Best Dock Poems
Early morning and the gantry cranes
at Webb Dock look like long necked
dinosaurs lining up to drink from the river -
and the sky is aglow as it might have been
when tinged by the first hint of that asteroid
slamming into Yucatan on the other side
of the world 66 million years ago.
This is 2025 and no asteroid threatens
our fragile planet, yet more subtle
things do - things that reside in the dark
precincts of the human soul that pour
out pollution and in silos and undersea,
stoke embers that could at anytime
break free and incinerate us all.
I left my home, it wasn't so gorgeous,
but I knew I could no longer stay
I had nothing to live for,
seemed like only sadness would come my way,
headed for any deep water bay,
sitten' on the edge of sadness,...
wasted by time.....time...
on the bay of grief and sadness
I sat and wondered aloud....
how can I feel so lonely....
even in the midst of a crowd?
sittin' on the dock of sadness bay
wearing my ......crow....crown.....
I was royal fodder for sorrow,
looked like just sh_t would be comin' to me
I wanted so much to hold him,
but somehow fate would not let that be.....
so I'm sitten' on the fringe of cryin'....
every day.....ay, ay, ay, ay...
I'd whistle if I could...
and if it'd bring him to me
for just one more day...
but my throat is simply too.
clogged with tears
what can I say?
I sit on the riverbanks
of mighty river styx
the river I've longed to cross
so I could hold him once more...
but sadness has stranded me
here, on this lonely shore...
for Rene, my sister in sorrow,
among the millions of us in
the dark seas of grief....
Hickory Dickory Dock,
The mouse hushed up the clock.
But Cuckoo caught him by his tail,
Now mouse is serving time in jail.
Until once more the clock will chime,
And with both hands, the march of time
Then mouse might leave his prison cell,
However, only time will tell.
When parole, could be his saviour,
Quick release, for good behaviour.
its big and round
fill with sounds
clean no mouse
has a key and a
lock
its
THE HOUSE ON THE DOCK
Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay
was a very popular song in its day,
but when it played one day as I listened
I realized that the song was a song about nothing.
He's sitting in the morning sun
and he'll be sitting when the evening comes
watching the ships roll in,
then he'll watch them roll away again.
Additional verses for Sitting On The Dock Of The Bay
might just happen to play this way;
I'm sitting in a chair over here
then I sit in a chair over there
and then when I sit myself down
I proceed to turn my head around and around.
I may as well be sitting on a dock on the bay
wasting time and do nothing all day.
Like silent sentries in a row
dock pylons await our arrival.
It is low tide, as I step onto the gangway.
Crusty barnacles cling tenaciously
to the pylons, while salt water
laps the rocky shoreline.
A lanky blue heron carefully picks its way
between the fingers of the dock.
The cool breeze picks up
making the boats bob to and fro.
Halyard lines clang
against the masts of sailboats
while weather vanes turn toward
the prevailing northwest winds
The pungent smell of sea salt air
and the cool mist upon my face
evoke thoughts of escape
and high sea adventures.
As ocean breeze wafts gently
I close my eyes, inhale the fresh air
and give myself over to the sea.
(Before Sentencing.)
They called him ‘Poor Boy’
a victim of life’s promise...
a voice without love
neither percipient of
nor an indulgence in it.
© Harry J Horsman 2010
Hickory Dickory Dock
It doesn’t matter about the clock
When you come down
Don’t break your crown
For Jack will watch like a hawk
Russell Sivey
She scans the horizon for a sign
seems fate fell short again this time
And though no ship today, she shows no sorrow
A gentle sigh before she stands
She blows a kiss from mouth and hand
And smiles, for she's sure he'll be home tomorrow
Her presence as certain as the tides
She waits to claim her cherished prize
Well hot diggety dock, a mouse ran up my clock
Now that's quite a sight but it sounds like a crock
Since the digital revolution
Quite silly, what confusion
Young'uns are thinking you guys need a doc
© Jack Ellison 2015
(hello! I'z bee'z day old Cap-pin Mike! this is my first poem I posted on heres!
