Best Crusoe Poems
If I had to choose Robin Hood, Robinson Crusoe or Peter Pan?
Hmm……
What a quandary.
What a plight.
I truly do not think I can.
I will never grow up, so I have the Peter Pan part down, furiously.
I have always yearned for my own island, and a giant tree house, curiously.
Wouldn’t I love to steal from the rich who have already stolen from the poor?
This choice cannot be done. I need a part of all of them, forever more.
Is the “ether” real?
Or just a distant longing
For love’s lost realm.
Perchance, a fading memory
Adrift
Upon an embryonic sea
Seeking rebirth
In moonlight’s melancholy
Awash
Upon the foaming froth of fear’s
Crusoe-like abandonment
Could the crescent queen
Be more than goddess of the night
Possess the very seeds we mortal crave
Share them in the silver of her glow
Invite us to bathe
Within the aura
Of her ethereal domain.
Six wives - three Catherines, two Annes and a Jane
were married to Henry in the course of his reign.
An Anne and a Catherine met their end by the axe.
Anne Boleyn was too haughty, Catherine Howard too lax.
Henry's very first wife was Catherine of Aragon,
both pious and faithful, a virtuous paragon.
Producing no sons, she incurred a divorce.
Anne of Cleves followed a similar course.
Her face was spotty; she had bad teeth and bad breath.
Don’t trust a portrait, the wise man saith..
Jane Seymore very sadly died as she gave birth.
Henry's last wife, Catherine Parr, was a woman of worth.
More a nurse than a playmate, she bathed Hal with affection
and did a good job to relieve his dejection.
Envoi
So that's the close of this ditty,
which I think is rather a pity.
No, I'm not the Poet Laureate,
as the Royal Court never saw to it.
If I were paid to do so,
I'd keep writing like Robinson Crusoe.
Memories of long gone school summer holidays
Far away from the gates of hell
bulling and Malay.
Six long weeks of freedom that seemed a year
staying in bed not having to get up at eight
descent food and not pig squill on your plate
Children's morning TV
cartoons and Robinson Crusoe
adrift at sea.
Going for long walks in the countryside
with my mates
Rolling down hills
staying out until it was dark and late
making buttercups and daisy chains
singing pop songs down the lane
going on day trips
Playing kiss and tell
Down by the sewage works
oh boy did it smell
Going to the youth club
Wednesday night
the girls looked and smelled pretty
and sometimes there was a fight.
Camping out all night in a tent
Out riding our bicycles
the chains coming off the wheels got bent
The time when the fair came around
and we'd rode the dodgems
and the waltzer than spun you around.
The sweets and treats that we'd eat
the games of football on the street
The first fumbled nervous kiss
of first love
sleepless nights sweetheart missed
the back row of the cinema
Reading comics under the bedclothes
with a torch at night
dreams of adventure and heroics
until the morning light.
Oh what fun before the return to hell
I recall everything and the smell.
Peter Dome.copyright.2013. Dec.
party's
like Crusoe when it's friday
on saturday a satyr lurks
sunday comes,no rest for wicked
monday I crawl to work.
Reading by the light of a flashlight
With the covers pulled over my head
Captain Nemo battled an octopus
Robinson Crusoe was thought to be dead
Gulliver went on his travels
Charlotte spun a new web
Jem wouldn’t kill a mockingbird
Oliver wanted more to be fed
Old Yeller had to be put down
Black Stallion ran faster than wind
Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang flew over the ocean
Tom talked with Huckleberry Finn
Mary Shelley constructed her monster
Natty Bumpo helped the last Mohican
When one adventure finally ended
I couldn’t wait for the next to begin
Power of Journeys
New horizons speak in hope and pull me to Pablo Neruda’s country
‘Twenty poems of love’ inspired by Santiago Robinson Crusoe Island
Serene landscapes volcanoes Andean mountains are outspokenly funky
I seek the space vibes vastness Chilean seduction loudly and silent
Few books opened my voice more than ‘The Gulag Archipelago’ scripted
by Alesandr Solzhenitsyn and thus my eyes have to explore the Siberian Plain
Despite all that ice a melting pot of souls minds and cultures encrypted
I need to welcome silence once more and Lake Baikal into my inner terrain
‘The Paradise of the Blind’ with heart blooded ink by Duong Thu Huong
wants exploration quiet reflection uncontaminated comprehension
Nature wrapped in philosophy the Mekong Delta is where I belong
Peace solitude reclusion at times require my full travelling attention
On this voyage Pinochet Stalin and Ho Chi Min can stay in their grave
Blending and mixing with beauty wise words Mother Earth is what I crave
Swashbuckling, piracy, Tyrone, Errol and yes, Rathbone.
