Best Circumnavigate Poems
Rather lost, they stare over the divide,
how best to circumnavigate this obstacle?
They can see a path gently sloping down
but it is far off to the north two days ride.
West is back from whence they had come,
east is an impassable cliff of sheer rocks.
They can not see far to the south but maybe,
they talk it over and head into the unknown.
Tumble weed rolling by pushed by the wind
as playfully it blows them into their path.
Miniscule trees dot the flat plateau
and small shrubs popping up here and there.
In a hurry they head on swiftly southwards
and soon start to descend to the valley below.
Billy is pale with anxiety as they push on
his wife Betty is due to give birth.
Sammy casts worried looks at his friend knowing
there is little he can say that will help.
At last they reach the valley and gallop on
Just another five miles will they make it in time?
Their horses now struggling, sweat pouring off them.
Billy's homestead comes into view cattle scattering
as they gallop through the herd and into the yard.
Sammy hangs back as Billy dashes in to Betty.
In full labour she screams "Where have you been?"
"The preacher is here to wed us. Did you get the ring?"
"I have it here" said Billy and without delay they were married.
And within minutes the twins arrived a boy and girl both bawling.
"Geezers you cut that close Billy" said Sammy
as they slumped on the front porch drinking beer.
"We made it in the nick of time" replied Billy
flushed with the joy and fulfilment of life.
written 17/09/2014
contest: Cowboys in the Badlands
sponsor Isaiah
FROM SUNSET TO SUNRISE
Her clinging mermaid-figure, auburn hair - french braid-chaste.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
His hands, like the current, draw her in. She inhales with fingers laced.
Like the sublime shoreline, their outlines traced.
Water and sand swirl around their feet, hearkening to the flautist-tide.
Pearl’s arms circumnavigate his nautical-neck. Strong arms gird her waist.
The sky, stars, and moon vanish - in a lover’s cove, they hide.
Recognized with a full-moon revelation - no disguise,
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes.
With the whispers of his high-tide love, she does rise,
Answering in kind - breathing in and out her replies,
As their lifetime stretches from sunset to sunrise.
The aquamarine of Pearl’s eyes match her swimming gown.
She is likely to drown in the whirlpool of his eyes,
Snatched by the undercurrent, of her lover’s seaweed crown.
The shrieking seagull o’erhead, her memory recalls.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
Feet weeping on serrated shells, his footprints lost in sandy halls.
His sea-drenched bodysuit, her frightened squalls.
Inlet eyes, stained red, revere venomous jellyfish - tentacled balls.
A shallow survivor - her lover’s footprints she could not save.
The darkened lighthouse, stronghold sinking, falls.
She dives into the cold abyss of a mourner’s grave.
Pearl will find her eternal love, beyond the sun’s rays.
11/2/2017
Laura Loo’s Rhyme Time II Contest
I could shed rags for an emperor's robe
I could climb mountains to escape the sea
I could circumnavigate the globe
But there's no escaping
The me of me.
Indistinct, they circumnavigate in the raw ~
they’re thoughts unprocessed and unpolished
ethereal and feral, nothing more than impulses really
If it were up to me, I might drown in that sea of ambiguity
and forego all communication with the outside world
forever content staying confined to my private universe
In most instances I couldn’t be bothered
yet at times I’d almost want to scream to be heard
that’s when I’d want to be as loud and clear as I could be
But sometimes the words refuse to form
at times so deep they must be mined
and surface in their own time that can’t be rushed
So I write because it allows me to think at my own pace
I can capture what I feel, what I remember
I can seize it and can verbalize it
I write for different reasons
I write because most people
never ask what’s on my mind when the time’s right
or won’t wait for me to put my thoughts to words
I write because I want to say it right
I want to choose my words
not be misquoted
Mostly I write to capture time
time as a memory, time as a treasure
time as tangible, time as a toy to amuse
Mostly I write to be heard
I write so I can say I’ve done my part
I’ve said my bit and can’t be faulted for staying quiet
I write so I won’t die
without a voice, without saying my piece
without having said all I had to say
AP: 1st place 2022
Posted on September 2, 2022
a pointing finger might circumnavigate to poke you in the eye
10/3/2018
Built in a Belfast shipyard
for Shaw Savill ‘n Albion Line.
On her flagstaff wind ‘n lee
flew the Southern Cross ensign,
down a slipway to the sea
launched afar by Her Majesty
Behold her pale eau de nil
green ‘n painted hull of grey,
at twenty knots her rate
twenty thousand tons aweigh.
On the seas a ship of fate
the world to circumnavigate
Yon the Empire far ‘n wide
from Southampton to Trinidad.
