Best Ferries Poems
This Aphrodite rose
slowly unfurls
pink ombre balms
of sun-kissed
springfalls,
as the luminous
lake of tears
cascade in
exotic wreaths
of honey-soaked
velvety sepals,
there succulent seeds
of zestful dawns adorned
our silken sheets
across luscious meadows
sprinkled with
glistening cosmic dust.
Yet neon streaks
of longing unveiled;
romanticized rainbows
engrossed within
fire opal clouds,
awaiting to drizzle
pleasing odes,
amalgamated with
drops of opium
meant to reveal
skeletons and secrets,
sculptured as
sultry souvenirs
of seasonal streams.
But ripples of reminiscences
reflect how
you and I
weathered howling winds
through unseelie storms
of oppressed lovers,
gliding in sync
to the echoes
of midnight screams,
rising from
sumptuous seas.
So, tonight, as curtains
fall in
hues of dusky dews,
cover me in sunrise
when the bleeding heart,
of blue-laced estuaries,
rhymes with
sangria vesper time,
where tomorrow’s
ocean ferries
purge prose
that never denies.
Let fervent
pearls pulverize
my colossal tarp
as the morning glows;
I ponder,
do mourning petals show,
the folly of
moonlit melancholy?
For you’ve devoured
the alluring depths
of campfire stories,
burning
untouched edges
within our twin souls,
whilst
cosmos
trembled
and sighed
in poetic ecstasy ~
we seized our
unsung melody…
For this
remains
as an
untold version
of our
dangerous glory~
etched on cupid’s
amethyst arrow.
Categories:
ferries, feelings,
Form:
Free verse
see
even the lights
they live
a bike skims the riverbank
fish leap, catch the sunlight
like bursts of laughter
above the morning water
noon. hot summer
children are learning to sing
golden shafts slip through
open church roofs
an empty stone bridge
people returning home, carrying
things. the ferries are lighting
up for the night tours
streetlamps oil lamps
along the paths and into homes
sky bursting, spilling stars
into every child’s dream
See
even the lights
They live.
2010.8.
-NOTICE-
I would love it if Soupers could give me some critical feedback. I don't even mind very very
strong critiques as long as they're constructive. I'm always encouraged by all the positive
comments you all give me, but I think it's time to upgrade my writing skills. ;) So come on
and take my poem to pieces, people! :D
Categories:
ferries, life
Form:
Free verse
There was a young lassie named Heather,
Who played on the beach in hot weather,
She thought it a sin,
Just dressed in her skin,
So covered herself with three feathers.
II
Remember the beach-babe named Heather?
Who covered herself in three feathers?
The boys were aware,
And started to stare,
So now she wears tight shiny leather.
The following is not a limerick, but it continues the story of Heather's Feathers
III
‘Twas a fine use of leather,
On our girl named Heather,
For the boys had to be on a tether.
But leather made Heather
Break out in hot weather,
So now she is back to the feathers.
Now, back to the limericks
IV
Our sweet northern princess named Heather,
Is hooked on a new kind of feather,
It is not from a moose,
It’s Canadian Goose,
So cozy in all kinds of weather.
V
Our Canadian Heather’s a Newfy,
Which to most of us sounds kind of goofy,
But to those from the “Rock”,
She’s the belle of the docks,
With her feathers all ruffled and poofy.
VI
Our Heather has moved to the prairies,
She’s tired of travelling on ferries,
She’s now wearing loafers
And chasing poor gophers,
Which makes her all sweaty and weary.
And now for the conclusion to our story (in rhyme)
VII
Oh, Heather, dear Heather,
What became of your feather,
The last one you had left to dance in,
For the two had been sold,
As the story was told*,
And the last one was held up for ransom.
Some bikers in leather,
Kidnapped our dear heather,
And wanted ten grand to return her,
Let there be no mistake,
She's a lovely 'cheesecake',
But I haven't the money to earn her.
So I made up a plan,
'Twas a bit of a scam,
When I told them I'd pay for my Heather,
So it must have been fate,
When I broke down their gate,
Took my Heather and left them the feather.
Now I have my dear Heather,
Who is plucked of her feather,
And I haven't the money to buy one,
But she says it's okay,
Says she likes it this way,
For the boys in town call her 'The Nude One'.
*That's another story for another time.
