Best All Hands On Deck Poems | Poetry

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The Best All Hands On Deck Poems

 
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Star Trek and Captain Kirk's Final Frontier

Kirk: ‘Lt. Uhura, come to my quarters at 1800 hours’
Uhura: ‘Yes captain, might I ask what’s up?’
Kirk: ‘Nothing now but something WILL be at 1800 hours’
Bones: ‘Jim, is this a medical issue?’
Kirk: ‘You bet your boner it is, Bones’
Sulu: ‘Captain, a Klingon ship is approaching’
Kirk:  ‘Blast that sucker to smithereens, I got a date’
Chekov: ‘Captain, you’ll need protection on this mission’
Kirk: No problem Ensign, got a few here in my wallet’

Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘May the force be with you’
Kirk:’ Thanks Obi, but you’re in the wrong contest’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘This isn’t PD’s contest?’
Kirk: ‘HELL no, now SKAT will probably disqualify us’
Obi-Wan Kenobi: ‘Well, may the force be with you anyway’
Kirk: ‘Look Kenobi, nobody’s forcing ANYBODY here’

Spock: ‘Captain, I’m receiving a message from SKATfleet Command’
Kirk: ‘What Mr. Spock? And why do you always talk like that?’
Spock: ‘To qualify for the contest, the writer has to command the ship’
Kirk: ‘Damn it all! What the…FRONT AND CENTER WRITER!’
Writer: ‘Um…All hands on deck?...Anchors away?’

Uhura: ‘Ohh Captain KIRRK, it’s 1800 hours’…
Kirk: ‘Not now Uhura, I’m not in the mood!’
Uhura: Ohh Captain WRITERRR, it’s 1800 hours’…
Writer: ‘Kirk, you have the helm. I’ll be in my quarters’ 
Spock: ‘Fascinating’
Kirk: ‘Shut-up Spock’…

Tim Ryerson
Theme: Sexual harassment in the workplace
For SKAT’s contest



Copyright © Tim Ryerson | Year Posted 2013

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The Tall Ships Burn

Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
singed by sullen Sol, not stayed by Poseidon's hand;
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Impenitent, sky rains ash blackening the night.
Fire sends a smoky pall upon the sea and land,
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.

Fire eats: the air, snuffs man's breath; highlighting their plight,
all hands on deck, the Captain calls, out his command.
Aflame, aflame, tall ship burns, see their masts ignite.

Hell's inferno comes calling on this sun lit night,
foul winds blow, fire roars, and so the flames are fanned;
burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight.

Without their ship, crews are lost to a debtors blight.
Up the went like scarecrows shriven by the brand,
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Cinder shower catch the dock; workers run in fright.
Pain and heartache fill the wharf; still, they must disband.
Burnished gold, aged bronze patinaed by the firelight
aflame, aflame, tall ships burn, see their masts ignite.

Keelmen Heaving in Coals by Night' by Turner

Published by Dual Coast 2014




Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015




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Little Gray Pirates

From crude wooden ships 
Made of twigs and leaves
That sail in the wind 
Now moored in the trees
Down from the crows' nest 
And over the sides
They descend like raiders 
In camouflaged disguise
Furry gray pirates
Plunder and sift
Nuggets pilfered in fall
Ensconced in the drift
No X's or paces
On hand drawn maps
Buccaneers dig kickshaws
For cold winter fat
Assiduous and nervous
And always on alert
For hungry bounty hunters
Aware of their worth
Threatened they scatter
It's "All hands on deck"
Retreating from danger
Their lives are in check
Back to the safety
Of the moored ships that sway
Make ready to sail
And loot the next day


           An original poem by thr "poemdog" Daniel Turner


Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016

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One Stormy Night

A storm torn boat thrashed on the ocean waves
As gales of wind knocked out their lanterns’ glow.
A frantic captain yelled “all hands on deck!”
Then watched as sails tore free; they’d moved too slow.

Brave as a lion, captain steered their course
Though jagged rocks scraped ‘gainst the hull with force.
The seamen battled through the dark of night
Until the seas grew calm at morning’s light.

They stood in silence, those that still remained
And bowed their heads for mates who’d met their fate.
Time and eternity told tales of mighty seas
That claimed the brave, then crushed their ships with ease.



Entry in the contest: On the Ocean Waves
Sponsor: Francine Roberts 
Iambic pentameter; no particular rhyme scheme. Three quatrains.


