Best Gull Poems | Poetry
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Trump Had a Pet Gull
by Horn, James
Keg gull buoy
by harris, matthew
A LONE GULL
by WEISS, EARLE
by Craychee, William
by Wocky, Jabber
A song for the herring gull
by Radcliffe, Lily
by Stroh, Uwe
by ASHRAFI, SHAH JEHAN
free cee A DULL GULL
by cohan, jeffry
FREE CEE a dull gull
by cohan, jeffry
View all new Gull Poems
The Best Gull Poems
Melodies of magical wind chimes
Carry me back to such blissful times
Hand-in-hand we planned for a long life
Dreams to share as you made me your wife
When a summer breeze rides on the seas
I still hear your voice and I’m at ease
Now I wander the shoreline alone
A child left behind by fate’s cyclone
As I stroke fallen plumes from a gull
I’m beset by memories to mull
Thoughts of warm nights we fished from the pier
Wrap my soul like a blanket so sheer
I’m transformed to the girl I was then
And, Sweetheart, I’m loving you again
When a summer breeze rides on the seas
I still hear your voice and I’m at ease
I’ve been lonely today so I’ll go
Where a summer breeze is sure to blow
Sitting on sand, I’ll set a new goal
To fill the void and make myself whole
If only I can open my heart
To a man whose loss won’t tear me apart
Just a tender embrace at day’s end
You were my love; he’ll just be my friend
When a summer breeze rides on the seas
I still hear your voice and I’m at ease
Transform me to the girl I was when
You let me love you again and again
*August 3, 2018.
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2018
In the cool shade of poetry
I would approach the old tree
That in a lively blossom
Some of which, deep red and blue
Would cast shadow on my rice and bread
Would shake my chromosome, a little,
In my pages so brittle now
The fragrance and forms I would pick up
Yes, of those flowers
Of the intellectual hours
And gather them
I mean the rhythm and the metaphor
The stars of the seer and philosopher
The poet and the scholar
Would gather them
On the water of my small bowl
Of my reflective thoughts and contemplation
In moments of subtle sublimation
A colorful crystallization
The tree is really rich and lovely
Sometimes bubbly sometimes melancholy
It is over a month since
It has no more been bringing out
No cloud and light mixed sprout
Of the lyrics of blossom
To gather and store
For our core
For our sea gull soar
On inquiry a friend told me
An arm has got injured
And the spirit unsure
To sap the resources of the soil
To uncoil from it
The flowers of spirit
A book is missing
From my bookcase
A moon from my dream
Like the crows we cannot scream
Still we wish a quick return
From the infirm arm
That, as we learn
Has kept the blooms
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017
To their government Utah is true -
Not just state, but the federal too,
and so with great pride
they display on each side
of their flag the old Red, White and Blue.
Also famous for their industry,
Utah honors the cute bumble bee,
of which I now brag.
Center stage on their flag
is the hive of the bee….. naturally!
On Utah’s state flag is an eagle -
The symbol of peace, it is regal!
Pioneers, though, preferred,
a more interesting bird.
Why not on the flag is a seagull?
Most Utahans should know the story.
Long ago, crickets tried to destroy
the crops, till each gull
in Salt Lake ate them all!
That bald eagle has stolen gull’s glory!
Now a monument in Salt lake stands
for the sea gull, and isn’t it grand
that a bird that should be
living nearby the sea
is in love with a dry desert land!
Written by Andrea Dieitrich
July 22, 2015 for the contest of Judy Konos
NOTE: Came back here to say it's Pioneer Day (July 24). Utah is the only state to celebrate it. I can hear fireworks outside my house!!
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2015
The days go by
And you go on,
A lonely migrant on your shore…
The air is clear,
The water, calm,
What is it you are searching for?
The sun is bright,
The sea gulls sing,
Their sweet music eludes your ears.
For deep within
You hear your tune,
A symphony of dread and tears.
We know not why
Your heart is sad
When such joy all around you sings.
You say you long
To make your way
To chase those dreams with golden wings.
