Writing Ocean Poems

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Details | Pantoum |
I had found solace in my quill
Because therein could be expressed
That tragedy which gave me chills.
The pen and ink gave me some rest—

Because therein could be expressed
The cold emotion that I felt.
The pen and ink gave me some rest
From my own soul's distress and welts.

The cold emotion that I felt,
Discoloring my mind's debris
From my own soul's distress and welts—
For only sadness could I see.

Discoloring my mind's debris,
The ocean tossed and turned on me.
For only sadness could I see
And then I found you set me free.

The ocean tossed and turned on me
Yet you had taken me to land
And then I found you set me free;
We played like children in the sand.

Yet you had taken me to land;
You rescued me from sure demise.
We played like children in the sand;
You showed me that you were so wise.

You rescued me from sure demise—
That tragedy which gave me chills.
You showed me that you were so wise;
I had found solace in my quill.

Copyright © Alvin Thomas Ethington | Year Posted 2010




Details | Enclosed Rhyme |

         Gifted with 3 things  on a deserted Island what do I bring .
           Having clothes on,   a smart phone wet not smart at all
              For you have hope in store when you can not make a call ..

         ~ A sharpest of knives that starts fire 
               Ugg boots Australian built resilient  
                  A pot to boil water pure from the salt  ~
   
         This being a hard choice for it's these I desire  ~
        
           Belgium chocolate,  coffee with evaporated milk
               Tea  & sugar to last a decade , paper , pen 
                  A goose down blanket under stars ,warming like silk

           my favorite books , The four agreements 
                A working I pod, guitar, for music is my muse ..

          A Bible to read so I can keep my faith higher ~
      
          After becoming one with all nature I call this my own
             Now bring me a prozac and a cell phone 
            "   A special forces man ...oh no , temptation,  I may not come home ! "
          
           Yet being true to self , and my soul unfolds..
      ~ For I love and miss my children , what is life without them to hold ~
       
          
      "written for Shadows contest on 10-8-13"

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Concrete |
Im out swimming in the ocean 
looking like moss in this giant bubbly green potion 
Fading in the dark awoken 
in this life ship motion 
Sailing all the se7en seas literally in this poetic land of the soul called free
 we ain't free we locked out until we locked in like some G'z 
I just want something better 
yet Im still swimming in the sea....so things are even wetter 
I write life until death so what you read could be my last letter 

Copyright © Travis Lone Hill | Year Posted 2012




Details | Haiku |
Water licks your feet
Far cry from the beating sun
Desert sand to sea

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | I do not know? |




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.




Copyright © Scribbler Of Verses | Year Posted 2013

Details | Verse |
To read or watch movies, that is the question.
When tired at workday's end, depressed about death's
certainty and my recent surgery
unable to contribute purpose
i.e., figure out whether to bomb Iran
or worship Krshna
and other gods such as Homer gives us in the Iliad
I lack vision therefore I choose television.
Chemistry text, bifurcated plant key
esp. grasses, intro to calculus, physics
unopened time slides by inexorably.
That's the dilemma with no resolution,
drooping rachis, striations on the lemma.
Dying chooses you. You don't choose dying.
So go slow as the day will allow.
The cancer patient's real work is facing
harsh realities and making adjustments:
getting the most out of life, considering
what his children will need after he's gone,
preparing his wife, parents, colleagues and friends,
and completing important professional tasks.
Get the most out of life. That's all God asks.
In Life of Pi the tiger is tiresome, short-sighted
eating everything in sight today, no plan for tomorrow.
The boy, however, is beautiful, reading
the lifeboat manual, building a resting place on the ocean
from oars and life vests, writing about his emotions,
loneliness and observations. The tiger's obsession
with killing keeps our boy alive with fear,
an aphrodisiac, a distraction from any hint
of hopelessness. And then there is the ultimate unknown,
the boy's conversations with Krshna which explain
the innumerable stars and their gentle glow.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Couplet |
Your eyes-The open sea
Each gaze, a wave, engulfing me

Caught in the current-Strong and fast
Drowning in moments-Deep and vast

I grow less certain, everyday
If I will be able, to find my way

Back to shore

Copyright © Alexandra Steele | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse |
What is it to see the soil of home again?
A welcome, snow-struck and a return
To cold; sharp white contrasts sunburn.
We converse in broken tongues to men

We know, hooked on holiday language
Comprised of wandering hand signs.
Collect the car and pay parking fines,
Drive through towns and over a bridge

Until we reach the Western gateway.
Oh when will we arrive at our house?
No camels there, only field mouse
Which are eaten by our cat anyway.

The plane flies for an age, slyly yawning
Through the stretching, pealing sky,
A knife through air; what it is to fly.
Our travels over; a new day is dawning.

