Best Amphibious Poems


Timberland

Wide the mirrored water stretched,
licking green upon the pointed pines, limbs sweeping low and cool.

The creek meandered, soft giggles escaping mossy rocks
where polliwogs swam, nearly, but not quite frogs, still sporting pubescent tails;
the adults pontificating against the shallow bank,
throats swollen with amphibious wisdom.

Soft brown mud squished, a buttered cream,
between summer toasted toes wading into wonder.
Fragrant evening campfires heightened hungers,
supper roasting over charred coals flavored
the stirrings of a tempting crush on a boy much older;
this girl just barely navigating puberty's powerful push,
his smile extracting heightened pulse, blush brushed.

Life's long summer slipped slowly away
and autumn found his wife and child laying him down,
the plot unknown, unmarked by me;
yet, painful, still, the memory of broken trust,
of love-crust pitched to a not quite woman
deep in the rusting woods of Timberland.

Copyright, February 14, 2016

As I Paddled the River Nile

As I paddled the river Nile
I met a monstrous crocodile. 
She smiled at me enticingly.   
I smiled deferentially.  
Through large white teeth to me she said, 
"I want you in my river bed." 

"We are not acquainted enough
for such intimate, tasteless stuff," 
I cried.  A hippopotamus 
opined, "Hey, we're amphibious. 
We're inclined to romp through marshes; 
come, let's crush some reedy rushes." 

I paddled hard away.  The Nile 
now swirled by rapidly awhile
to the sea.  There where its two brinks 
grow apart it flows past a sphinx 
who lies prone and thinks endlessly 
deep thoughts about eternity. 

For eons and eons his mind 
thought thoughts about how to unbind 
gravity from mentality    
throughout universality, 
that we might freely float;  
no more need to paddle my boat.  

Unfortunately, he has no gumption 
to follow his least assumption; 
but we do chat on fluently
of, to wit, stuff way beyond me 
like hieroglyphic-ally writ 
papyri.  When he will not quit 

I wander alone to a tomb 
where lies Cleopatra, of whom 
each schoolgirl knows; how her last gasp 
came as she clasped to breast her asp. 
Grasp that story's significance
twixt geometry class and dance.

Whilst she patronymic-ally 
reigned, a most royal Ptolemy; 
she told Marc, "My new last 'nym' now'll
be 'Anthony'."  This, post her roll 
out, quite nude, from Julius' rug.  
His offer of sex met her mere shrug.  

I stood amid a pyramid 
or three and pondered where they hid, 
these pharaohs, all their treasury. 
Was power or mere pleasury 
their true architectural plan? 
To ever tell, no pharaoh can.  

These writs I write as my boat drifts
midst original hieroglyphs 
through the Mediterranean.  
I don't need a librarian  
to see, no sociology 
compares to Egyptology.
© John Smith  Create an image from this poem.

Summers Everlasting

Sand in sheets
scuffing skin and reminding 
last nights attire reaks like bonfire
 a hundred days like this 
   a sea of endless laughs rolling 
     like filmreels infinitely looped fantastic

Their cars rolled in, shiney and pretentious
  personalized plates waxed clever wit
crowding this small town to gloat in sand-side castles
Yacht club yucks shelling bucks like bayou crayfish
  condescending, fun loving, brash Chicago touristas
    
Bless their daughters who filed in sassy
  chin up, chest out trustafarians
scents of coconut lotion and clinique perfume
  wafting through our warm lake breeze reality
Giddy and loving our rough edged style
  intending to slum with townies, like we minded...
  smiles glowing in those bonfire nights
     mischievious and promising...
Every action thereafter defied catholic school education
   ...benificiaries of repression rebellion...like we minded!

Lake Michigan was paces from my bedroom window
 These sparrow serenaded mornings..
  ...morphing into something amphibious 
when the alewives were raked, we lay lazy 
Bodies melted into sand~~ sated with sun
 splashing back to cool off in sandbars
   coolers anchored in those cool waters
     taking long pulls off a perspiring Heineken

Beach days concluded with seagulls off to hunt
  Squaking as they ascended into pink and orangecicle skies
The water shimmered like a million illuminated snakes
 ...side winding-mirrored the suns final say
Couples pulled up to Harbor landing to see the show
  heads melted into one mass in windshields all around
    lovers seeing nature's beauty more vibrant as lovers do...

The sunset brings a new purple backdrop
  squaks are replaced with crickets chirps 
Bright-then-fading green...BRIGHT-then fading green
  Children gathered fireflies in jars laughing
Ice cream stained faces aglow with captive glee
 
Then to black and star filled, became the sky
  we returned to cooler sand pushing between our toes
scurrying through dunegrass seeking driftwood and brush
 creating a structure to take to flame...a science for proud boyscouts
There we gathered with newfound gals from cross lake 'burbs
  sunrise would end our night tonight...awaking to lifeguards scolding.
    