All actors that rode the Spanish Main called the sea home.
Stories of Robinson Crusoe to Mysterious Island.
Fantasy stories with a moral, it’s for enjoyment for man.
Plenty of men have traveled the high seas.
They thought it was their purpose, their destiny.
A wild age then, a new world, a new hope.
Some ships battered and sunk at sea, some got lost,
But a lot reached the Eastern coast.
Now legends, fantasy, came from Melville and the like,
About Jason and the Argonauts seeking the fleece,
A fantasy that had a future so bright.
How Captain Ahab chased passionately for “Moby Dick”!
Mr. Peck, played the part to a tee, cinematography was a kick.
How about Crusoe and his man Friday? Truly one of the best.
The sea has always captured man’s imagination; it just roars sometimes calmly rests.
Movies made from great authors who knew not the way of fowl language.
Our Father has His own picture show going on; morals today signal the end of an age.
Our Holy Bible history is filled with many compassionate moments.
Men of strength courage and fortitude.
Our Father will get his Spiritual Family, keep reading.
Studying, be vigil Brethren, God will soon be amongst men with a Spiritual solitude.
I awaken after said storm thrown weakened am I
In awe in wonderment as to where I espy
Fervent to silent as I witness this breathing space
As I slowly rise my tall in this seeing succulent heaven place
Barren beaches of gold amidst greened hue
Hearing cresting of thundering waves crashing true
As I start to look around in hungering thirsting cry
It's the time to ask myself as to where am I, sigh!
To a palm leafy avenue I take to a rest
As I contemplate such wonder in tiring drained zest
I awaken to my belongings and to my belongings saved
For what I had on this journey, caught waves now waved
Thinking thoughts caught, then cast like the waves brought
So many like the drifting bringing waves, leave me naught
Contemplation runs wild as to where my wanting's declare
Recalling looking around, was it purely saved heaven stare
I know it's time to address the needing's if I'm to be found
With unknown known bravado in my mind has to be sound
As I look around me seeing what simply surrounds be
My time is to be taken to the accommodation of me, thee
Having searched seeked determined and decided such
In amazement abound, it's all in bountiful clutch
Coconut and their palms grace me shelter and food
Berries I dare to taste, feeding me fishing I should
Fresh water apart the nuts in rainy filled capture
I'm feeling Crusoe, of reading book stature
Sleeping I do soundly to the caressing waved shores
Whilst burning embers deter these petulant scores
Creatures of difference with no accountable stockabilty
Deem to me useless, with no accountability
It's the plantation that offers survivable quantities
That feed fuel my wanting's reaching inevitability
As days turn to weeks I'm in possible addressed talk
Not knowing the many creatures, in shyness I baulk
As weeks turn to months, and months into years
My name is Robinson, soon I'll share these tears for fears.
Above a great big sea of blue,
I saw a dragon, and he flew
while breathing fire into the air.
He saw our ship, and this I swear:
with claws he broke our ship in two.
How sharp those claws! How mean was he!
My shipmates fell into the sea.
How awful were their frightful screams.
I hear them still inside bad dreams
and see them drowning in debris.
From Hell I think that monster came.
I watched our sinking ship – aflame.
But luckily I never drowned.
I drifted till a beach I found.
The lone survivor I became.
Like Robinson Crusoe was I.
To stay alive I aimed to try.
For days, for weeks, then months and years
till I had used up all my tears,
I truly thought alone I’d die.
But oh, my goodness, one sweet day
a friendly dolphin came my way.
Upon his back he let me ride.
Dear friends, the good Lord DOES provide
though five long years I’d had to stay!
I’d prayed and prayed, and now I’m well,
back home and with this tale to tell.
Although I’m saved and so relieved,
my tale by no one is believed.
I hope that dragon’s back in Hell!
