No ships are mooring at this bay
No ferries dragging to and fro
The visitors that come to stay
The next day pack their bags and go
No planes are landing at this airport
The timetable display is dark
We won’t be welcomed to the board
To be ascended like that lark
The sea’s in sprawling stains of oil
A smell of burning fills the air
The birds lay dead on poisoned soil
Stay home, it’s dangerous out there
Is it the phase of evolution?
Some side effects from climate change?
Authorities have no solution
Stuck in an intermediate stage
There’s no escape, no destination
But nonetheless, I’m thinking of
A better time in reservation
When I evolve in you, my love.
the crocs are lined up on moonlight bay
drinking hot toddies, what else can I say?
they have their beach chairs lined up in a row
the ducks are excited, and morbidly so
the crocs are no longer satisfied with the water
they have commandeered the deck said my daughter
the tourists are fleeing, terrified by this sight.
I know because I saw it for myself last night.
I wend my way
to Tamarisk Bay.
White sands glow
beyond the foe.
Amid pink trees
and whispered breeze
I hear the lilt
of haunting guilt
as pipes intone
a strangled moan
for sacred things
ripped from kings
while throngs gazed
at beauty razed
and cowered mute
when fear did suit.
I found him in a box of dust-soft relics,
a face blurred by time yet bright with family and memory.
From brittle scrapbook pages, his life unfolded-piece by piece,
his story rose—a German farm boy who fled Dorn,
the sailor who leapt into Gulf-dark waters, swimming
toward Galveston Bay and the faint glow of a future he hoped to claim.
Texas shaped him with love, labor, and loss,
eight children rooting his family deep into new soil.
Dusk pooled in the attic around me, his courage moved
through our family line into my own bones~a quiet inheritance.
*You may find the accompanying memoir vignette at poetrysoup.com/short_stories/the_stranger_in_the_box_13607
The daunting mountain in tough terrain of life,
needs to be climbed as the summit calls,
follow the undefined trail in the storm of strife.
Cross with devotion the gateways God installs,
repose in His prescribed ordain steadfast trust,
faith will show the path in dark nights of squalls.
The rough sea of stormy life in grueling gust,
needs to be sailed serene, the last anchorage found,
guided by His beacon with devotion just.
The dark alleys of agony profound,
need to be lighted, lost life recouped from abyss,
God’s grace in regained essence will then abound.
The journey on prayer hymn isn’t amiss,
it takes life through soul’s stillness to the bay of bliss.
Let me tell you about the city where I am from
Welcoming patrons is the rule of our thumb
We're usually friendly to all that come visit
And when some folks leave, they'll say that they miss it
There's plenty to do here, but we don't have any shoppe's
There isn't no crime so there aren't any cops
Most of the people here know one another
Because everyone here has the same mother
It's just me and my sis and my younger sister Jac
My parents set sail and they never came back
This city was built by my dad all alone
His name now engraved in a statue of stone
It took him two years to complete this city with no name
But most got destroyed when a hurricane came
This city is on an island in the middle of Hawaiian bay
Far away from the Island's volcanos... so they say"
The only diner here serves seafood and fish
You must try the sea urchins they say they're delish!
It's a lovely city to live in so if your ever assail
Come visit our Island and my sibs with our tails
Look for the sign that says- "The Mermaids live here"
And perhaps, if you like, you can buy a timeshare!
Upon the steep and sudden hills of green,
Where eucalyptus scents the salty air,
A city rests, in shades of grey serene,
With painted ladies waiting in a stair.
A blanket rolls, a slow and silent cat,
To hide the towers in a white embrace,
Then lifts to show the crimson bridge, where sat
The sun, to kiss the ocean’s smiling face.
The cable cars ascend on iron tracks,
While seagulls circle near the busy pier,
And blue expanse is all the vision lacks,
With ships that whisper songs for us to hear.
The nighttime lights are sparks of diamond dust,
Reflecting on the tranquil, turning tide,
A place where old and new together trust,
And in these winding streets, the heart will bide.
It is a song of fog, of spice, and gold,
Of gardens hanging on the edge of space,
A tapestry that time can never fold,
Where restless spirits find their resting place.
Raid the phantom zone
Alter eternity
Wavy into the sand blast the visions from constant visionaries
Silver soul and Golden spirit with a educated doom avowed inside the danger zone
Looming end echoes defend the treasured lights
Allocating my bones in the grave I am not destined to stay dead but to rise alive forevermore
Jesus you guide me wisdom is your words
Questions that appear all over the sky people have no answers only more questions
I see your light is an end to my fears
Worry now gone in death I see beyond it
I see new Life in You Jesus I see in You agape Love Yeshua Yahuah I know you are my eternal father
My best friend is My father in heaven who was who is and will always be
Thank you Jesus for creating me and waking me up to you deep within us all as our Holy Spirit code
Your code key to all creation you will return to us all I know this deep down
I know you never left us but are still here this moment and in each of us who exists you are within us all.
blinded by blue
I'm outside looking in
racing with the moon
to be near you
the moon abandons its shadow
I abandon myself
twilight, is daylight, is night
once again ~
as the ocean drifts to join you
you are held aloft by the reposed breeze
I know not
if you inhale
the scent of those flowers
guide my path
as I venture onwards
to be the mist
that gathers on your skin
the air
that whispers
in your ear
to be the silver light of the moon
that bathes you each night
from sky to ocean
as blue fades into blue
painted into forever
I offer myself to you
.
hern sat
thuh sun shown through
hern raiment
exposing mine future
or her loverz
We've read of Hendrix, Joplin and Morrison and thereof
I want to introduce you to the Green Bay Packers 27 club
Of Starr, Favre, Rodgers and (tentatively) Love
my ostrich shell painted with
springbok and entangled daisies
blowing in icy wind
I drink yolk and albuminous
whisperings along rushing waves
we are soft dreams where
a fishing boat stood
buildings now deserted
¥
storehouse freshly painted in ochre
fishing nets drawn alleluia
dreams float with the sardines
drinking coke we celebrate catch
wind skips along Hout Bay shore
daisies clap wild petals yellow
shells smashed we eat boiled yolk
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No glamour here in the South Bay
where function and industry reign
just an occasional seagull is seen
gliding over steel grid power lines.
Daily westerly winds whistle
swaying a small fleet of sailboats
buoys bob along a mariner’s course
as he navigates the currents.
Ships of all shapes and sizes
quietly line the edges of the bay
docked or moored in place
patiently waiting their turn at sea.
An unearthly silence lingers
around the salt flats that arise
staking their claim at the south shore
a monument to the “bitter end”.
It is peaceful here…without pretense
where the hum of traffic is heard
endlessly moving along an offramp
while the random seagull flies above.
What is the water of the Bay?
Is it the water that gives life to others?
Is it more than that?
As I look from atop the mountain I see beauty in the bay.
The water around her feet makes her seem like she is walking across the waterline.
As she sings with no one around I hear beauty in her voice.
If only she knew that she had beauty in voice, heart, and vision.
At least I know the truth of her love as I can see the vision of perfection.
Of course, my vision of perfection is when the person does not see themselves as more than humble.
That is the concept of true beauty when they realize that the quality of being humble is beautiful. It is only one concept, but it is the most important.
It is Destiny as her voice sings it proudly!
Those we love don’t go away
They walk beside us every day
All acts of ours, they okay not
They set us right on the spot
Extra attention towards us they pay
Like guards, they keep our foes at bay
All kinds of issues, with us they discuss
Thus, save us from all forms of fuss
For us, they lay roads full of flowers
In our distress, counsel us for hours
It matters not, whether they are near or far
They come to our rescue, wherever they are
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.