Best Boats Poems
(Dedicated to one of my childhood friends)
You were one of those charming lilies
that bloomed, so fresh, in my springtime pond;
when my homesick wings of longings flutter and soar,
and my mind alights
on the periphery of the playparks of the past,
I reminisce all the little fun we had
along with our other friends -
as we strolled through the narrow trails
in the verdant flowery meadow
that sprawled near our school
during the tender years of our lives.
The giggles and the laughter
the chuckles and the chatter -
those shrieks and the squeals
that baffled even the needles of time
to forget their own pace
and hop and waltz along with us.
Then roads diverged, new air we breathed
as we took new paths to pursue our purposes in life.
Years later, you arrived once very near my place
yet we could not connect and get ourselves to meet.
That day when we talked on the phone
and I heard your voice after a very long time,
my mind leapt for joy and soaked for some time
in a summer drizzle of rainbow memories -
of those I had long forgotten
as you reminded them to me in our chat -
they linger on like pleasant petrichor.
Later, I tried to recollect and sing our childhood songs
rhyming it perfect with the
unrhyming clamor of our choruses.
When commitments in work and family responsibilities
seem to have rusted the gate to my nostalgic dam -
your call was the key to open it - and when creaking opened
wistful emotions gushed forth
to form an ocean of yearnings
to be a child once more.
You revived the puddles of my mind with paper boats
that carry leaves, stems, and flowers of fond memories.
I felt like a gleeful kite in the vast blue,
fleeing for a moment from the humdrum day.
You will forever be the same charming lily
adorning my little lake of most treasured blossoms.
My bestie, my soul-sis.
Think, children: what will you tell
your grandchildren when they ask
about Earth--once bursting green
and red and yellow with blossoms
everywhere, and bushes serene
in shadows of lime-colored trees,
with bird songs filling the air?
I hope you'll remember turquoise seas
brimming with life, color dancing on
water, boats with white sails, beaches,
seagulls, sandpipers, whales. Men fishing
creeks, children's splashing feet, sitting
beneath Summer's lush leaves,
making toy boats made of paper.
I know you'll recall purple mountains so tall,
snow-crested peaks of lilac at eveningfall;
inhaling perfumed blossoms and wonder
of pines, you could hear aspens whispering,
jays poking fun, noisy creeks in their run,
deer peeking quickly behind gentle oaks,
a magical potpourri for the mind.
Grandchildren will smile as you gaze out
the window, attempting to find memories
of Earth as it was long ago, before losing
our way in pollution's crazed mind. But now
all she can find: industries' emissions, urban pall,
oceans clogged, forests burned, icecaps gone,
plastics, dust, muck, sun going blind...
toy boats made of paper, bird so.......
forgotten now
Bring your guns
Bring your boats
Boats filled with ghosts
Boats weighted with chains
Chains that will one day break
Chains that will carry
Carry us to Zion
Carry our pain
Pain born of separation
Pain that preceded
Preceded our birth
Preceded our rising
Rising here within a new nation
Rising for we know
Know that Ja is merciful
Know that Abraham smiles
Smiles upon the righteous
Smiles though our tears
Tears that lift
Tears of joy
Joy born
Joy gained in freedom
Freedom that we took
Freedom we reclaimed
Reclaimed by us a strong people
Reclaimed by transcendent men
Men of purpose
Men who are Ja's chosen people
People who know our purpose
People who cry
Cry for our babies
Cry for Mother
Mother Africa
Mother of all children
Children who ripped from her
Children who grew pale
Pale as papyrus
Pale for they lack compassion
Compassion died
Compassion exchanged for greed
Greed that intoxicated
Greed for flesh
Flesh of coco
Flesh subjegated to their wanting
Wanting more power
Wanting things to stay the same
Same for us men
Same promise to set free
Free
Men
For Marugu MO's "Race Relations Contest".
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Raging, inviting. Inscrutable ice
King Neptune's daughter, her moods are water
You won't dive into the same ocean twice
She'll make you think it's your net that has caught her
Catch and release is her patent device
Wives tales have brought her whales to the slaughter
You'll receive notice of your sacrifice
on paper she folds into boats at high tide
Each kiss that she blows grows to gale at shoreline
She weighs on the scale that you chose to define
She's the grate of the sand. She's the dock. She's the bank
She will wait on dry land and watch you walk the plank
In their wake, sharks leave trails with their fins in the brine
but the trident that pins you makes marks you can't find
and impaled, you give in to each heartbreaking tine
yet forget every time that you sank
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
small boats
can still sail
within the stormiest
of weathers
as long as they avoid
collecting
rain waters
within
© Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
(November 10, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin USA)
Boats
Sail by
Leaving me
Waving goodbye
Off
stuck in the rains
I watch the kids ride
paper boats
A snail crosses
along a razor's edge,
from it's past, complete.
To it's futures, separate.
And just before it's twin selves
slide down the opposite sides
of a steely wall
it's last thought
captures the totality
of it's trek.
The atom in the
quantum corral,
a mirage of the discrete,
or a sum total of all?
Deck chairs and boats
in a Duchampion universe.
How would our own years
be viewed,
ninety degrees
from the razor's edge?
STOPPING BY BOATS ON A BLOWY EVENING
Whose boat this is I think I know
But still I want to sail it so
He will not see me jumping in
To take it out there for a row
The mountains think the theft’s a sin
The hills watch me with eerie grin
As I make circles in the moonlight -
Splash and dip, pull out , push in
The water here is clear and bright
It holds the promise of the night
The prow leaps o’er the lake-glass vast
As now I pull with all my might
The boat is lovely, small and fast
With raking oars and folded mast -
The promise which it makes will last
Long after waves and wake are past
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Two favorite poets are saluted in this parody. Robert Frost is the author of STOPPING BY WOODS ON A SNOWY EVENING, and its rubaiyat form and broad story are mimicked here. William Wordsworth was the inspiration behind the STOLEN BOAT exerpt from the PRELUDE, and the ideas of the boat story are also woven in to the rubaiyat.
i smile when i think of the river banks
where we crafted myriads of paper boats
out of unused sheets from our high school notes.
we would watch them float freely yet slowly
they drowned when they could no longer resist
the temptations of the blissful waters.
true. flirtatious wind of wild summers
could make us sway, dance or glide heedlessly
but only a while, cause like paper boats
we had to surrender to the diktats
of circumstances and of willful times.
its hot
now its your lot
take a stroll
where the fishman load
now time FOR THE RETRIED GOAT
and water bummer
FISHING SUMMER AND BOATS
Playful little kids
Under the heavenly showers
Sail tiny paper boats .
I sat on a redwood dock
in the town of Crescent City.
My mom had recently died.
and my heart was full of pity.
South Carolina is my home
but I needed to flee.
Under cold and starry skies
tugboats pulled big ships out to sea.
I felt like the little boats.
I've struggled to do my best.
As big ships gathered speed,
the tugboats returned to rest.
Eyes focused to see the redwoods,
only God could create.
No one can deny the miracle,
the redwoods that He made.
The great Pacific Ocean,
miles from my eastern shore,
Mom has crossed her ocean.
She rests, now, forever more.
nina a little girl and may flower
a promise of future boom
pinta a piñata let me eat candid
boats in the harbor
tied up and no place to go
a captured still life