Copyright © Lucretia Crouse | Year Posted 2012

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Born to the sea

Born to the sea


Mind of water, flowing thoughts;
The currents beneath your words could change us all.
River heart, born to the sea;
The solace we seek waves to you and to me.


Join me on this voyage, over water, to a new land.
All hands on deck chairs are temporarily in the sand.
Cast ashore to repair our vessel,
But soon we shall cruise again, so hoist that sail.


Raise it so high, that the crow's nest will not be our peak
And the land dwellers will be the last people that we would wish to meet.
My crew and I are setting off on an adventure;
A journey across the deep blue, to a land of mischief and wonder.


The undiscovered land, on the other side of a new life.
We be pirates, so we be; so raise that Jolly Roger flag upon high.
Let all who see our symbol know the story of our ship.
The unsinkable voyager; 
A blast from the past, blowing through the wind.


Raise the sails and let the wind take us in and move us on
And throughout the jagged edged cliffs and beyond!
And on past the mermaids that sit upon the rocks,
Singing such enchanting songs
And on past the things that they call ‘The Leviathan’.


Release the Kraken!  The foulest beast from the Gods up above
And we shall continue this trek into the darkest of the rum.
To the bottom of the barrel, right down to the Admirals eye.
Let the birds be our guide to our next paradise.


Land ahoy!  There be treasure there for sure;
So onward ya scurvy rats and be prepared to fight once more!
We are damned to forever sail, 
Since the life at sea swallowed our cursed souls;
Now we travel these high seas in search of more silver and gold.


(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.



Copyright © Aa Harvey | Year Posted 2016

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The Life Of The Namby-Pamby

Tears rolled down.
Face wrinkled.
A little shout comes a frown.
I am weak and fickled,
Life is hard,
I am sad.
Life is for the ironclad,
But am a frail lad.
Controlled by emotions,
And also swayed by affection.

All hands on deck,
Does not fall under my purview,
I'd rather rest my neck,
Go on vacation for a nice view.
I guess its time to throw in the towel,
Then right back to my comfort zone.
Pick up my phone, browse and be alone,
Then to the kitchen for ready made food to fill my bowel.
Sleep, wake up and sleep again,
Your admonisions are in vain.
Give me an umbrella cos the sun is shinning,
I can't risk exposing my skin to drying.

Such is the life of the namby-pamby, then little by little failure creeps in.


Copyright © victor okechukwu | Year Posted 2015

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SHIVER ME TIMBERS

I'll tell ye of me life as a pirate
I knows ye sees me as some old codger
But when I was a young'n matey
I sailed 'neath the Jolly Roger!

Oh, it's truth I be tellin' ye now
'N ye may think that I be a loon
But I talk so rever'ntly 'bout me ship 'n Cap'n
For in truth, 'E made us dance a lively tune.

'E wore a patch o'er one eye
'N had a hook where fingers grow.
When we 'eard the thumpin' of 'Is  peg leg on deck
We knew some ship 'd be given up 'er cargo.

We'd be a'squintin' 'ard at the 'orizon
'N  'Ed  call for 'Is telescope to measure
If the sail that we'd come upon
Mightn't be a ship full o' a'rn kind o' treasure.

Then we'd sail up nice 'n cozy
A'fore 'Ed  run up the bones on black.
But by that time matey
They could not withstand a'rn attack.

"Shiver me timbers, All hands on deck!" , came 'Is  shout
For 'E was a Taker 'n ne'er a Giver.
It's many a time me eyes  'd see 'Im
Cuttin' out some poor soul's liver.

Oh, some tried to fight,
The foolish tried a runnin'
But the Cap'n made well sure
They'd get a'rn full broadside gunnin'.

We'd jump o'cross the ratlines with daggers  a'tween a'rn teeth
Oft times we'd skewer the entire crew
Then take 'ER  plunder aboard a'rn vessel
'N sink t'othern down to Davey Jones...so thar'd behind be left no clue.

Then the Cap'n set sail for Tortuga
Thar be plenty of Rum  'n  Women for us thar 
Ye still don't believe I was a pirate?
All I can say is..."ARRRRRRRRRR"!












