Best Choppy Poems
This poem is dedicated to that kind person who donated me with a Premium Membership. I did not expect it but my grateful thanks comes with a wish of a happy and healthy New Year.
The breeze whispers in my ears:
”Come and join me in a spree
Let's move out towards the sea
Over choppy waves on currents adrift,
See your boat is in full speed,
My strong breeze has filled your sails
And speedily all is glee.
The hot air on the beach is far behind,
For now it's all fresh and clean.
Dolphins jump out of the waves,
Spraying droplets all around,
Till down again they go towards the deep.
Is it not a wonderful sight to see?”
Aimless foot prints mark a wind torn shore
deserted rifts splitting a secluded scene,
(where romance rocked a heart between
painted paradise and realness once adored)
our heads inevitable drift even deeper inside
And as blood red curtains paint a choppy sea
where last sun rays die a temporary death,
(so wondrous how they hold their breath
to pat one later on the back with glee)
even shallower time stamps left by our feet
Everything erased a minute after we passed by
incessant and unrelenting a water without feel,
(your hand in mine, I bend over and steal
evening breeze kisses, almost shy)
and find myself in you a place to hide
An uncertain future held without hope
washed away shores with unfulfilled dreams,
(but because nothing is as bad as it seems
with you by my side, I can certainly cope)
together our spirits and lives are complete
Darren White
Tim Smith
MY FATHER'S GENTLE HANDS
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I remember my father’s hands as a plumber’s hands—fiercely strong, calloused, rough, knuckle-battered, and dirty after a long-day’s work. Those hands shoveled; unclogged drains and toilets; repaired leaks; and installed pipes, commodes, and bathtubs. Those hands provided.
I remember my father’s hands as a fisherman’s hands—perfectly patient, tenacious, self-confident, and unwavering as he held his fishing line and lure stabile, waiting for a fish to take the bait. “Keep your hands steady. Stay focused,” he prompted me when I asked him to teach me how to fish from his flat-bottom boat. Those hands fished longer than they ‘plumbed,’ rarely missing an opportunity to commune with nature, seldom losing a fish. Those hands fed.
I remember my father’s hands as a treasure hunter’s hands—firm, certain, and capable, listening intently to his metal detector’s tones learning to discriminate the sound a good coin makes compared to the choppy, broken sound a junk target makes. Those hands searched, discriminated, and found soulful answers to life’s complex questions and dilemmas.
I remember my father’s hands as gentle healing hands—kind and comforting as he wiped away the tears that sometimes streamed down my face. Without saying a word, those hands loved, consoled, and encouraged—always righting my world.
I remember my father’s hands—full of strength and hope as he took my trembling hands in his. Those hands gave me courage—the courage to reach up in search of everything impossible, leaving me with the unbridled sense that to do anything less was the greatest impossibility of all. Even now whenever I need courage, I can feel his hand around mine helping me to feel invincible once again.
In my mind’s eye, I often see my father’s hands—every line and every wrinkle. They told a story about the kind of man he was. I’ll remember my father’s hands for the remainder of my life. I’m grateful for him, for his enduring spirit and presence, which continues to grace my life despite his passing some years ago.
Dad's hands tell a tale
they did countless loving things
they touched and guided
they shaped and molded
they encouraged me to reach
they held the stars in place
they held rising sun
they sought deep understanding
they chased lonely moon
Hark, it is the sea that lures me,
It murmurs slowly, it roars out loud.
It brushes lightly on the shingles,
It washes roughly brackish crags,
And as its moods yields to its whims,
It holds me firmly in its spell,
It holds me in its everlasting thrill.
Every blessed day it sings to me
Just like a siren, magical and forlorn,
And calls me back to her enticing grip.
Oft I may wander in some country glen,
Or climb a mountain high,
Still in my mind I hear the call,
Haunting and taunting,
Enticing and beckoning,
Till my lonely soul would yearn
To smell the briny spray of mighty waves,
To sail upon the gentle breakers,
To feel the salty wind ruffle my hair.
Quick, quick, I run towards the shore,
I launch my little boat onto the choppy waves,
My tiller quivers, my sail flutters,
Soon around me I behold
Vast endless expanse of celestial hues,
And smell the mighty fragrance of the blue.
The wondrous breezes gently blow
As smoothly as we glide to islands Greek,
To new adventures and delightful views,
That kindles warmth within my ancient soul.