Categories:
ferries, humor, humorous,
Form:
Limerick
The smiling loch gives a welcome
Along with the vigorous pine,
Time to recharge the soul
And smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Misty mountains of mystery
Are a drug with a natural high,
And offer more to discover
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The landscape changes each minute
As clouds give way to the shine,
As the sun whispers the invite
Smell the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
White washed homes contrast colour
Of illuminous mountain sides,
That greet the Cali ferries,
And bring life to the Isle of Skye.
You can almost touch the mountains
As you're touched by the Western Isles,
Three dimensions experienced, while
Sipping coffee on the Isle of Skye.
But the likeness of God in nature
Stirs the fourth dimension inside,
Marries the natural and spiritual, while
Smelling the coffee on the Isle of Skye.
Chaos theory must answer
To the Western Island design,
A place too wonderful for me
While smelling coffee on the Isle of Skye.
The Gaelic heart of Scotland
Melts into the core of mine,
As the wide-eyed little boy
Smells the coffee on the Isle of Sky.
Categories:
ferries, places
Form:
Rhyme
With blinking eyes, and a new moon aglow
Family footsteps skip so glad and sleek
Come giddy days of Yuletide, we all flow.
Thrill of circus spins with rides to and fro
As Snowman pops with a giggly shriek
With blinking eyes, and a new moon aglow.
Ferries wheels churn tummies, we overflow
When orange bulbs parade their fine mystique,
Come giddy days of Yuletide, we all flow.
Hot dogs, candy canes wipe lips; trinkets in tow
While fair’s confetti kisses Mom’s pink cheek
Come giddy days of Yuletide, we all flow.
Dad wins a bike, grandest prize of the show
As laughter rises with clowns’ hide-and-seek,
Come giddy days of Yuletide, we all flow.
This joyride of nights caresses to grow
While we await fete’s magic week to week
With blinking eyes ,and a new moon aglow
Come giddy days of Yuletide, we all flow!
'''''''''''''''''''''''
Carol Eastman's Children's Christmas or Holiday Tale
by nette onclaud
11/28/2014
Categories:
ferries, christmas, family, magic,
Form:
Villanelle
In Hades, flows the chthonic Styx, a river
of woe and pain (a channel thoroughfare;
where Charon ferries the dead, who despair)
which unnerves our damned souls till we quiver.
The Styx! It's like cirrhosis which kills the liver,
metastasizing there; but does not care;
and tortures us beyond what we can bear!
Because we are thrice-damned, we now shiver
with the peals of the Stygian death-knell;
while Heaven appears like a hope long dead
(as if we’re ten-thousand feet deep in hell!),
here, where the redeemed dare not walk or tread,
we are but ghosts, like shades without a shell:
yet, hell can we brave; but, the Styx we dread.
Categories:
ferries, dark, death, fear, metaphor,
Form:
Sonnet
She sits on a street corner with a teardrop in her eye
Wishing she were in the cars of the people driving by
Her mother left with some john about two months ago
The man with the eviction notice didn’t care she had no place else to go
She carries in her small backpack everything she owns
The coming of the winter colds is in the winds that have blown
The bed she made on a City Park bench can comfort her no more
Her absences in the public school do not entice anyone to go looking for …
… the poor little black girl that nobody cares about
She has potential deep inside of her buried beneath the hunger pains
But nobody in this busy world recognizes what there is to gain
She is doing everything she possibly can to stop from turning tricks
But the only thing her mother taught her was how to hide the bruises from her kicks
The Styrofoam cup she holds out to strangers hasn’t collected any coin
People just leave her looks of disgust as if she is at fault for being forlorn
Shadows cast by the high-rise buildings grow longer with the setting sun
As commuters begin their journeys home she stands up in front of everyone …
… and the poor little black girl lets out a booming shout
“I don’t do this because I want to; being abandoned was not my choice;
I tried quietly to ask for help – but today I will use my voice
I turned thirteen years old today – the anniversary of another girl’s mistake
Is it too much to ask for, just once, a piece of cake?”
“You can pretend that I don’t exist; you can pretend that you’re better than me;
You can long for that future day when I am no longer here for you to see;
You can hate me and fear me and just turn your head the other way;
But you will see me again, sitting by our Father to hear your excuses come judgment day”
Businessmen and businesswomen stopped for just a minute
They looked around at one another not sure of the message or how to spin it
Then continued towards their taxis, subways, ferries and their cars
She stood alone after the sun went down beneath the twinkling stars …
It is up to you, now, to determine how this story turns out
Categories:
ferries, life, me, girl, me,
Form:
Rhyme
The-lit-wick-burnt-quick
I am the dipped stick
People are always referencing to
For two reasons:
One, is that I held on too long
Two, is because all but two fingers are gone
Lets look on the bright side, shall we...