Copyright © Dan Cwiak | Year Posted 2015

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LUSTY LOUISE


The lusty octopus Louise
Loved giving young sailors the squeeze

With her tentacles great
She could satisfy eight

Leaving all hands on deck with large hickeys


Copyright © Thomas Kurdyla | Year Posted 2010

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Ghost Ship

(Those who are familiar with the legend of
"The Flying Dutchman," or even the Wagnerian
opera with that title, will find it easy to
get into this poem; if not, I urge you to
check it out. Within the saga of the
eponymous captain and the endless repetition 
of his seven-year sentence, it is a 
fantastic tale of mystery, and still has 
its mesmerizing effect upon me)

It is quiet on the bay 
and boistrous on the shore;
the ship awaits its destiny,
romance awaits its foil and soon
departure claims its troth
above the lovers' agony,
beyond adventure's lore.

The sails are turned again to open sea,
the mast is high, all hands on deck, 
and through the mist is scanned
the pathos on their faces,
eyes upon the land, and hearts 
upon the lea they'll never cross again.

The Hollander is resolute,         
the capstan locked, the deep possessed
for yet another seven years
of still horizon, salt upon the lips
and tales once more down in the hold
of tragic irony,
of love forever left behind.
                 
Now in the night off foreign shores
when that dark hull appears
within the fog, or just above the clouds,
the captain might be seen alone
behind the wheel, and silent
as he listens for a distant bell
to sound the dawning
of his wedding day.
                   ~


Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2013

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Travel Free, TROUBLED TRANSIENT

TRAVEL FREE, TROUBLED TRANSIENT...

Lift the gate to roll with swine and the glory of it all
Ride the tide all night, abide by no law and stand tall...
Hitch-hike till' Hell says, "get out n' surf the SUN"
Do it all over Land Rover; don't blink 'till the deed is done
Divide doom by blue tears you stack
Kill the clock boy; time tempts worse than crack
Live the gift reckless, rest (maybe) when you die
Never look back Jack; middle finger to the sky!



*(brace yourself at '12, all hands on deck)


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2012

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Addicted to Gloves

The lights are on, but you're not home
You sit in your car all alone
You try on different brands, different styles
You try to control your primal instincts, living so wild
Ecitement fills the air, you buy some Dove chocolates, you get a free pair
This is the one thing in life you will not share
This is the thing that will make you be a loner
Right now you are relishing over the feel of your Isotoners
You look up and thank the Heavens above
For your strong addiction to gloves
The leather ones bring out the naught girl in you
The cloth ones go good with your Converse All Star classic shoes
Your scuba diving ones scream all hands on deck
Add your diving knife, then you are saying, whip me beat me, make me write bad 
checks
When you get out of the car, you discover when you wear them, you can still apply 
your anti theft device, the club
Come on, come clean, admit it, you are addicted to gloves
You rush into Walmart for the early morning sale beginning at 3 am
Get a pair of slice proof ones when you purchase 2 cans of Spam
No one really knows what your hands look like
You wear combat ones when watching UFC on Spike
Everyone knows what a bizarre world you share with your one and only true love
Everyone has their addictions and yours is truly gloves


Copyright © Eugene Carmen | Year Posted 2008

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The Voyage

...an exercise in rhythm and imagery.


                    ********


The harbor is alive with prayers and expectations, 
fishing boats jostle, make ready for outward bound, 
crews on their mettle load tackle, check rigging, 
as nets are dragged on board, sailors determined 
to grapple with fate, angry weather, the sea. 
It's early, the sun is beneath the horizon, 
seagulls are chattering, merchants are rising 
to lay out their merchandise ready for sale. 

The shore now a dot on the cloudless horizon, 
fair weather augurs a bountiful catch, 
calm ocean a'glitter with sparkling reflections, 
no breath of a wind, it's the engines' propulsion 
that draws them to where the best fishing 
is waiting, the nets are flung overboard, 
first pass is a triumph, the deck overflowing 
with slithering fish on their way to the ice. 

Another cast and the ocean's abundance is manifest, 
luck's on their side, so they set course for home, 
but they meet with a change in the weather's benevolence, 
carving through waves that would challenge the best. 
All hands on deck as they struggle to stay afloat, 
fighting with fortitude, praying for safety, 
swearing out loud at their fickle misfortune 
they stay at their stations and battle the danger. 

Seventeen hours of constant cacophony, 
orders yelled, and obeyed with a wink or a nod, 
until there was sunshine, the wind in abeyance, 
and sighs of relief that the boat was intact. 
The sails were in shreds and the mast was in splinters, 
but all the men thankful they came through alive. 
The catch was recorded, the biggest in memory, 
safe with their sweethearts until the next time. 



Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2014

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A Whaling Tale

A Whaling Tale

by Gabriel Magno

The whaling ships approach as I stare into the bay,
today I said by short farewells, to friends who pled I stay. 

A whaler I have dreamt to be, since I stood three feet tall,
my name appears among the list of worker’s on the wall.

I grab my heavy backpack, and board the pungent ship,
as whalers celebrate with wine, a long successful trip.

We sail under the moon light, as we brave the crashing waves,
and as the morning sun appears, the ocean now behaves.

The captain calls all hands on deck, to start the daily hunt,
he points and shouts “there she blows”, the whale we’ll soon confront.

Harpoon in hand I spot it rising, as we meet briefly eye to eye,
with trembling hands I cannot throw, and watch the peaceful creature die.

The captain shouts “throw hard, throw true, before it swims away”,
instead I dropped this lethal spear, and prayed it lives another day.

As I stood watching, another whaler did his duty and it was cast,
but as the Northern winds blew hard, it missed the whale who fled at last.

The captain’s wrath I took in stride, I count the hours until we land,
and no more do I dream of whaling, against it now I’ll surely stand.

God’s creatures one and all, are born like you and me,
to dwell in this a wondrous earth, longing to live peaceful and free.


Copyright © Gabriel Magno | Year Posted 2015

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China Clipper

Listen and you can hear the wind whisper 
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.

Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper 
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved  a real fear gripper.

Fast  Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a  thousand tons   
With errant compass windjammer now strayed

Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,                                         
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns

The current wants to go counter clockwise
 Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
 Sails unable to give pull to the right
 though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries

Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
                                                 
Exactly where was their lost location 
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots 
Get back on course or it’s their damnation

No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.

New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying  all things they refused to succumb.

Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea

Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape

West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.



Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
                                       
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles







Copyright © Alfred Berggren | Year Posted 2017

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Billow the Sails!

Aye and it’d be “Land Ho”, ya lazy landlubbers!
It’s where ya’d be if ya’d had yer druthers,
Braggin’ the seven seas and swiggin’ pints of ale, 
Chasin’ maidens and wishin’ on a mermaid tail!
Look sharp! Turn to! heave ho! All hands on deck,
Er I’ll have hemp stretchin’ round yer neck!
Thars work at be done afore ya see yer lovely Bettys,
Grab rudder afore ya run er up on the the jetties!
This old ship is mine from crow’s nest ta keel,
Heave to er you’ll be beggin yer next meal!
Swing the yardarm, rig the jibs, look lively, set  sail! 
Follow the south end a that north bound whale!
Put on yer sea legs and hand me the long glass
We be after silver mateys! Copper and brass!
Yu'd rob the gems off the pearly gates!
BILLOW THE SAILS, MATES!!
 




Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2010

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The Tenth Wave

THE TENTH WAVE



The rain drops prick the skin of the sea
Tumble with the urchins in the water,
The black water, so heavy, tired--
Watching it tic tac toe in millions of tiny rings
Tic tac toe, three by three by three 
Up until infinity--
As scores of seagulls watched from buoys 

Red sky at night, sailor's delight
Isn't that how it goes?
All hands on deck! All hands! 

Until then came, out of the night sky, a wind
With the sound and fury of a thousand black horses 
Pummeling down on the water, the great, fearsome ocean
And stirring it up like a bowl of soup

 All hands!  

The great boats all groaned in protest, 
Their wet, wooden bellies full 
Reeds choking shores uprooted and flew at the storm

The whole world seemed to be feeding the storm, 
Which would not be satiated, but howled for more
Chunks of earth, wood, sail, even human souls
Would not appease such an appetite

And then, in the pulse of three hours, a brief
Quiet...

...an aching silence 
where the sun deceived them
By shirking off the clouds for a moment
Hear the call of the birds... 

Red sky at morning, at morning, at mourning

It was then that the waves began-- 

Undulating at first, feel the water breathe, 
Soon rising, rising, black towers 
Into walls of water no one could scale,
Ripping across the top in violent zig-zags 
White madness, the open mouth-

-and they came, they came in rows
As tall as nightmares, even hungrier than the wind 
And they ate up everything they touched, 
Swallowing lives, swallowing that which made them 
Pulling our dwarfed armies into the deep, deep 
Dark, black salt water 
Until then, after the herald, and the birds didn't sing anymore 
A tenth wave, which rose colossal over the rest, 
Moving like a lost city,
Over the darkness, a shadow covering this world
Silenced what was left to be silenced 



 Little sailors  
 Little  sailors  
 All sailor's songs end  
 And On the Land 
Your little wives  
Will catch your songs on the wind 
 Will pick up those songs on the winds


Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2015

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The Eighth Wonder Of The World. ( Motion Pictures.)

