Best Cargo Ships Poems
Before morning sun was dressed for the day,
the white noise came and shook the darkness,
like swells swinging ships on the French Passage,
cargo ships before the engine was pulled
from the womb of modernization
Before the day break open the citadel of night,
leaving weak traces of dark shadows in small crevices,
the darkness was crowned with gold and diamonds –
stars gazing on eastern isles
The sand storms came from Arabia
and we walked with our eyes closed
The Atlantic rocked ships like noisy babies,
the white surge broke like whips,
pushing salt in our wounds,
and we prayed to the God we’ve forgotten,
but he must allow our curse to come to pass,
it was written of us
Souls were thrown in the locker,
as we were dragged westward
On rigid eardrums I play this song
Categories:
cargo ships, history,
Form:
Narrative
The harbor gave a dim illumination,
lampposts vaguely penetrating the dark water.
As waves like shades of wine drowned the jagged shore of stone,
I watched a fibrous complexion of steel shimmer from the water's edge.
Ships sleep, rocking gently on a resting sea,
machines of quiet obedience.
The moon, outlining the clouds above with an electric hue,
watched over the winds as they circulated the vacant wharf like ghosts.
The smell of an approaching storm;
the sharp, distinctive fragrance of ozone as it sailed the satin brine.
The sound of distortion upon the ocean's surface;
precipitation submerged beneath its aquatic magnetism.
I closed my eyes as raindrops kissed my moonlit skin,
tracing the alloy carbon framework of cargo ships and yachts.
Falling down my cheekbones like an aggregation of tears,
the harbor became lost in a nostalgic cloudburst.
Categories:
cargo ships, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Men of Honor in the mist Kokoda 1942......
Men of Honor in the mist,...
Sometimes by a bullet kissed,...
Shoot the buggers they'd insist,...
Threeo plonked, lee enfield .303cal.
Japs dead, not missed....
Men in khaki dyed to green ,..
Kokoda men so bronzed and lean,.
Fought the bloody Jap so mean,...
Die did run till khakki/green....
Move in silence in the green,...
Keep your mouth shut, be unseen,..
Pull off a shot when you are sure,...
Head shot got him, yes one more....
Jonesy shot as we pulled back,..
Found him eaten on the track,..
Kill a Jap for sure today,...
Shoot the buggers make em pay....
Walk with death there every day...
Fix your bayonet, smell of hay?...
Keep your guard up, bayonet parry...
Butt slap drongo Jap, old Harry... Don Johnson
As Don Johnson2/25th Aussie Btn. said of his time on the Kokoda track in 1942, you would
smell the mouldy hay smell when the Jap was close. The dyed green Aussie uniform became 2
colours in the constant rain, green and khaki patches. (did we invent camoflague
uniforms)You heard the rattle as the Jap put a bullet in the barrel of his Arisaka rifle.
After his 5 shots the predictable Jap would come for you to bayonet fight you. So you'd
spike him or plonk him with unit .303.. The Japanese were losing many cargo ships to Yank
Submarines during the war, as payback they put American, British and Aussie prisoners on
board to be sunk to die on their way back empty to Japan....
http://www.scullywag.com/kokoda1942stoush
Categories:
cargo ships, adventuregreen,
Form:
Rhyme
Even precious jewels cannot approach their value,
For the women of merit are priced beyond them.
Their beauty is found in the works of love they do,
And in their smile facing the future that is never dim.
Most arise at dawn when it is still like the night
And wrap round them bands of strength like corsets.
Going out like the cargo ships before daylight,
They conduct their business for handsome profits.
Their beauty is matched by their hearts filled with virtue,
For there is rich wisdom and mercy on her tongue.
Their clothing soft fair linen of purple and blue,
And open are their hands to needy they live among.
Men give them praise and children give them honor,
Since her public reputation is all to her credit.
Eschewing evil for the good at every corner,
They ply their gifts toward works of merit.
Oh to be her partner in labor and pleasure,
For her fire will not go out for the night.
Her company for sure has profit in full measure,
And lifts high the muse of good cheer’s delight.
Faith is her deserved and hard-earned reward,
For her strength and self-respect passes the test.
About her worth there is candid accord,
Among women her title is the very best.
Categories:
cargo ships, faith, life, love, people,
Form:
Rhyme
[starboard port]
the ocean—an onyx plate predawn—
somnambulant ships preen with a swag of
warning lights
massive hulls: cargo ships, flotillas, tankers,
passenger liners loll; red lights buss
the somber slate of sky—spangled strings of
bawdy bulbs on the riggings—pole dance
beside the quay—ridged, behemoth smokestacks
toy with the flames of gold and white
[cabin’s lav—occupied]
waiting, my mind trundles to funeral pyres
Viking ships, then returns to marvel at
on-coming airport pot lights which
upstage the walled gasps
[very occupied]
the exodus to Singapore crescendos
we land—manned the plane performs
a ritual slide—ash and steam spew from
stacks of the other perpendicular
members
Touch down.