Where from ship to shore
off I waved goodbye as a lad,
till in the distance I saw
my home to be nevermore
Smoke from her aft funnel
into a big Caribbean sky blew,
then set a course westerly
by merchant captain ‘n crew.
And to each port ‘n quay
across the ocean carried me
I remember gazing in awe
up ‘n down her length ‘n beam,
at the mighty waves below
and how sea ‘n ship did gleam.
In canal gates under tow
winding our way lazy ‘n slow
Crossing the equator I saw
Davy Jones ‘n King Neptune
rising up out of the deep
‘neath a high December moon.
Till in safe passage ‘n keep
back to the depths they leap
Out on Oceania as a boy
in the lido deck pool I did dive.
The Southern Cross ‘n me
would our long voyage arrive,
on in all her hope ‘n glory
the grand old lady of the sea
On final Far East voyage
would alas be her swan song,
beached on a tidal seaway
sold ‘n scrapped in Chittagong.
A line flagship in her day
stripped bare where she lay
Written: May 2017
It was on board this ship nearly 50 years ago that me and my family left Trinidad bound for New Zealand - I was nearly 8 years old. We arrived on Christmas Day 1968 in Wellington (pictured) and a couple days later disembarked in Auckland. Built in the same shipyard as the Titanic in 1954, the SS Southern Cross had a far more fortuitous career transporting immigrants and pleasure seekers across the British Empire until her sad and final resting place in Chittagong, Bangladesh (pictured) where she ended her 50 years of service as the Ocean Breeze in a ship-breaking graveyard in 2004. She was the first passenger liner to be launched by a reigning monarch. Not a big ship by today's standards but as a boy to me she was huge - I thought she was magnificent. Still do.
To be successful in this life of ours
We must be prepared to be in it for the long haul
Grab the brass ring and hang on for dear life
It's surely not for the weak of heart
It takes a lot of intestinal fortitude
To make it through, to be content, to be happy
A total commitment that no matter what obstacles are in our way
Our approach allows us to circumnavigate them
And enjoy life to the fullest
We only get to go around once so make the most of it
Listen to me... as if I'm some kind of expert on the subject
Throughout life, it's a learning process
Some of us never understand that and ever get it right
For those that do, the rewards are magnificent
We're very fortunate that life is so forgiving
Few of us ever get it right
To sum it up, don't sweat the small stuff
© Jack Ellison 2014
Though I've yet to gaze on your unseen face,
or hear the sound of your imagined voice,
a tryst with you is what I most embrace,
tho' circumstance leaves us without much choice.
But ne'er discouraged, I form an image
(of you)—a sparkling vision of snow-white
and gold: you're etched in resplendent carriage,
and luminous, blonde halo that's sun-bright.
Moved and overjoyed by the thought of you,
I'd circumnavigate both space and time
to have you in my orbit and my view:
no greater love's for you but in my rhyme!
Therefore, beloved, we'll tarry just in this,
that soon we'll realize our united bliss.
Swallowed up somewhere in the South Pacific
Amelia and her Lockheed Electra vanish one day
On July 2, 1937 her last radio contact received
In that time, poor navigation tools at play
In an attempt to circumnavigate the globe
With Navigator Noonan she bravely set out
From South America they headed due east
Following a planned but difficult route
Africa, India, S.E. Asia and on to New Guinea
But she never arrived at the next scheduled stop
Howland Island, a ship standing by to refuel
In the vast ocean, this land only a tiny drop
Many scenarios imagined over the years
Ditched in the water and lost to the sea
Crashed on an island and finally succumbed
Knowing that lost to the world she must be.
At home in the vast reaches of the sky
Breaking ground for the women of her time
Scholar, author and fashion trend setter
A unanswered tragedy, she still in her prime
* In December of 2010, 3 small bones, a shoe, and some makeup found on
Nakumaroro Island in the vicinity of Howland Island. DNA studies underway to
determine whether they might be Amelias.