But you should know,
Dreams come and go
Above your barren, narrow beach,
Where the sun is bright
Where the sea gull sings—
Although no sight of golden wings—
True dreams are just within your reach.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
Contest: Just Within Reach
Sponsor: John Lawless
Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2015
Prayer Cried Out In The Storming Waves
Fought the waves, the maddened tumbling sea
doomed ship sinking swiftly beneath me
Prayers to God,to every saint I ever knew
no desire to reside beneath this ocean blue
Midnight's stormy fury soon moved past
ship gone, me clinging to a broken mast
Fear, the kind that eats into your soul
rebuked my every hopeful, impossible goal
Prayers renewed with sad desperate pleas
Lord, let me survive these angry seas
The waves beat me about with great delight
I am tired, give me strength to fight
Master,find all the good that rests in me
save me, to do all that you may please
Prayer ended, my legs and arms do so tire
as the last ember was burning in my fire
Hope raced forth in a bright shining light
dawn broke forth from that darkest night
The rays hit me with a soft, sweet breeze
so calm,so very calm my soul was at ease
A single gull flew over my bobbing head
Hope cried out,you live,you are not dead
Land must now be very close hereabouts
So tired but that did not stop my shouts
Thank you Lord,this gift I will never forget
I believe,even though I am not home yet
A rescue ship's horn was soon blasting away
saved I'd be on this fine glorious day
Soon I was safe, safe on board her deck
I knew then faith and prayer saved my neck
Captain said, saw your flare just before dawn
thats when we raced and really poured it on
I was so confused and my mind it did so stun
I had no lifesaving flares and no flare gun!
Robert J. Lindley, 05-24-2015
Note: Was it a dream, my memory tells me I lived it.
In another life so long ago.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
A lone gull,
pecked and pecked
at flecks of snow on the ground -
a curious delight this February day,
but what could be found
in nature's freshly poured flakes
to sate the bird's appetite?
She turned and soared away on wings of grey.
By Andrea Dietrich/ Motif is Nature
For "the Impress me with a small poem! (New / Old)" Poetry Contest
of Giorgio A. V.
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014
Step by step
Flirt by flirt
Dance by dance
The sky advanced
Slant and twirl
In eye curl
Wild sea gull
Smile by smile
Into the Nile
Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2016
I fly with the gull
And breathe the color of salt
Hear the surf's repeating song
I came this way long ago
And return to find my path
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2013
Surely, no concept of Heaven, compares in object to this,
The gift of fair winds and following seas, a taste of Calypso's kiss ...
That sweet spray of briny bliss ...
Sprites demi-détourné on wave-tops, a million gold coins that shine,
Spilling from heaven's coffers, to dance in these eyes of mine ...
A shimmering waltz, divine ...
Such kinship I feel with the heavens, when cutting wakes with a keel,
Closest to all Creation, and amidst what I count as real ...
No words can express how I feel ...
To slip between the rolling swells, and part the crests like time,
A whimsical wonder within me, like a child composing rhyme ...
An alluring adventure, sublime ...
A bell-buoy nods its red noggin, while clanging a lonely song,
And a grumpy old gull teases the hull, laughing to prove me wrong ...
Yes, here is where salties belong ...
Well, if I could choose my undoing, I'd dream my last breath to be
Filled with a sigh of sea foam, footloose and fancy-free ...
And forever a part of the sea ...
So when I'm old and lubbing land, and darkness comes to creep,
Please turn my bones to ashes, and cede me to the deep ...
For it's there I wish to sleep ...
The sea ... my soul to keep.
Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017
Among the cries of lonesome gull
A crude cross-slash, grinning skull
Below the tattered crimson sail
Those that did weather the fiercest gale
Noblemen fearfully bow
Seamen kneel before its prow
Quiver before the pirate`s might
A vision of ivory, dark as night
We slowly conquer waves of teal
All eyes follow the steady keel
The ebony ship, its purpose grim
The treasure hoard hidden within
Like a glittering blade, swift and sure
Cursed to never dock at shore
Remembered in forgotten lore
Not even the bravest Mortal knave
Shall escape the wrath of the grave
So we sail forever-more
Copyright © Gabriela Fleury | Year Posted 2005
Murky sea this day as she wades chest deep
Battling strong waves with every step
No other swimmers, no lifeguards, no sun
Nary a gull on the beach so windswept
Solitude is her preference, she floats
Closes her eyes, attempts to clear her head
She’s tossed about, but opts to remain
She’d rather be here than alone in bed
Suddenly she feels a slippery nudge
To her feet she slips, scans surrounding sea
No life in sight, but she’s drifted out far
Her heart pumps fast, she swims feverishly
Another bump! Is this her worst nightmare?
Sea creature preying ‘neath turbulent surf?
White caps surround and her cries reach no ears
A painful sting, she’s p
For Gareth's "Leave Me Hanging" challenge
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2010
Here’s a bold tale it will have you in titters
It’s about poor Sheila who lost her knickers
She went for a cruise upon the great ocean
Fell in the water with the boats sudden motion.
She swallowed some water and began to cough
A big wave engulfed her and tore her knickers off
A passing gull dived and took them in its beak
Poor Sheila cried out, “oh what a damn cheek”.
The fog horn sounded and the ship it slowed down
Everyone was worried that poor Sheila would drown
Someone said “it’s a shame for the poor young lass”
Sheila was more worried that they’d see her bare ***.
A lifeboat was launched to rescue poor Sheila
But as she was hauled in they could see her posterior
Cameras were clicking aimed at her anatomy
Soon would be online for the entire world to see.
Always make sure your elastic is tight
Or like poor Sheila, lose them you might
Poor Sheila is still struggling to live it down
Still gets wolf whistled when she goes into town.
“I will not be cruising for quite a long while
I’ve bought some new knickers” she said with a smile.
On the side of a cliff there is a gull’s nest
That is lined with silk knickers of quality the best.
Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018
She sat on a wooden pier in a yoga pose,
Staring at a wide expanse of stormy bay.
Salty foamy billows disturbed her not.
A gull glided down, seeking some fish.
She felt elated, full of bliss.
No one disturbed her deep thoughts.
A warm breeze caressed her.
At last she stood up
And with one move
Jumped in the
16 April 2018
A MELTING SNOWBALL - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier
Syllabled decrease from 12 to 1
Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2018
Everyone has to learn...
To be a gull
It will be your turn
In a sky...
Upwards I flew....
To meet you
For, in us all
Is a Jonathan Livingston
In me and in you
It is the spirit that takes us all...
Reaching new heights
We all dream
Some chose to be....
Gulls on the sea
This is me....
As I sit, watching the going down of the sun
The gulls swoop and turn
I savour the thought
Can I become....
One of those...
Who fly until the day is done
I will come as a gull
Fly over the sea
Swoop and turn with glee
What it is to be free
One day it will be
Copyright © Matthew Brackley | Year Posted 2006
within Zieglerville, pennsylvania
genuine snow white hair
upon her noggin doth adorn,
perhaps she will divulge to me (in private)
after i croon (to said lass),
the melody of Jimmy Crack Corn
hmm...or, maybe this mission
perchance twill be doomed from the start,
and hence finding me forlorn
thenceforth, a backup contingency measure,
would warrant me to don my thinking cap,
and for extra ordinary reinforcement unfold
each Taj Mahal shaped ear flap
plus (for reinforced ironic steeliness),
aye also resort to buttress
any aural "stormy Dani yelling)
via walled in interlap,
which accouterment functions
as a double agent i.e. (or,
to be rather crude),
an audiological jockstrap
to vet or figuratively kneecap
any unwanted infiltrating leaping lap
ping "FAKE" distracting news
mass media circus
driving this generic teetotaler
to pour himself a nightcap
essentially providing wig gull room
with very little margin of ear err, or overlap
against bigwigs to trumpet pap
pill low ma rendered free and clear
asper insidious (mama mia) paparazzi
charting imp pea ching fear
bringing out bare arms
most likely something internuclear
simply to discover visa vis authenticity
if cute employee
white as the virgin snow),
which doth simmer and glare
blindingly, thus necessitating sunglasses
(I choose the Ray-Ban brand)
as recommended by cited
all time favorite pharmacist
who unwittingly (or simply because
my myopic eyes didst stare)
fixedly - drawn to such a darling (doll ling)
explaining any reason to go THERE
to CVS - that tis where.