 

Inspired by John Heck's Summer Contest!!


Premium Member March

Mercurial, mischievous minx
Amphibious air swirling in turquoise tang
Ribald thief of restrained relief
Capricious caress in cobalt clouds
Hale blown heather tickles the daffodils' flaxen dress.

3/01/19

Robert Louis Curl

I quickly joined the Navy on June the 4th, 1943,  
As soon as I graduated at 17, life was definitely to be;
I received boot training in the state of Maryland, 
At Bainbridge, became a navigator noble and grand. 

I was sent to Amphibious Training wet, phew wee,  
At Little Creek in Virginia, where I got my crew,
Of different ranks including machinists as gunners,
The craft was 56-foot, our rations made us stunners.

But I was separated from my crew, went to Plymouth, 
In England, placed on a Liberty ship used to house, 
Replacement cargo for artillery that got destroyed, 
Which was so much longer than the crafts deployed. 

In Fahnouth England, I memorised Normandy maps, 
Prepared and used a Reflectoscope to turn on the taps;
We were scared of poison gas when we hit Omaha, 
I was quarantined on June 1st of ’44, needed mama.

We saved many from the crafts using cargo nets sublime, 
But they were difficult to climb in the rough seas, crime,  
A craft almost mounted the ship ‘cos of a high wave, 
And always we had to be steely and very, very brave.

The bombs from the Nazi’s were the size of footballs, 
And we painstakingly recovered many bodies, stalls, 
From the water which had just beaten them cruelly, 
And that first D-Day morning we were losing brutally. 

The Germans hedgehogs, or bombs for the landing crafts, 
Fired on us from a pillbox, but in my case American staff, 
Took my attacking pillbox out, and I was just so grateful, 
‘Cos it was causing me havoc ‘cos I almost felt too awful. 

Luckily that night two German planes simply just avoided us, 
After a few days we did hydrographic 3D printing work, suss,
For which I was commended, I contributed to today’s 3D printing
Then I lead the invasion of southern France, which was amazing. 

The Panama Canal saw me on a rocket ship headed for Japan, 
But the A-Bomb ended the war, and we went state-side to tan, 
My Honourable Discharge was in March of ’46, and I was quick,
To get back to my peacetime activities, but never forgot the sick.

A Blimmin' Cold Day, Even For Grandad

All avenues are amphibious arenas
Bubbles belch-burst, bitter Bacchanalian bombs
Clouds' cast-iron crescendo creates cold cantankerous caricatures
Drenched - darkness descending, daylight dying, disappearing duskwards
Every eye echoing every eye, emotional evidence enveloped
Fake furs, fashionable fools, firm friends fleeing flowing firmament
Garrulous girls giggle, grizzled gangsters get going, gravity gyroscopes - ginormous gloomy grey gusts!
Hapless Harry's hairpiece hovers, hesitates, hovers higher, hurriedly he hopes he has his hat,
Intimate iciness infiltrates irrepressibly inside, 
Jaunty Jack's japery, just jaded January jokes - jigsaw justice
Kilted killers, kleptomaniac kangaroos...
Lame laughs, low lamplight, laser liquid lines lash lustfully
Mercurial miasma mercilessly merging, mournful men mutter miserably
Nobody needs niceties, navigating newspapers, nothing new now
Ordered out over oof owed, obstinately offering old objections
Pavement pool-puddles pose problems, precautions probable, prayers perhaps...
Quintessential questing queens querulously quarrel,
Rain rushes relentlessly, rudely, rapaciously
Sizzling, steaming, slip-sliding silhouettes, soaked saturnine suits seething
Terry the tiger-tamer, tastefully tattooed, taking time talking tactfully to trembling tramps
Undernourished underpass underclass, underwhelmed under useless ubiquitous umbrellas
Vulgar victors, vim-vigour-verve, voraciously vanquished, vanity virulently violated,
Waistless waifs, wasted wastrels, wrestle with wicked westerly winds
X-rayed, X-rated 
Yesterday's youngsters yellowing, yawning, yearning
Zero zest. Zilch.
© Joe Buddha  Create an image from this poem.