Shores fade away, mistily, afar,
I am alone at last like a lonely cloud,
Horizons loom or recede so near, so far,
Inviting, luring, restless as my love.
Mesmerized I steer my little boat away,
Ahoy there, let no one stop my way.
For now I am alone and tranquil,
Alone at last with my delightful dream:
The sea that I love so much.
The tropical storm moves closer
Brings wind and choppy seas
From my window it's a gray mass
But ride out the storm with me
Trapped in total isolation
All alone in my pain
Even the joy of the Seagull
Disappears with falling rain
The rain brings it own small comforts
Water to make things green
Clouds to hold sun's thermometer
Time alone to daydream
Sponsor: PD
Contest: Any Poem
Written: June 08, 2013
Posted July 02, 2013
3/6/15
Where an everlasting breeze exists
Across the trees and cliffs
It was just me and a ship
Lost at sea adrift
I didn't really need a wish
Because I believed in gifts
As I continued to feed the fish
While remembering to plead the fifth
I wondered if I was really gone, would I ever be missed
No matter how choppy
The waters got I would not let it stop me
Even though the shores were always rocky
And it would be rather difficult to get out scot free
It was no time to be sloppy
So after several cups of coffee
I no longer felt like a zombie
And left when it was foggy
Even though to some it would've been kamikaze
I made it and took a moment to celebrate at a palm tree
Then when I was home, I copied
The answers to life on a floppy
While others were bragging and boasting about a bugatti
I hit them with the force of a tsunami
Like a shaft I fly,
a beam of glorious luminance,
I travel right into your bedroom
at the break of dawn.
"Wake up my friend,
my brothers are coming
to illuminate your day."
Minute follows minute
my duties I perform,
I peep through gaps
of a Venetian blind,
as someone on a bed
lies lazily supine.
I am his wake up call,
dazzle straight
into his heavy sleepy eyes.
"Get up my friend,
work beckons."
'Tis busy at the crèche
Where babies bare their hearts.
I breathe some warmth
upon their frail frames,
paint rosy their cheeks
in the faint hope
that some kind beings
would adopt
these poor unsettled souls.
Through a windowpane,
glass stained with holy men,
I filter hopefully and in stealth,
on a cold spotlight on a marble slab
of someone long forgotten
in an unfrequented church.
Would you consider night
as my immortal enemy?
Oh no, my friend, oh no,
for in the darkness of the gloom,
over choppy and rough seas
I travel happily over peril
and show the way to safety
to mariners lost at sea,
I am a beacon of hope.
Nearly Six Foot
Of heaven on the water I wish to sing, it is a funny thing.
A small boat and sail, the size of a tiny whale.
I can do this…surely.
The water was not choppy,
It is/was not even rough.
Crystal clear and flat like glass,
best picture that can be painted on any easel.
Yet, I, we, you, us… are going to need more paint.
Things, the parts that are real, never go…
together, fixed into position, or even near where they belong,
when you, me, we… are new at something and have no teacher.
Experience is the “master” of foolery.
Done in the presence of no one. (except Him, because he laughs)
The words tipped, the seat was wet, the pole did not fit in the hole.
The wind caught the rag, that was a sail, and lifted it high, a butterfly with wings.
Surely my un-preparedness was at fault, but my exuberance to begin,
overshot the bow… and I would, and did, end up in the drink… to swim.
Alas. It is barely, over five feet, yet taller than I by half,
when seen from a watery view.
STACE
A girl runner by the name of Stace
Ran the annual marathon race
near the end of the run
Both laces come undone
She stumbled and fell flat on her face.
OLD SAILOR
An old sailor was out on the ocean
It was choppy and he felt a motion
Had some curry last night
But the taste wasn't right
Down below felt a muffled explosion.
SUE ROSE
A young lady by the name of Sue Rose
Hoped that a man to her would propose
Couldn't understand why
All the men were so shy
Then in the mirror saw hairs in her nose.
ABDUL
Bush safari went Abdul with eight wives
Parked on a hillside for lunch to eat chives
Then to their dismay
Their jeep rolled away
Heard lions roaring and ran for their lives.
BLACK BILL
An undertaker in Dodge called Black Bill
To boost his business people he would kill
But one man wasn't dead
Shot Black Bill in the head
Now in a grave he lies up at Boot Hill.
FREDERICK STARK
A skinny dipper called Frederick Stark
Went for a swim in the sea, it was dark
Da Dum he could hear
It filled him with fear
Then in moonlight saw the fin of a shark.
