brine,
awoke to my senses
other days hazed by time.
Sunk then in a sinkhole;
my heart now clanged a bell!
I was no longer an oyster
in a barnacled shell.
I kicked off the seaweed,
splashed through the shoreline,
feeling refreshingly freed
from that soul ravaged time.
I knew I’d still wonder
about Calamity Clam.
Had he hid from the onslaught,
become a sea star’s sea ham?
Ouf…no longer my problem,
I was no agent by rights.
Then I stepped on an object
and, out went the lights!
I hopped in frustration
with great hurt I did bow.
I bellowed out pain
like an angry sea cow.
With one mighty scoop
he was constained in my hand.
How to dispose of the despicable?
I felt seared by a brand.
Covertly I gazed
at this nemesis of fear.
Then I gave a smart tug
to his mossy green beard.
The thoughts that I harbored
were not of my decree.
I hurled him out, with three skips,
he sank back into the sea.
Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012
Scuba diving, oh! what a dream
In the Gulf, amidst the Sardines
With a Florida blond
Whom I've grown to be fond
It's dark, is it all that it seems
Our dive is going oh! so super
Boo! said the nosey big Grouper
Och! do you have to be mean
To these little Sardines
Your just a big party pooper
Told of he goes in a mood
Just like a big bully should
Hey! next time take better care
To these Sardines you did scare
It's impolite, and you've been oh! so rude
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
Swept by waves of nostalgia
Afloat on longing tides
I assessed this oyster compound
where my heart could not abide.
Aphrodisiac pulls of Neptune
were as lava cooled to stone
What use were pearls of luster
when one had no collarbone?
Heralded by sea trumpets
kelp banners flying high
Sentinels of sea urchins
with pink coral by their sides
Calamity, with determined madness
shoved sponges from his path
Provoked by clam injustice
Spurred by mollusk wrath.
I searched for an escape exit
from that cruel, moronic clam
This myriad ideology,
naught but an oyster sham.
When a seahorse bobbing aimlessly
moved closer to my side
I unhinged my oyster carapace
and grasped its roughened hide.
I was jolted and I was jostled
as I settled on its back
Calamity watched in amazement
standing frozen in his track
When an agitated octopus
released an ink black kite,
a galaxy of starfish
sank into the brackish night.
I focused my attention
on my lost and nervous steed
We were climbing ever upward
at a most alarming speed
Breaking through the surface
I swallowed back a scream
Afraid of finding Calamity
I found it all had been...a dream.
Copyright © Michelle Mac Donald | Year Posted 2012
They snickered and laughed
As you set sail on your raft
It seems you are daft
Copyright © Joe Inca | Year Posted 2005
F.ree T.he W.aves
f.REE t.HE w.AVES
F.ree T.he W.aves!!!
Is what they say,,
Got my self some true tales
About the world today.
Oil job site fails.
Poor Sea World has to pay.
I found many black sea shells
Oil got in their way.
I wanna claw my nails.
On B.P.for turning our sand to clay
I can sit and give details
How they ruin our ocean bay
Instead I'm sending mean E-MAIL's
Expressing anger for their oily display.
How their stupidities drop our sales.
I hope they choke while eating a sea buffet
I hope someone feeds them sting-ray tails
As they drink coffee at there sea side cafe.
Everything sooner or later prevails
And ocean life will once again find a way.
God send them rain hit them with heavy hail
It's to late for B.P.to pray..
2 months of a black grave trail
((LOL)), B.P.you angered the US.A.
Getting off easy with no jail
That does not make things okay.
I will not wish you all to go to hell
After making the ocean a bigger body of dead prey
Your clean up time is slower than a sea snail
Many uncalled dead seagulls are found in your oily decay
Funny how the president takes the heat of your bail.
You screwed our blue ocean water to a stream of black and grey.
An oil site ran by a higher percent of males
Oh well what can you expect and say.
With the world in the way of oil spills.
Is like B.P.oil's is saying F.T.W.anyway.
While we the protesters say, F.ree T.he W.hales!!!
F.T.W.=free the whales!!!!!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
Sea Hag at last got to Popeye
Spiked his spinach with Viagra (Oh my!)
Olive Oyl was overtly outraged and insulted
When a SCANDELOUS, sad affair soon after resulted...
Written on: 6/1/2015
Submitted for: Kim’s Clerihew contest
Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2015
I wanted to go fishing in the ocean
Forgot the result of constant motion
You wouldn't believe
How much I heaved
Would give gold for a nausea potion
For the "Fishing" contest.
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2011
< well isn't that swell
lost another cool surfboard ...
holy sharks galore
the sun bids day well ado ...
happy trails to you
top of old smokey
cumulus congestive skies ...
coughing up a storm
using buoyant enforcement ...
to capture the sun
yacht and small vessel
endlessly floats rippled lake ...
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2011
Penn's Aunts, patch-eyed women
Cutlass carried, pistol too
You mess with Sean,
They mess with you
Give his movie a bad review,
You'll walk the plank,
That's what they'll do.
Copyright © tom bell | Year Posted 2008
I went fishing last week with a banker
On an impressive one hundred foot yacht
But when I joked and called it a tanker
I fathomed my real big fat mouth was caught
I threw out my line, hooked one, and yanked her
But it snapped my feeble rod like a twig
Although what elevated my rancor
Was that the fish got my favorite jig
Therefore, I tried once again to shank her
With that large hook used to lift bales of hay
But in this case that didn’t help bank her
Coz once again the darn thing got away
So I stuck some bait onto the anchor
And then dropped it into the deep blue sea
But that beast pulled the yacht down and sank her
And that’s the last time that he fished with me.
David Fisher October 1, 2015 Trashed #3, sponsor, Broken Wings
Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2015
A RACE TO DE-BONE FISH:
A CONVENT FOR SHELL FISH:
A MEMBER OF THE UNDER SEA MAFIA:
A PROMISCUOUS SHRIMP:
A MUSICAL RED SNAPPER:
A COMPASSIONATE FISH:
A LAW ENFORCEMENT FISH:
For Yasmin's Footle Fun Contest
Copyright © Kim Merryman | Year Posted 2013
Basking on the sun-lit ice.
Walrus mumble filled with hype.
Today I haven't a thing to do
But fish, butt-wipe, butt you.
Copyright © Tom Arnone | Year Posted 2016
the shipwrecked sailor
from the North
lands on land
between the seas
nothing but trees
the trees shade him from the sun
in the sky
the sky provides a medium
in which the birds
from the trees
and the birds
nested in the trees
provide the sailor
birds to fry
the shipwrecked sailor
after his bird meal
still can’t fly
Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014
Such pain, such pain this poor heart's born,
with so little pleasures in return,
much gifts it has bestowed, unearned
now, here it lies; morose, forlorn
Alas, alas, what curse has brought this
wrath upon such an innocent soul,
its spirit broken by this tragic role
like Atlas or more so, Sisyphus
Fall down again from feet to knees
to plumb the dark and dreary depths,
the length and seemingly infinite breadth
of this warm, salty sea of self-pity
These murky waters, born from tears
these waves and tides that chop and churn,
these silent sobs leave one to yearn
for one small thing; a tender ear
Copyright © David Brown | Year Posted 2015