Copyright © matthew harris | Year Posted 2018
To see him - just to see him -the impetus of my desire.
To gaze upon the long gold silken locks
that adorn his pefectly shaped head!
Transfixed, I watch his elegantly slender body
moving lusciously on his dance floor,
his arm around the waspy waist of his current woman.
With vicarious pleasure, I see myself as her,
imagining the feel of his hands along my hips
as we sway to the music’s sensuous rhythm.
Oh, to be so close as to breathe the scent of his cologne,
and as the music slows . . .to savor that moment
as he presses his cheek next to mine.
How I would exult in being that woman he is holding In his arms.
He sees me, but he looks right through me,
for I am but the lowly employee of a catering company.
The chasm between me and him is as large as an ocean.
I imagine he sees me as a lowly gull
hovering on the horizon of his vision
amidst the other lowly seagulls who like me,
go back to their small houses
feeling like scavengers after their night of service,
taking with them the leftover food he gives away to us.
I leave the opulence of his mansion, returning to my studio apartment,
knowing my revelry remains a mockery.
*Forgetting the line limit, I had removed a few lines, one containing the word "opulence" so now the word has been placed back into the poem.
Aug. 31, 2018 for John Hamilton's Eight Word Challenge-8 Poetry Contest
Words that were to be used: 1. Silken 2. Chasm 3. Exult 4. Adorn 5. Impetus 6. Mockery 7. Opulence 8. Vicarious
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2018
Note: Shakespeare's words are bolded.
I hate you with perfect hatred.
You’re the father of all lies;
the absolute embodiment
of everything I despise.
Thoroughly I’m convinced.
I’m a bona fide believer.
My words will not be minced.
You’re a charlatan, the worst deceiver.
I can’t be scathing enough, I fear,
so I call on a voice from the past.
Do you remember a bard by the name of Shakespeare?
He’s about to give you a blast.
Thou droning base-court clack-dish.
Thou wayward elf-skinned scut.
That we’d be better strangers is my wish
as to to chase I cut.
O Gull! O Dolt! As ignorant as dirt,
canker blossom, quintessence of dust,
I truly hope my words do hurt.
They will. I fully trust.
Thy tongue outvenoms all the worms of Nile.
You are as a candle, the better burnt out,
incessant n’er do well, so vile.
Thou yeasty beef witted lout.
Anointed cherub in heaven were you
till your heart was lifted up in pride.
God kicked you down to the earth, yes it’s true
on the very first drop zone-like ride.
You became the prince of the power of the air
and set out to hoodwink mankind.
Daily it is your wicked prayer
that humans stay spiritually blind.
I feel for you such abhorrent disgust.
I wish you the worst of ill will.
Defer to my dear writing partner, I must.
Go ahead. Take it away, Bill!
There’s no more faith in thee than in a stewed prune,
wither’d like an old apple-john.
Thou brazen lily livered cream faced loon.
methinks thou personifies con.
Mountain of mad flesh, light of brain,
Thou jarring milk-livered codpiece.
Of your crusty batch of nature, I do complain
Your foolish wit, O will it never cease?
Out you baggage! You tallow face!
Out of my sight! Thou dost infect my eyes.
Thou haughty onion-eyed, peevish disgrace.
Thou speakest false. Sick am I of thy lies.
Yes, you’ve wreaked havoc on the earth,
but your disinformative dupery will end.
You’ll come to rue the day of your birth.
None, your dark hide will defend.
I now remind you what’s in the back of the Book,
since God’s Word you have chosen to ignore.
Let your cowardly eyes just take a look
at where you’ll be landing forevermore.
Your rebellious form will be cast down,
and the beguilement business expire.
Many will look narrowly with approving frown
as your thrown into red lake of fire.