I was a beautiful explosion!
A vibrant bouquet
Of summer flowers in bloom
Emanating from my hand
In offering to the night sky
There was an orange so serene
It could make the setting sun cry
At least I lost my pinky finger
And not my right eye
The potassium and iron oxide
That filled the firecracker's column
Made brilliant scores of violet and red
As visions of pyrotechnical plum ferries danced in my head
There was also a yellow that looked as if it escaped from dreams
Like a day lily in the morning that just busted its seams
This can be attributed to the explosive levels, of sodium
Which may of in turn resulted, with the loss of my thumb
Iron was unmistakably there creating a pure gold
The color of the ring a lost extremity used to hold
Copper sulfate was present creating the truest of blue
Five digits once stood where now there is two
Titanium, aluminum, or magnesium powders
Gave the finish a hurtful bright white
I may be giving a peace sign
But everything is not alright
6/9/16 - real late at night
Categories:
ferries, angst, color, firework, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
There’s a fire burning across the levee
I can smell the cypress and water oaks burning
The Indians are burning spirits tonight
A drive down River Road along the Mississippi
A fog bank
Memories of river crossings and ferries
I drift with the wood
Waiting to find a place to rest
The smoke from the fires brings shadows of death
Black and white and embers of souls lost to floods
The ground is fertile here
And I plant my soul
Upon this alluvial plain
Waiting for the water to cover me up
And then recede, giving me a chance for life
It has been recorded for centuries
The cycle goes on
Why can’t I lie in the fields and acquire the same
Lie here I must but nothing happenings
Am I not in convergence with earth and that entire circumference
I guess I am an imposter
Willing to spend the time but not the philosophy
And so I lay here spent by time and money
Nothing can bring me to you
Your spying eye is so keen.
And my mind is so dull to human feeling
Tis’ a shame for we could have lived so happily in perfect harmony
Now I must rise up and scream for latitude. It is not fair.
It will never be fair for I am stuck here in my class. Neither moving up or down.
Stuck forever in the primordial pond.
Categories:
ferries, body, bullying, character, courage,
Form:
Free verse
Girl talk, it's small talk.
We all love, the way that they sound.
A long beach, a long walk.
They're always there to be found.
A State Park.A Ferries Wheel.
We see the Merry-Go-Round.
The sandy beach, the city streets.
There's a girl in every town.
With girl talk, it's small talk.
We all love, the way that they sound.
A tasty drink, a girl in pink.
They look so nice, from head to toe.
With pretty eyes, a faint disguise.
We see the girls.We'd love to know.
An endless walk, we love to talk.
To the girls, we meet along the way.
Because girl talk, it's small talk.
We go from town to town.
Girl talk, it's small talk.
We all love, the way that they sound..
Girl Talk-Poem By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1986,2014..
ALL rights reserved..
Categories:
ferries, girl, society,
Form:
Ballad
At times I relent to the reflexes
The automatic knowledge of the peripheral nerves
Deftly guiding away from pain
Innately coded protection,
Gifted to all
That we don’t allow the conscious to override
Our cognition
What our atoms knows best
Every fiber of flesh protects the soul or should
From the ravages of love
A smart man once said, “Love will tear us apart”
Only fools listen and did not unhear.
Another man, though many scoffed at his unorthodox pulpit, once said:
“Fear is greater than love, remember that.”
I did not heed.
Which leads me to my reflexes delicately picking up a fork and looking at your photographic image through its tines.
A befitting admonition for your deeds. But a profession on my part that suggests I know your prison.
I do not.
The shinning silver and tinkling tines as it strikes the floor chimes and ferries my mind back to its own endless inventory, and for a split second I think: And what of the thing in each of us that drives us to madness.
Categories:
ferries, betrayal, love,
Form:
Free verse
Nature has gifted humanity with so many wonders to see
One of them striking our attention is the sea
Admire the turquoise waters created for mankind
For it has a soothing effect on the mind
Since ages the sea surrounds the land.