" Scream, Ann, scream! Scream like you've never screamed before!"
    
     I saw their eyes, wide like turkey eggs
     for his bombast had provided us sneers.
     Just what is it he expects her to see
     that would leave her shaking, in tears?

 " Have any of you ever heard of..Kong?"

    There it is! This is it! The man's a fool!
    He's off for a film so they'll be thrilled!
    This ship is a tramp, not proper or trim.
    He'll wind up getting all of us killed.
   
   " All hands on Deck! All Hands on Deck!"

     She's gone! Oh my God! She's gone!
     Now what do we do? Hand out the guns!
     Is there enough bullets for them all?
     I still wonder: are we the only ones?

   " Come on! Who's going with me?!!"

     I can't believe the size of it! The size!!
     It's a mirage! It must be a nightmare!
     It's carried her off out in that jungle!
     My hands feel cold. We'd better beware.
   
     I might be lucky. I'm staying behind.
     I  shot it. I know I did!


   " I tell you, skipper, this Kong is as big as a house!"
   
     I slip up by Denhams' side to hear about
     Kong and these dragons and there's more!
     I thought those things were dead and gone
     Suppose one of them comes to this door?

   " Kong's Coming! Kong! Kong!"

     I heard the gong! Oh my God! It's Kong!
     He followed Driscoll and Ann right here.
     We've taken up arms! We've bolted the door!
     I wish I could be somewhere and not here.     

     He's In! He's Loose! Run! Run!
     EXPLOSION! I turn
     Kong stops. He staggers.
     He's down.
     I hear Denham shout:


   " Come On. I Got Him!
     We'll teach him fear! We're millionaires, boys!
     Kong! The EIGHTH WONDER OF THE WORLD!"

     I never slept all those weeks back.
     Gunshots and whips from the hold
     It's a mistake to bring this thing back.
     Denham is foolish and brazen and bold.

     EPILOGUE:
     
     I shipped out right after we docked.
     I pour another shot, look out to the sea.
     The mate just told me the news
     over the wireless:
     Kong is loose in New York.
     I wonder where Denham is...


Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2010

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The Signifigance of Living Corosion

Death. A bright beacon in a sea storm
Endowing warnings of rocky shores.
"All hands on deck!" vessel now prepared;
The time-driven waves directing it
Homeward, no matter the ships technique.

"...I can feel my insides rotting..."


Copyright © Eric Thomas | Year Posted 2013

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The Heart of a POET -- Speaks (Part 3)

Disintegrated
Red Tears , Create a Black Lake
Where my Heart now swims

You may Kiss your Bride : I raise HER veil, see the essence of my universe
Wrapping my arms around Her; drawing Her closer, We kiss our tongues dance
The eyes, ears the depths of my soul ; screaming “Rejoice; our host is Whole
 I remember Our Wedding Dance a Rhapsody to Eternity, the rest of the day 
                                            A soporiferous trance
I remember the last  Beautiful  Picture  I ever Felt of  “  L E N O R E  “
 My host  was  standing on the Shuffle-Board Court talking with Mr. Adams
 His only “FATHER” - in law :  Respectfully  my host gazes beyond “TO LENORE”
 Standing by the railing  on the main deck a few feet below : He glances and catches
 THE flash in LENORE’s Green Eyes : the mirrors of HER SOUL a silhouette :
  Against the Sun standing upon his own reflection Smiling at His smile : I Smile
 Sending  LENORE ‘s Heart a whisper :  a LOVE Song;  Singing of our FOREVER
 A Toast to MRS LENORE ELLEN(Adams)JOHNSON The Heartbeat of my SOUL
 Her eyes bypass me to her Daddy,  I nod my appreciation, He nods Saying call me D A D 
 OUR eyes  revert to LENORE who raises her glass which flies from her hand:  I glimps
As a sailing boom sweeps across the main deck Hearing the wails of fear and pain
The boom lifts LENORE up and throws Her over the Railing I glance at DAD “FROZEN
 In that second of time” I tore off my cummerbund tie and my shoes “All HANDS on Deck  
ALL HANDS ON DECK Man Overboard  I start to leap as the arms of a monster puts me in a
                                                       Bearhug
I can’t break through “ Let me go YOU stupid  M___er - F___er  Please LET ME GO I cried 
                                                        PLEASE