D I S S E C T I O N

The frog jumps from pool to puddle...
       brain-death spark
       exhibits its unconscious species net
       no more heartbeats
       the cold amphibious skin is icy...
       scalpel  drill  claw  tweezers
       cuts butter-like biceps
       triceps tympanum
       that will spend the night
       in the formol thrash can...
       radius  tibia  will be eternal
      in the skeleton stand...
      hyperclean surgical gloves
     among soap pumps
     clean hands
     all sterile
     one or two tears
     a small dignified silence
     and all has ended

Standing Watered Ground---Sentinel Contest

Standing Watered Ground
                          Silence Within My Sound  "Sentinel"




        In the midst of oceanic chaos and madness
            The shores cornerstone anchors in pain
                Elemental forces assaulting in frigorific air
                    An amphibious blitzkrieg, a coup de main
 
            Proud, stoic tower of light standing strong 
                Within the core of this cyclonic devastation
                    Whipping winded white water warrior waves
                        Surrounded lone structure of land starvation

                Tidal waves of torment fill watered down walls
                    Gasping for air these breathing blocks may drown
                        Anxious skies await to bleach newly broken blocks
                            However this man made structure stands its ground



                                                         04/06/2016

Premium Member Purple Paradise

I feel my ears pop,
As the light above me increases ...
Columns of purple sunshine shimmer and dance.
I swim up out of the cool, inky blackness of the depths,

And finally reach the surface, head bobbing like a balloon,
Frilly slits on my neck closing up and sealing, as I switch to breathing air.
I suck the thick oxygen atmosphere deep into my lungs, then exhale.
The detritus from my gills comes up with the first breath, and I spit it away,

(Small creatures that follow me, gobble it up hungrily ... nothing wasted).
I need not struggle swimming on the surface here -
The water's high saline level helps me float without effort,
So I lay back and stretch, relaxing my length, as if in a chaise lounge.

The bright purple sky dances with clouds, (and a couple of bright stars),
Two blood-red suns now low, nearing the horizon.
Though they never set, they do crimp the reach for many hours,
Before climbing again to make the sky near-blue.

Clouds are rarely white, (only when the suns are high),
But vary in shades from crimson to pink,
Again, depending on the time of day and moisture content.
I live above AND below the water here ...

My genetic alterations, (very expensive, thus),
Allow me to extract oxygen from air and water, easily transitioning.
I have long webbed toes and fingers to swim speedily,
Eyes that can detect ultraviolet and infrared,

And something similar to sonar, that I can search the depths with,
And also use to tap into the communication satellites,
As well as send personal messages to others here such as I,
Who have chosen the amphibious life of this purple planet.

I have a house back on the island, with all amenities,
But I rarely go there, choosing instead to spend most of my time
On or near the water, searching the depths for the edibles,
Or sleeping on the beach under the stars,

Composing music and poetry during the day, or visiting friends.
I send my work out onto the inter-world web,
It earns me enough to remain comfortable ... and happy.
But what I love the most, are the other intelligent creatures here ...

Most are "sea" dwellers, but all are non-aggressive.
Learning the language of each will take a lifetime,
But it is a labor of love, with joyous reward ...
Friendship!

Inside D Day

INSIDE D DAY
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS


The weather is really lousy rained all day
I’m so nervous and edgy, I’m learning to pray
We are prepped and ready to complete our tasks
Now’s the moment, the hour, for the invasion of France 
My buddy tall and skinny, we call him Guana
From some little town near Birmingham, Alabama

He talks funny with a southern nasal drawl
I’m from Pittsburgh, he’s teaching me to say yall
It’s 3 AM and I haven’t slept well for several days
Fully geared, scared, but with a positive gaze
Brother graduated high school may enlist this summer 
Heard the last word a dying man says is mama

There’s 24 men in this landing craft, all are grim
Knowing survival of an amphibious landing is slim 
Heads down, you’ll get a good look soon enough
I’m wondering how many will die scaling that bluff
Our section of beach has the code name Omaha
Noise, sirens, destroyer firing a constant pah, pah, pah

Racing to shore, any moment, a need to quickly disembark
I wonder if the red roses are blooming at Columbus Park?
There’s incoming ordinance, you hear it pinging on the boat
When I exit, if it’s too deep, I’ll drop everything, so I can float
The boat has stopped, quite a distance from the shore
Heart pounding, mouth bone dry, awaiting, drop of the door

I look at my buddies, all silent, some their eyes closed
Lips moving, a rosary, the hope of survival fully exposed
We’ve trained for this exercise over and over again
If we disembark rapidly, we won’t lose too many men
Door drops, men begin exiting, lives hanging on a thread 
Wading their way to the shore thru the dying and dead

Got to the beach, looking for cover,  I see my friend Guana
Suddenly I’m looking up at the sky: Did I come this far to die?
My thoughts all go childhood, I can only think of  my mama

Premium Member Couscous

Preposterous hippopotamus laughs at scandalous rhinoceros. 
Precipitous, calamitous cumulus leaks rain on head.
Furious, igneous volcanoes spurt copious lava, aqueous and amphibious into sea. 
But despite the acrimonious albuminous setting,
anxious, ignominious and siliceous bed fellows, make amorous love anyway
wearing polymorphous, ponderous and porous pajamas in bed,
and enjoy anomalous couscous made by anonymous, ambidextrous, audacious, cantankerous cook.