Leaving banking, I am thinking about banking. When the red humour from the human system drains off, we irrigate the haematic fluid inside through vein-channels. ‘Blood Banks’ with sanguine loans come to our rescue. In cases of renal malfunction, we ransack kidney colonies for mercenary donors. Or don’t we eye greedily at the safest vaults for the bean-shaped organ - at the healthy kidneys inside the frames of our beloved ones? For grafting damaged skin, happily we become clients of ‘Skin Banks’. Those banks supply us with new apparel – bio-RMG, culled from the *****sapiens. In needs cellular, ‘Tissue Banks’ help us consummate the transaction. Aren’t ‘Eye Banks’ the last resort of the visually deprived or underprivileged ones? To cater to cerebral needs, there are ‘Brain Banks’. ‘DNA Data Banks’ through gene cartography help us circumnavigate the vast continents of bioinformatics. Oh that we only had a ‘Philanthropy Bank’ to supply us with liquefied humanity for intra-venous infusion into the sadistic, misanthropic minds!
we can't circumnavigate the globe
although we'll surely try
your father has a sailboat
and I the will to die
let's get lost out on the sea
somewhere off Cape Horn
force our families to gather
in a solemn state of mourn
inform the attendance keeper
to expect absence this September
even with no accomplishments
we can pretend you'll all remember
our clear lack of gratitude
the anger kept inside
when the country is a city
on the ocean do we hide
If all the ifs and buts were laid
end to end round the world, I have
been told by a knowledgeable
scientist, they would circumnavigate
at least once or twice or three times.
Uncertain this statement is but it goes
to show if anyone did know for
certain, would it matter.
Procrastination picks its wasteful
effect through our lives, steals
moments which would be decisive.
But what causes this uncertainty,
anxiety and being afraid to go for it.
If we only knew.
Let us drift, you and me,
Beyond -- Straight into eternity --
To where eyes need not see,
And like pearls can gleam
Brightly as the morning sea
Washing along the shore line,
Revealing treasure long-hidden;
Never far, perhaps a tad forgotten
Is it any less treasurable?
Perhaps more.. Even beyond measurable:
Now that sand has been uncovered
And this beauty recovered--
But let us not digress..
Lest we act like a congress
And bumble like baboons
No.
Let not depreciation occur
Let treasure's interest concur
And incur cherishment --
Even if buried under shore--
Never losing any value
Not to this man of sinew...
For I miss my treasure
I miss the pearl eyes
And their delicate sighs...
My love and my pleasure.
Indeed, I miss what salt
Has tried to cover
And make covert
Putting time to fault..
Yes.. as I circumnavigate
This poem and its sporadic tone
Like ancient lines in old tomes
Of words that may rhyme with circumnavigate
That may lend meaning
To the overall message
The theme preceding...
Have I told you I love you today?
Love you like Earth loves May
The month of rebirth and life,
Of splendid weather and pipers' fife ,
That creates a smile radiant
Of a perfect hue; a gradient
Far beyond the most beautiful colour,
Far beyond any god's favour...
Have I told you I love you lately?
Perhaps some time you may allow me
(In the form of some better rhymes)
To express the most aeonic words
Which like the artist’s palette
Encapsulate exactly how
I feel about you, alone,
My darling, Dana.
IT MUST BE LOVE
it must be love darling,
our footprints set, in pink petal snow.
as we circumnavigate, the world bedims.
it must be love sweetheart,
as kaleidoscopic kisses
leave my soft lips, and
your irises blend into mine.
it must be love honey,
as each syllable
becomes a star
and we fly
by nectarous night.
it must be love dear,
as our smiles wrinkle
and our rockers creak, with a single heartbeat.
7/6/2017
Free Verse
Contest: Laura Loo’s Free Verse On Love Contest
1st Place
It is a nice sunny day
in the eastern Riverina
It is a perfect day to go for a ride
on my klr 650
might go for a ride to
circumnavigate Hume weir
yep
sounds like a plan
so I am thinking about
dropping in a Bunnings
to get some nails
to finish lining that shed
hm, then I could go to bcf
to get some gas cartridges
for the camp stove
yeah, no worries
that will all fit in my backpack
so, done all that
riding along the winding road
and see that the town of Tallangatta
has the big garage sale
I pull up at a few sites and
stumble upon this quaint
old wind up alarm clock
I wind it up a little, it works
ticking away nicely
it goes in the backpack
It is a beautiful day
and I enjoy my ride on the klr 650
as I get back to Holbrook
I get a snack at the bakery
and am about to head home
but the highway patrol decides to
do a random breath test on me
which returns zero
Strangely enough, between the noise
of the traffic and a few local swearing about
the lack of rain
the police officer hears a ticking noise
in my backpack
he seems concerned about that
and immediately gets his partner
to pin me down
and calls for backup
They have this scanner
which detects bomb making material
in my pack, and a ticking sound
so I am in trouble now
the backup units turn up
the area gets locked down
I am thrown into an armored vehicle
handcuffed etc.
The bomb squad turn up
they don't like the gas cylinders mix
with the nails and the ticking noise
Funny enough, they don't believe my story
why I bought those items......
It was a good day to go
for a ride on my klr 650.