[the door opens]
First Published by Shooter Literary Magazine Spring of 2017
Categories:
cargo ships, love,
Form:
Free verse
At Waikiki
I love to catch much of an ocean breeze under the palm trees
To greet ‘Aloha’ to the rising sun on east Diamond Head
To sip a cup of senior discount McCafe on a street-side bench
To join a citizen tossing crumbles for fish’ and birds’ snack
To gaze on sluggish cargo ships offshore and buzzing flights in the sky
To admire a herd of maroon surfers on the silvery surges
To walk alongside with Ala Wai canal chiming the crew rowing a canoe
To brush drops on the head of a sudden shower in broad daylight
To draw a colorful rainbow spanning the misty valley beyond the sea
To sniff the plumeria of lei in the stalls by Kalakaua Ave. and Kapiolani park
To relish a creamy dish of poi and a heaped spoonful shaved-ice
To print my steps on the sands and disperse the foam on the beach
To look on the hula dancers with waving hands and singing Alohaoe
To have a sweet chat with curious tourists from all over the world
To be a romantic promenader in couples strolling along the seashore
To revel in a tone and tempo of strings pricked of ukulele
To bid farewell to the gorgeous sunset over the horizon
To watch splendid fireworks on every Friday event in Sheraton
To stroll around for touting window-shop till the mall opens
To count elysian, bright stars in the full-moon night
To have a dream in dreaming islands of Oahu, Hawaii
I love to exclaim “Mahalo, Waikiki!”, most of all
Categories:
cargo ships, beach, city, romantic, travel,
Form:
Free verse
My boat
A small boat moving through choppy water.
Prompt from "Grief" by Raymond Carver
Some sail in yachts
Some relax on cruise ships
Some transport fruit on cargo ships
Some are fishing in trawlers
Some refugees seek asylum
Some toil with nuclear reactors
Some wear military uniforms
Some honeymoon in new lands.
A few are in Boaty Mcboatface.
My little rowing boat has sprung a leak.
We are not all in the same boat
But we are on same sea.
30 June 2022
Sponsor Julia Ward
Contest Name SAILING
Categories:
cargo ships, boat, sea,
Form:
Free verse
She has a proclivity in being jaunty
As she looks down the asphalt way
With stunted growth of apple orchards
That blossom in the spring
They begin; they begin
A carefree end
To what was swollen, bloated, and rotten
And wickedness emitting the fragrance
Of decaying smells of worthlessness
Across the waters, floating and wet
She catches the why and emulates the peacefulness
On cargo ships at heaven’s gate
And longing for the weight to be lifted,
And longing for the weight to be lifted.
This heavy clumsy mess
This heavy clumsy mess
Ruminate on this
And ruminate on this
Categories:
cargo ships, passionlonging, longing,
Form:
Prose Poetry
I heard the sea gulls as the sea roared.
A great view of the Golden Gate Bridge,
as I watched the ships flow through the Gate.
After work, on early nights, I had a favorite spot.
Like the fog horns that guided cargo ships from the Far East,
'Quiet' often called out and gently ushered me in. And
Like a caring mortal, 'Quiet' embraced and cradled me.
Above was sky; below was ocean; within me was 'Quiet'.
She was my sanctuary, my sacred space, my place of prayer.
City traffic halted at the city's edge. Bright city lights, undesired.
My haven of renewal, my 'Quiet' get-away, just above The Pacific.
'Quiet' was special, unforgettable; made holy by God's Presence..
071622PSCtest, A Quiet Place, Mystic Rose Rose
Categories:
cargo ships, christian, city, silence,
Form:
Personification
Moving white neon lines,
Trace I.M. Pei’s Bank of China.
Elegant understated rhythm,
Precise and perfect.
Flowing lighted flags of cargo ships,
Behemoths of the world.
Bare bulb strings of pale yellow,
Pulsing to boat engines,
Walla wallas chugg everywhere.
Warship hurricane bows and guns,
Glowing menacingly across,
The surface shimmer from Kowloon.
Coming from a myriad shops.
Checkered patterns from the towers,
On the Hong Kong side.
Rising higher by the day.
Glowing gardens of the rich on old Victoria Peak.
Shining down from splendid views.
And the umbilical for all,
The hardy Hong Kong-Kowloon Ferry,
Plowing foamy paths for 100 years.