Man In a Suitcase

MAN   IN    A    SUITCASE

Used to joke  how Gregory Peck  was my father                   
But never knew why I was called Sydney.                                             
Or why  Australia’s city was named after me -                       
And a dozen other cities around the world  farther.              

My dad surely was where mum’s love-treasure  was spent,   
But died before I was born  and before they could marry.      
Her family hated this guy but she was  tough, didn’t worry,          
And named me after the man for whom she was meant.        
     
She never discussed  her  feelings buried, 
Showed  no photos, never talked about him to me.      
Broken hearted I guess.   Who wouldn’t be?
I never knew  the man she would have married.

I didn’t really cotton  to  the name I had.
I preferred  Alan or Steve or maybe Vincent
And a dozen other names  meant  for a gent,
Regardless of who may have been my dad.

I  also disliked the name for its ambiguity,  this name Sydney
-  Sort of amphibious.  A name in American movies - for women,
It could swim across the ocean and in British movies - for men,  
(Always  small-time crooks who were chirpy and cockney).

No, I never liked the name.  It wasn’t  worth a jitney
To me;  and I used other nicknames for many a year,
It was only used in mockery for it was relatively rare.
Even today,  “Syd”  is ok;  but please, never call me “Sydney”

But I found a  dusty  old suitcase and lifted its lid  
After she passed away.   Her life’s  treasurechest, 
And out rolled some  gold,  photo of old soldier dressed
In uniform: he looked like me:  the name on back  was  Syd.

That moment  -  Damascus Road - change of heart.
Now,  proud to have it, say it, hear it.  Nicknames I forbid.
I like it  especially when my loving wife  says  “Syd”  
Now with this name  I’d never part.
…………………………………………………………………………………………….

Written for Linda-Marie’s contest  WHAT’S  IN  A  NAME?

Premium Member Frog Pond

Wet August
Umbrella mushrooms;
Bumper harvest

~~~~~~~~~


Cultured frog pond
Fresh amphibious meat;
Gourmet lifestyle

~~~~~~~~~


Chinese seventh month
Hungry ghosts loiter;
Earth-bound vacation

~~~~~~~~~


Chinese customs 
Before life, this life,
Afterlife connections

~~~~~~~~~


House by the woods
Solitary presence:
No one comes

~~~~~~~~~


No seasonings
Premium instant noodles;
No time to eat

~~~~~~~~~


Ascendant moon
Brilliant night sky;
Nightingale's lullaby

~~~~~~~~~


Tree house
Island getaway;
New horizons hurl

~~~~~~~~~


Mid-autumn lanterns
Procession of kids;
Misty moon floats

~~~~~~~~~

Faraway glimpses
Brand new stadium dome;
Sporty revelations

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
26 August 2014
Singapore

Premium Member An Amphibious Thought

There once was a frog
Who sat on a log
And had an amphibious thought

If you crossed some newts
With salamands cute
Exactly then, what have you got?

But when he asked Newt,
Newt got rather cross,
Said why would you want to do that?

When he asked the ‘mander
He got up his dander
They got in a similar spat

So he hit the road
And found him a toad
O Lawd, she had glorious thighs!

Since it got him naught
He banished his thought
Now they share his log, eating flies
© Jeff Kyser  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Dorothy

Somewhere on the ocean waves in the year of sixty six
The ocean wind and rain joined forces, a deadly dangerous mix
We were on our way from the Mediterranean, where we were deployed
Amphibious operations and some ports that we enjoyed

It was mid July, the sea was calm on a warm and sunny morning
We were heading into inclement weather, a violent hurricane warning
Later that day the seas picked up much higher than the norm
Word was passed that we were heading into the eye of the storm

We sailed against the wind fighting hard to stay on course
We had never before encountered a storm with such driving force
Waves the size of mountains came crashing across the bow
Dorothy was magnificent, queen of the seas for now

She never moved toward the mainland and had a very short history
She moved northward in the Atlantic and finally died at sea
We returned to Norfolk where our journey had begun
Check the superstructure and assess the damage that was done

Dorothy was a nightmare the way she howled and screamed
Dorothy was more beautiful than anything we dreamed
Sometimes I look out over the ocean thinking way back then
And Dorothy in her Glory, I’d love to see her once again.


Hurricane Dorothy in 1966 was a short lived hurricane
that died out in the North Atlantic never reaching the mainland.
I was at sea in the eye of the storm. Awesome.

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