Flowing around the neck like a garland
The splashing of waves,low and high tides
And the production of foam all constitute a feast for the eyes
Lo! appreciate the sun kissing the horizon
It is setting for another mission
An important source of livelihood for fishermen
The sea feeds to a large extent the man
The extraction of corals, pearls and jewels
Allow the villagers to prosper and live well
An ancient and primitive means of transport
Boats, ferries, oil tankers,ships connect different ports
But through it sometimes God manifests His wrath
To remind those like Pharaoh who deviate from the right path
However, many have been engulfed in tsunamis
Which are beyond the control of our destiny.
.
Categories:
ferries, natural disasters, nature, ocean,
Form:
Rhyme
City Street Lights
Soft yellow eyes peek down cluttered alleys
sad candle like glow for dumpster diners.
Children hurry home at street light curfew
drawn to the aromatic kitchens glow.
Blue lights of limos cruise the downtown lanes
basking in the cold fluorescent neon,
glaring invitations to fine dining
precursor to the evenings rising tide.
Harbor ferries bob like Chinese lanterns
gentle beacons adrift on loving’s sea,
edged by arcing glow of throbbing city
ablaze against the crushing cone of night.
TARNDAI
John G. Lawless
Find the Puzzle – Poetry Contest
9/29/2014
Categories:
ferries, city, light,
Form:
Verse
Venice, Italy, is a crazy shamozzle of new and old
Where junk, graffiti, decay, stunning beauty,
history and culture poverty and opulence, all reside side by side, bobbing.
Water dominates the landscape, canals and waterways replace all the roads
Everything is carried by boat, food, people, garbage, produce, industrial supplies.
Ambulances, fire engines, delivery trucks and police cars are all replaced by boats.
The disorderly rusty ferries ply the waterways, jostling along with gondolas, magnificent polished wooden water taxis,
Occasionally the historic scene is ruined by modern fiber glass runabouts
with huge outboard motors completely out of place.
Next comes barges with cranes, garbage collecting boats, delivery and construction supply boats, and the many service vehicles.
Grab a table beside the canals and watch the parade of boats old and new jostle and bobble on by.
Walk through the tiny crowded streets and enjoy the kaleidoscope of people of many cultures enjoying themselves.
There are many surprises. Tiny shops with feet in large glass tanks being cleaner by fish.
Everywhere there are places to explore and things to enjoy.
Looming off in the distance you may see huge cruise liners dwarfing the buildings,
These vessels are seemingly populated by ants, as the ships are so big.
The ancient church bells in Venice chime as the ships depart arrive and depart, in homage to the new god of tourism.
The Palace art is simply overwhelming, overloading your senses.
Ancient art is everywhere and often ignored.
Venice is beautiful, but one gets the impression that all the photographs taken in Venice
are gradually sucking out the life force out of the structures, hastening their decay.
There are so many dimensions and experiences, places to explore that you never get tired of Venice.
The more times you visit the better you will like it and the more you will find to do and see.
You have to laugh and ignore the hassles, the jostling crowds, the regimented crowded ferry system,
the pushing and shoving of the crowds in the tiny streets,
simply laugh and have fun.
Venice is crazy, nice, with diverse multi-faceted attractions and lots of things to do.
You will love it!
Venice Trice is Nice.
Categories:
ferries, adventure, travel,
Form:
Free verse
Here’s your roaming reporter, the Average Joe,
Always reporting, always on the go.
I’m reporting today on the impending battle,
As state troops amass in the city of Seattle.
Much to the surprise of our neighbors up North,
The state of Washington is marching forth
To capture Vancouver Island and Victoria city
Because, being Canadian, she’s much too pretty.
“We’ll just extend the longitude in a straight line;
Gerrymandering is accomplished all of the time”,
Says the proud Governor of the Evergreen State,
Hoping the Mounties rally too late.
“Victoria, for Canada, is too far south
Sitting right dab in the middle of Puget Sound’s mouth,
To Washington state she rightfully belongs
And we shall take her with a rallying throng.
“British Columbia can find a new capitol city.
Vancouver, from the Olympics, everyone knows is so pretty.
Just give us Victoria without any fight
To keep peace between us, you know it’s just right.”
So off I now ride in this navy of ferries
On a surprise attack with a border to vary
Armed to the teeth with passport in hand
Which all of us need now to enter this land.
When next I am able to send a report to you
I’m hoping this seizure is successfully through
And Washington State will have Victoria to claim
As a city of her own, adding more to our fame.
Categories:
ferries, parodycity,
Form:
Quatrain