July 3, 2022
For Tall Tales 3: Quintilla Fantasy Fiction Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Jeff Kyser
For, ages past, I finally peeled out my illusory shell,
Roaming about naked on the surface, where my mind was covered with cloth made of rust,
Thus, regurgitate all my words swallowed, spit it back at me, for, it's rusty dust,
Use your shovel to dig off my steps, as my theories have finally fell.
The night stars abound, reminds me of glittery gold, strive to vain
A hearten statue sitting all day long on the city centre, lift the mess caused to rare fame,
O! Material like moss, I gathered the same,
Homage to no image, but their seeds I struggled to feign.
Coldly, boldly, I sent acquaintance running farther from my adventure,
For, my new tongue blabbers of no race's language,
Will I adapt to this life?, as I console my tears of unknown future,
Will the past vapourized? Never to surface in my newly age.
This I ponder, as I wander like Crusoe in an empty field,
Sorry to my past, because it what life yield.
i took her riding
this time my venue, not hers
she loves horses, i am no equestrian
i am beyond saddle sore now
trail rides where every bird is identified
a short illumination of the species
mine are in this little park
where we would steal away
paddle boats thru the geese and ducks
she would always pack up bread
i always gave her enough notice
so she could buy the better bread
the day-old the bakery dumps cheap
it is healthier she will tell you
i always considered myself educated
until i found her lips
Robison Crusoe washed ashore
an island of magical moments
an oeuvre in my captivated heart
my magic is in the carousel
horses that go round and round
back in line to do it again
holding onto the bar i lean in
to steal a kiss, keep her in laughter
as the music and horses dance in a wonderland
the Wurlitzer organ fills the air with a bewitchment
we join parents and children in the magic
later we retire upon a bench
from her bag appears our humble offerings
every morsel approved by the minister of health
every grain is explained by lips i so adore
the ducks and geese beg at our feet
she delights in each morsel she throws
the happiness she wears on her face
i see Mother Goose in the crowd approving
drakes and hens galore with ducklings
the beauty of joy fills her eyes
to love her is to share her
caged birds are a sad lot
such a small price to pay
ride the carousel hand in hand
the alchemy in whirling horses and music
from an age long gone now
my treasure, a moment all to myself with her
to dwell in the magic of sharing loaves
those adoring eyes watching her
are a chorus i share
the bird of paradise has no price
master of her every dream
that is the labor of love
surrounding those dreams
with the magic life holds
3/2/19 Lufkin
call me Robinson Crusoe
steer me toward my own island
in the Pacific,
let me be myself
one with nature
let me enjoy her balmy ideas
release me to summer
English journalist, Daniel Defoe,
was most famous for his novel Robinson Crusoe.
The whole idea of novels it’s said that he conceived,
and he wasn’t afraid to write on anything he believed.
(A lone voice whispers)
In The Midnight Garden
In-between worlds
When the world sleeps
In a strange place, I now know as Magadorne
I see you
Walking
Dressed in expensive white lace
With such grace
Surrounded by celestial white butterflies
Serenaded and summoned by the sound
Of a lone mesmerising golden horn
In an endless garden
Of twinkling flowers
Reborn
As my soul pines
For the smell of your so-familiar perfume
A glimpse of our wedding ring
Your hair
Across your beautiful face
Willing you to look
My way
So I can taste your lips
And run my hard fingertips
Across your soft hips
But you never look
Never see me
As you and your heavenly entourage and butterflies
Follow the twinkling flowers
Down to the river
Then to disappear
Out of sight
This happens to me
Every night
In surreal dreams
When the world sleeps
As I find myself
Stranded
Like a new
Robinson Crusoe
In The Midnight Gardens
Of Magadorne
Where Grief lives
In human form
And Mr. Desire
Stands and proudly blows
It's diamond-studded golden
Horn
To summon
The celestial butterflies
So watching spirits
In the Ether
Beyond time and space
Can gather
With popcorn
To watch me
Walk my walk
With my incarnated form of painful
Memories
In their special interdimensional place
Watching ghosts of the past
Pass by
With no expressions
Or emotional energy
For they are the only fragments of my past
I treasure
A beloved memory of you
I remember
Whenever I wake
I had the pleasure
To share
Yesterday
In The Midnight Gardens
Of Magadorne
Where Grief lives
In human form
(C)
Copyright John Duffy