JOCK
A Scotchman who was known as Big Jock
Went out walking one day by the Loch
A gust of wind blew
And up his kilt flew
Some passing girls were left in deep shock.
Written 2nd August 2019.
I was swimming in the ocean enjoying it so much
I back floated and relaxed with my cousins Mat and Hutch
All of a sudden Mat broke my dreamy thoughts with a scream
The water choppy, he was carried swiftly up stream
Two great whites were fighting over which would eat my poor Mat
So I chased after them and I smacked them with a big baseball bat
Is this human being serious? The biggest shark asked the other
I do not know the other shark replied but she looks like my mother
I am a grandma you dopes I said and I smacked each hard on the nose
This the smaller one said haughtily is not how this kind of shark story goes
So I jumped on his slick back. I bucked, screamed, jabbed, and I kicked
And I punched him and bit him, making him mad; his skin was quite thick
This land polluter is crazy the great whites agreed with some flair
So they gave me my cousin whom they had tossed in the air.
Because I liked it I gave them another bat smack across their noses
She is horrible! The great whites said as I hit them with hoses
Sure I got Matt back but due to those shark bullies he now he had PSTD
His swimming suit was gone, so he was sheepish being nude in front of me
So Hutch and I threw off our clothes and we all swam in birthday suits
But those sharks never came back, so glad they were finally loose
Now far offshore and beaten by the waves,
into the wind, they pulled to no effect.
The choppy seas, enough to quell the brave,
lept o’er the gunwales, merciless, unchecked.
He came to them, the fourth watch of the night;
not recognizing him, they were dismayed.
Thinking a ghost, they cried out at the sight.
Take heart; it is I. Do not be afraid.
Then Peter answered, Lord, if it is you,
command me, Walk, and I will come on out,
walked on the water till his fear broke through;
O you of little faith, why did you doubt?
Then, making far more progress than before,
with Christ aboard, they pulled for the far shore.
She moves in undulating beauty, a figure of mystery
who fully embodies and embraces her surroundings.
She cradles her arms around the earth like a tender mother
and fills deep oceans like a life giving womb.
Her fluid lines are as changing and malleable as the seasons
smooth and silky as a placid lake in summer
lazy and languid as a meandering river in autumn
choppy and volatile as a torrential flood in winter
laughing and spritely as a flowing fountain in spring.
She can be unpredictable and freeze into icicles
can break the will of the most hardened soul
or soften and melt into a fresh spring of happiness.
She is never silent, for her currents run deep
she knows no boundaries, for she is boundless.
Her liquid art is as unrestrained as the rains
endless clouds form and bear witness to her.
She is translucent and at times elusive
she can never be fully grasped
for she is the shape of water.
6/13/2021
I stand in a corner
with a flickering soul
reminiscent of a sentinel
standing apt in a full armor suit,
now rusting at the seams,
Like an abandoned lighthouse
on a deserted isle
with a whirling glowing eye
scouring the choppy water
for the lost souls
amid gathering fog
and a foreboding storm.
No sirens of the sea
have sung in recent times
to lure those lost at sea
to their rocky coast.
Fair winds and following seas.
May full sails surge with scudding breeze.
May peaceful moorings host your craft
wherever indulgent winds waft.
A toast now to your safe return.
May choppy seas be left astern.
May evening offer pleasing berth
to ensconce in halcyon firth.
yellow, orange, red, ribbons stretched across…the brilliant sun
the sound of a rooster..,a fiddler on a roof, above Anatevka
where roads are muddy and tradition is a foundation…milky
town comes alive…chop, chop, choppy…and doughy…fish
feathers…generations…heavy bundles and matchmaking
questions, seriously funny with portentous blessing…worship
peace and harmony interrupted by troublemaker, dancing
dragging his boots down muddy or dusty…near chimney
the bow strides across strings, pointedly…dramatically
the sky still in lullaby state, far above all…it sadly waits
God only knows what will happen next…
In shadows, we all, knowingly or in denial
cross the boundaries from the past to tomorrow
in our present, we levitate, our worries like birds
tomorrow will soon be our yesterdays, faraway looks
no one can traverse nor enter, perhaps lean into
but never mine…embrace not…feel sorry for
not their fault…the split of friendship…waving
bye bye, forgetting the punch line
God only knows what happens next
eventually existence ends and if we desire
we may know the why and wherefore
but likely we, gadabouts, will be checking out
the horizon that is His hem filling heaven’s temple