Copyright © Dan Keir | Year Posted 2013

Details | Footle |
Summer

Sunshine
moonshine


Children's dreams

Happy
scary


Discovery

Fearsome
awesome


Ocean

Rolling
foaming


Mother's Love

Immense
intense



Life's Pleasures

Eating
loving


Spring's Arrival

Cheerful
lovable


Poetry 

Soulful
music


Vanity

Empty
ugly


Mothers

Loving
giving


Corporal Desires

Lustful
sinful



Child

Happy
teary


Writer

Thoughtful
lyrical



Golden Years

Deserved
reward

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
 
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"

Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2012

Details | Enclosed Rhyme |
Before:
He waves the sea farewell
Is sure the shore will dwell

He wheels, hardly touching earth,
          His arms provoke the sky
                As wings about to fly:
                  Raising a newborn bird.

                A swan, yet not about to die
           a phoenix in disguise
      Refuting every lie
     Refusing less than high

      He writes his muted life away
           Remembers life on earth
                     A life of lack and dearth
                                       A miss that always stays

After:
He keeps his words inside
They too will always hide

***

May 4, 2017
Copyright © Darren White

Copyright © Darren White | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lyric |
The puzzle of my hallow poetry
all the words a jumble
chaotic, formless, scrambled
an uproar unfathomable.

Deep are the caves perpetual I fall
searching for words eternal
poetry unfading and immortal.

Endless as the stars that glow,
and boundless as the ocean blue;
in a shambles, in a muddle,
until, the unveiling of the veil.

Despite the cacophony, I search
through the bedlam of words colliding.

And then, an apocalypse epiphany
the unfolding of a vision uncloaked
it was hiding down deep within 
and now have spiraled up.

Endless as the stars that glow,
and boundless as the ocean blue;
in a shambles, in a muddle,
until, the unveiling of the veil.

I write with a madness and a fever
hysteria erupts in my mind
my thoughts a whirlwind of ideas.

Swirls of phrases multi-hued
a kaleidoscope psychedelic on paper
the pieces of my puzzle falling together
everlasting and everlasting.

Endless as the stars that glow,
and boundless as the ocean blue;
in a shambles, in a muddle,
until, the unveiling of the veil.

Endless as the stars that glow,
and boundless as the ocean blue, ocean blue, ocean blue . . . 

_________________________
September 23, 2017

Lyric/Boundless As The Ocean Blue
Copyright Protected, ID 942100


Written for the contest, Eight Word Challenge 4
sponsor, John Hamilton

Fourth Place

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2017

Details | Limerick |
OCEAN BLUE
Ocean blue of wander 
makes the heart grow fonder 
you are the beauty to the crying eyes
that sees the color you bring 
you brighten the way from 
a bad rainy day.

Poetic Judy Emery © 2004

Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Indulging in his own mind's fantasy,
The poet floats, ever so gently
In a thin ocean of honey
Bordering on the rim of reality.

The words begin to drip
From the sky, and slip
Past his mind where their lips
Meet the soil's moist grip.

They soon begin to seep
And slowly journey deep
Until the plant which was once asleep,
Is ready for the poet to reap it.

And the plant in question
Consists of words and expressions
That tend to leave an impression
In the poet's mind and profession.


But as the poet sings
In his ocean of gold,
He hears the bees' wings
And shockingly beholds
The defenders of Spring
Preparing to scold
His skin with their stings.
He won't be growing old.

And soon the Tempest arrives
Preparing to partake
And preparing to thrive
Upon the plant, soon to break
And cease to be alive
And cease to be awake.
The poet, unable to contrive
Anything, has made a mistake:


For when your imagination is extreme
And your thoughts seem supreme,
You will undoubtedly neglect
That you are the Poet's dream.

Copyright © Gael Attal | Year Posted 2009

Details | Free verse |
From being forced to cross the Atlantic Ocean under the cover of stars
to volunteering for a mission above every ocean to the stars.

From being stared at on an auction block and having the family sold and separated
to ten years running, in the most watched block, as a priceless model of the family unit.

From working for peanuts and fertilizing somebody's land with the blood that runs off of
the back
to owning the land, working the peanut, and transfusing the blood back.

From being robbed of a spoken language, losing a religion, a culture, a god
to influencing: the language spoken in cultures, songs in religion, and the pathway to God.

From losing a hand and a foot or a leg for not being fast enough to get far enough away
from “the man”
to using the hands, legs and the feet in running farther and faster than the average man.

From the king, of a nation, beaten into a personal slave and called names like coon,
spook, and “Boy”
to a boy named King who would grow up to “win over” a nation for the equal freedoms of
every person.

From generations that had to take the last names of past presidents
to being the name that can give a future generation its first president.

Copyright © Marlon Weaver | Year Posted 2008

Details | Free verse |
‘Pure Love”

Bathe me in the deepest blue
Hold that fire burning
Like sapphires and diamonds 
I am captured in your soul. 

Copyright © Adell Foster | Year Posted 2008