Copyright © HGarvey Daniel Esquire | Year Posted 2009

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Voyage

The harbor is alive with prayers and expectations, 
fishing boats jostle, make ready for outward bound, 
crews on their mettle load tackle, check rigging, 
as nets are dragged on board, sailors determined 
to grapple with fate, angry weather, the sea. 
It's early, the sun is beneath the horizon, 
seagulls are chattering, merchants are rising 
to lay out their merchandise ready for sale. 

The shore now a dot on the cloudless horizon, 
fair weather augurs a bountiful catch, 
calm ocean a'glitter with sparkling reflections, 
no breath of a wind, it's the engines' propulsion 
that draws them to where the best fishing 
is waiting, the nets are flung overboard, 
first pass is a triumph, the deck overflowing 
with slithering fish on their way to the ice. 

Another cast and the ocean's abundance is manifest, 
luck's on their side, so they set course for home, 
but they meet with a change in the weather's benevolence, 
carving through waves that would challenge the best. 
All hands on deck as they struggle to stay afloat, 
fighting with fortitude, praying for safety, 
swearing out loud at their fickle misfortune 
they stay at their stations and battle the danger. 

Seventeen hours of constant cacophony, 
orders yelled, and obeyed with a wink or a nod, 
until there was sunshine, the wind in abeyance, 
and sighs of relief that the boat was intact. 
The sails were in shreds and the mast was in splinters, 
but all the men thankful they came through alive. 
The catch was recorded, the biggest in memory, 
safe with their sweethearts until the next time.   

                     ********

...verses with no rhyme or discernible rhythm,
   written purely for dramatic effect.


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016

Details | All Hands On Deck Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Independence Day: A New Tradition

  Oh say can you see,
  Not your ordinary letter from me.

  You might enjoy a parade and some fireworks too,
  Just to remember the red, white, and blue.

  Or sing the national anthem before your favorite quarterback kicks,
  To honor the freedom we've had since 1776.

  But this year I propose, a brand new tradition,
  Not something you’d likely hear from a politician.

  Since we're already together, united as one,
  I thought we could remember there's still work to be done!

  For so many countries still need a hand,
  To have freedom like we have here in our land.

  Many have no rights like freedom of speech; out of fear they will refrain.
  Without money for food or a place to sleep, in chains they will remain.

  They don't have the option of an unemployment check,
  If the father's out of work, then it's all hands on deck.

  The kids aren't really worried about college applications in the fall;
  They're just hoping for the day that they could go to school at all.

  So I'm only going to ask that you do this one thing:
  Be a voice for the voiceless, and truly honor our king.

  Because it wasn't just Jefferson who made this a land of liberty,
  But it was really Jesus Christ who truly set us free.

  So let's all take a stand, from sea to shining sea,
  And watch together as we change our very own history.

  But wait! There's one more thing left to say,
  Happy Independence Day!


Copyright © Laura Wilmot | Year Posted 2010

Details | All Hands On Deck Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Me Thinking of You

I can get lost in your green eyes
Like gazing at the stars in the skies.
When I think of kissing your soft lips
My blood pulses hard enough to feel it in my finger tips.

The thought of the touch of your skin
Well, it makes me want to sin.
When I think of stroking your golden hair
It makes me take in a quick breath of air.

When I dream of soft breathes on your ears and sweet neck
I want to give in to temptation and have all hands on deck.
If I linger on images of walking with your hand in mine
I tend to lose the world around me one second at a time.

My thoughts tend to keep you near
And I celebrate inside when you are actually here.
My dream is that my thoughts become daily reality
That day will be when you say you will marry me.

Now don’t run away from my thoughts so fast
I am not rushing I want this to last.
It’s just sometimes my heart takes over my thoughts completely
Just know that I love you unconditionally


Copyright © Brian Magness | Year Posted 2011

Details | All Hands On Deck Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Eye of the Sea - part 3

Continued from The Eye of the Sea part 2


The heaving swell and the waves from hell
Soon swamped our valiant vessel,
With the holds in flood: tattered sails above,
We were in the direst of peril.

In a meet with the Captain, we lobbied the Chaplain,
Imploring him, ‘talk to the lord!’
Then came from his cabin a babbling of Latin,
Not that it did much good.