Hong Kong Harbor sets the standard,
Just ask anyone.
Categories:
cargo ships, places
Form:
Free verse
One cow is equal to one soul;
One soul is equal to one cow
We are all cows walking on the street,
All souls are cows the Namas said!
Kill one cow they will kill two souls,
Our grasses their cows graze on fearlessly.
Fearlessly they took our wells in their hand
Leaving our rivers bleeding helplessly here.
We are not Cows to be slaughered here,
We have our rights in this Egg-ful world.
See us not as a funeral cow who must take,
Obey any blow that comes to its body lines.
Until we confiscate the cargo ships
That cart away their senses to the saharas
They will still see us as cows they can whip
And kill and no one would ask them why or how.
When will we stop rubbing the lazy palms
Honourably in the Mother land that kills us?
Have they ever see us with grasses in our mouth?
Have they ever see us defecating in an open place?
We don't have four legs, horns, tail and big mouth!
Stop the act and see us not as once a brethren
Trying to steal some sinful glances at your
Tomatoes, groundnuts, wheat, and cucumber!
We are not cows to be slaughtered at will!
I know there has been a great deal said,
I know of a great deal of hope written
But let it also be told to them that we are not cows.
----Another Voice Stronger
(C) John Chizoba Vincent
Voice Of Vincent 2016
Categories:
cargo ships, africa, art,
Form:
Free verse
My heart is the old Titanic,
That sails on this somber galaxy,
Searching for a port to rest her aging engines,
But it is not the right time to stop the blades yet.
On the dark crimson sea, she travels and travels...
Days come and go like busy cargo ships,
And nights stroll by, hastily, without resting its wings,
She keeps penetrating deep into the apex of the Milky way,
Yearning to see the peaceful land of the saints.
Categories:
cargo ships, hope,
Form:
Free verse
My father and his father were Farmers. It wasn't told to me,
but I suspect that my Great Grandfather was also a Farmer.
My wife's father was also a hard-working and successful Farmer.
However, in my family line, farming ended with my father.
From my second-story window, it's a beautiful sight.
Presently, having chosen to retire in the rural, I am
surrounded on three sides by fields of corn, and on the
fourth side, beans greet me every day with a smile.
I don't see a Farmer, but his workmanship is on display.
I can't imagine a Farmer who doesn't know how to pray.
When his work is done, whether by choice or otherwise,
he must wait and trust his God for rain lest there be pain.
It's now late June, and in this Dixie Delta Region, there have
been very generous out-pours of rain that have treated the plants
and soil. Corn stalks, embraced with soft grains of corn, cover each
cob of corn. Golden, yellowish tassels grace the tops of corn stalks,
and the farmers are happy as they wait for the corn to harden.
Sometime in August when the corn has finally hardened, it will be
time for the harvest. One would assume that harvest is the final
test for the Farmer. In these parts, the Farmers are also dependent
upon the river. In the harvest season, it is good to be dry but not
for long. The river's depth must be adequate for the cargo ships
to float. If the rains are not just right, the Farmer must wait and pray.
063023PS
Categories:
cargo ships, pain, prayer,
Form:
Verse
When I met my Father
There are many cargo ships in the bay of Cascais this Monday afternoon
and I thought of my father; he too had been a seafarer.
Last time I saw him I was eighteen, sat on a bus going into town, he saw
me but I looked out of the widow pretending I didn´t see him.
When he looked straight ahead again his face was impassive but I saw
tears trickling down his chin. When the bus stopped I hurriedly left,
this old fool I thought, most likely drunk. Rain cooled my flushed face.
During the war years of 1940-45 my father sailed on ship delivering
war material to Britain and Russia and he had seen ships being hit by
torpedoes and men drown in the cold Arctic sea. When he came home
He couldn´t settle for a normal life and back then there was no help
for war damaged seamen, and many of them became drifters and only
slowly died. My father was a drunk I had seen him before sharing
a bottle of booze with his mates in the park, and I despised him and them.
No, my father never played a role in my upbringing and my childhood
was needlessly hard because of him. But today, sitting on the terrace
overlooking the blue bay, I remember his tears.
Categories:
cargo ships, family, introspection, life, father,
Form:
Blank verse
After a storm
There was a storm in the bay,
blue waves crashing ashore
and flooded the coastal road-
Today the bay is calm but look
at sea, it is grey anger
doesn’t becomes it.
The Haar is coming in a shawl of mist covers
the cargo ships
that moves lazily on a temporary tranquillity.
Categories:
cargo ships, absence, africa, allusion, anger,
Form:
Blank verse