I'z writes poem'z about my life on day ocean. just bee'z keepin in yaz head dat
I'z very dis-sleck-sick and very very ADD so please try hard not taz pick on yaz
old Cap-pin Mike too'z hard and yaz will hear some amazanen'z storys. sum bee'z
adventures some bee'z trajj-itys but most bee'z funny but all will bee'z dim kind'z
of sea'z story'z. so yall bee'z injoy-inz and I'z hopes to makes all kinds of new
friend and make din laugh cause I'z bee'z postin day new poem everyday so you'z
can bee'z keepin ups on all day act-shawn your'z newest bestest friend
Captain Mike ps now'z you-za can bee'z injoy-inz dis first one)
let me'z tell you what your Captain is thinkin
and if you don't laugh den ya must be drinkin
sum dee'z boaters are really really funny
none dim realize "you can't have fun with money!"
they all buy dim shiney over priced boats
and wear deck shoes with de blue over coats
they out pay each other to have it polished
if you get a scratch on it "it's demolished!"
"whow feller, please don't panic"
"I don't do cosmetics I'm just the mechanic!"
"can you fix my toy-lit it's gone berserk?"
"and I don't know if my engine's even work!"
"oh make sure you fix the air-con-dish-n-are!"
"I might pay you when I get back from the bar"
"I'm a millionare I'm not paying for fun"
"your to pour for a boat like this one!"
I let him talk his talk, didn't pitch a fit
felt sorry for the man "he just doesn't get it!"
"get your pretty shoes buddy!, make de wife wear a bonnet"
"cause you aint havin fun if you don't put a scratch on it!"
By Capt. Mike!
ps if any one has a job I'd love to get hired
that man couldn't take a joke, I got fired!
Just up the river there is a dock,
you'll see it after the slimy rock.
Attached to the dock is an old, rusted boat
inside there’s a ripped, faded coat.
Some say it was owned by two young lovers,
who spent nights there against the wish of their mothers.
Later they married and still used the boat,
until one day it wouldn't float
The current was strong
and they didn't live long,
the canoe flipped
the wife's coat ripped
They screamed in vain
and the two were never seen again
Others say it belonged to a girl
who boated to find a freshwater pearl.
She wore a pink coat.
When she finally found that pearl she began to gloat.
She abandoned her boat,
and her cheap coat.
The girl than bought a large house,
and a new pink blouse
She left her boat at that dock
that lies after the slimy rock.
Many stories go around about the old canoe
that's rusted and covered in mildew
It hasn't been used
Nor has it been abused
But one thing we do know,
the answer to our question may just lurk below
The true story
in all of its glory
is just waiting to be found.
All we have to do is carefully look around.
The sea still wears her dangerous face,
her width cut arrow straight at the horizon
ragged at the other end, lace to scissors.
The wind is her hound, crazed with
the departure of wind that pushed no rain.
Colonies of gulls plot their exodus across
the island to the river, or on pinnacles
of the old fort, armed and ready for invaders
who do not come, only sea birds,
seeking asylum from their free lives
as if freedom is too much to bear sometimes,
or else they draw with their terrible focus
a telegraphy of sharp cries, wings
dipping into the morning harvest of
seaweed and shells, the hooves of wild
horses, the bones of old sailers.
I was sitting on the dock of the bay listening to a song
when Otis Redding happened to come walking along.
He said, "You watching the ships roll in?"
I said, "Yeah, and then watching ‘em roll away again."
He said, "That stuff's really dug by some,
but I think it’s all pretty much ho-hum."
The Old Man’s Dock
The old man’s dock, on a cold Scottish loch,
when the cock crows, he stands in a warm frock,
Taking stock of life’s secrets to unlock.
He stands firm to mock, death’s calling tick tock.
Hard as a rock, he leans against the shock,
as waves of fear knock, upon his old crock.