But one was at odds, worshipped Older Gods,
‘of Heath then!’ he proudly proclaimed,
As we started to falter he knelt at his altar
Beseeching his deity’s aid.

And from the crow’s nest the lookout impressed
Us all with his hawklike vision:
‘There’s rocks to the west; to the east the tempest;
But an island is on the horizon!’

The storm took our baggage, our yacht badly damaged,
We’d lost Pierre, Stint and O’Howell,
So we stopped for repairs, for provisions and spares
On the mystical Island of Flowers.

We lazed in the sun, while the work was done
By artisans, artists and slaves,
We stayed for three weeks, encamped on the beach,
Though we’d only planned a few days.

The lack of strife with the island life,
Had seduced us each and all:
Good food and wine, the living was fine
Hell’s teeth, we were having a ball!

The sun was high in a Simpson’s sky,
The waves were lapping the shore,
The Sinner prayed to the Gods he’d made,
‘The same tomorrow, but more!’

But the Captain was gravid, ‘too long have we tarried,
Needs must we be headed west,
By the next sunset, we’ll have all hands on deck,
Tomorrow we resume our quest!’

But two crewmen were missing, O’Leary and Griffin,
When it came to signing aboard,
They’d run to the hills with a couple of girls,
Desiring to travel no more.


THAT’S WHAT HAPPENS ON THE EQUATOR.


‘Ye mutinous dogs, I’ll catch ye by God,’
The skipper was fury and gall,
‘I’ll be back with hounds to hunt ye down,
Then I’ll have ye both keel hauled!’

So we left the port, clear five men short
But confident in our proficiency,
We shortened the cloth and doubled the watch,
Which tripled our efficiency.

But the five adrift were sorely missed
The strain was beginning to tell,
The Captain noticed and said to the Bosun:
‘This quest b’aint be goin’ so well!’

And the sinner prayed to the Gods he’d made,
‘Please see us through this mess!’
But his tremulous tears fell upon deaf ears,
And we stayed divinely unblessed.

Then a shrouding sea mist, apparition kissed
Emerged from the waters calm,
With eerie cries of torment and strife
And windblown ethereal forms.


Continued on The Eye of the Sea part 4


Copyright © simon cooper | Year Posted 2014

Details | All Hands On Deck Poem | Create an image from this poem.

all hands on deck

as there is no was ,in recongnition
of status,or rely on previous laurel
whose standard is foredone and
broken,so shld each soul treasure
the name in one hand alone.
who does solitary shun,and loves
with i to build the most concrete of
marks,come forth with both hands,as i,
we shall carve the fortress that disunity disdains


Copyright © emeka ozurumba | Year Posted 2008

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Voyage




The harbor is alive with prayers and expectations, 
fishing boats jostle, make ready for outward bound, 
crews on their mettle load tackle, check rigging, 
as nets are dragged on board, sailors determined 
to grapple with fate, angry weather, the sea. 
It's early, the sun is beneath the horizon, 
seagulls are chattering, merchants are rising 
to lay out their merchandise ready for sale. 

The shore now a dot on the cloudless horizon, 
fair weather augurs a bountiful catch, 
calm ocean a'glitter with sparkling reflections, 
no breath of a wind, it's the engines' propulsion 
that draws them to where the best fishing 
is waiting, the nets are flung overboard, 
first pass is a triumph, the deck overflowing 
with slithering fish on their way to the ice. 

Another cast and the ocean's abundance is manifest, 
luck's on their side, so they set course for home, 
but they meet with a change in the weather's benevolence, 
carving through waves that would challenge the best. 
All hands on deck as they struggle to stay afloat, 
fighting with fortitude, praying for safety, 
swearing out loud at their fickle misfortune 
they stay at their stations and battle the danger. 

Seventeen hours of constant cacophony, 
orders yelled, and obeyed with a wink or a nod, 
until there was sunshine, the wind in abeyance, 
and sighs of relief that the boat was intact. 
The sails were in shreds and the mast was in splinters, 
but all the men thankful they came through alive. 
The catch was recorded, the biggest in memory, 
safe with their sweethearts until the next time.   

Last Modified: June 04, 2015 at 02:55 pm
© bickerstaffe - all rights reserved 



Author Notes

...an exercise in imagery with no conventional rhythm or rhyme.   


Copyright © Keith Bickerstaffe | Year Posted 2016