Copyright © Carol Connell | Year Posted 2018
Never once have I been enclosed in exhaustion
Until now - like a black woolen blanket, drenched.
I've looked and crawled and even found unceasingly
Before screaming from the riverbank: "This Is What It's For."
But now I can hardly whisper,
Sensing, maybe, a changing tide that sends the fish away
Or remembering past moons that moved them to more fertile feasts.
Yes - both it must be.
For now the water's meandering isn't hopeful wanderlust;
It only serves to annoy me.
And is it me or has its flow slowed?
Although now more than ever I note its swiftness
In comparison with the glassy new-born lake
Or the black curmudgeonly seas.
The gulls still call but no longer in triumph.
It seems it's morphed into a dirge
Though their wings still hang a crisp angel white in the sky.
Gliding, though again more slowly,
Before snatching a fish with ease;
Now it's mockery in their squawking.
Trudging through muddy waters,
I feel more akin to washed up wood
And the log floating on
Than to the swift fishermen
Across the river.
I sit and listen to their songs
Carried by the soft wind,
Encompassing the gull and my own fragile breath
(A song of a son lost at sea and I can't find where to put my hands).
I taste their hope in the sand and the sun
And it oozes from my eyes.
Copyright © Matt Fergoda | Year Posted 2014
My friends at poetrysoup
Keep pushing me on
I stop to take a deep breath
And Daniel Larson might say "What's next"
I'll write about a bird, a sea gull
Circling our Wyoming earth
Vince Suzadail Jr. might comment
"Come on you can do better than that"
Alright the buffalo outside my door
John Loving III might say
"Him again "
"We've heard of him before"
I'll write about my rocks
And Carol Brown might say
"Come on give us something
To knock our sox off"
Bob Hinton said, "Best to you"
But wait were those the words
Or was it
"At least try to do your best"
Karen O'Leary said, "I Missed you
Hope you had a wonderful holiday and_"
Here I held my ears,
I didn't want to disappoint her, and I wiped my tears.
Mike Falatico, Jimbo Goff
Christie Mills and Earl Brown too
They all work so hard
And I talk about the zoo
I love you all, You are my family and friends
Or I would never have tried to write
This silly little poem
And not worry about being sued
But your encouragement
Helps to move me on
Without your honest words
I'd not get any enjoyment from my works.
I really do get encouragement from your comments.
And I try to do my best to help keep our poetrysoup family
strong. Thanks for all your help. God Bless, Cile
Copyright © Marycile Beer | Year Posted 2010
salt scented sand, green seaweed laced,
tumbled by surf and white gull paced,
pleasantly blessed long seaside day
when warm breezes waltz with bright, gay
I drink pungent scents standing near
where turquoise wears sea foam veneer,
Copyright, November 16, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
THREE OUTDOOR SCENES
frog pond mallards
on the grassy, shallow bank
table with peanuts
round and round the tree he goes
caw, caw cries high crow
reading by the sea
this boy sitting on a rock
gull catches the breeze
Copyright © daver austin | Year Posted 2014
"He murders and then walks in the funeral procession."
You ask me why the tears
Why the sad face
And inside I laugh
At your gull in asking
When you know full well
You are a murderer
You walk in the funeral profession of my heart
Wailing and mourning
Dressed in black
Crying tears made of glass
shattering as it hits the ground
Only I hear
You eulogize me
Speaking of my wonderful traits
What made me the beautiful woman
Everyone loved and wanted to be with
Everyone but you
Everyone but YOU saw my real beauty
The crimson glory of my robe
The scent of my being
YOU saw the thorn
You call me a rose
You ask me why I weep
You ask me why I mourn
You murdered my heart
Yet you walk in the funeral procession
The last laugh is on you
For after 3 days
I will rise again
I need to rest in this tomb
Before I see the light of day
Before I awake to newness of life
You will not be there
My resurrection day.
Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014
He ventured from out of the west
In a small cabin amidships:
Stole away in an unknown quest,
Salty ocean brine wet on his lips
In the concealment of dim twilight
Neptune braced his trident,
And offered safe passage in the night
When stormy seas grew more violent
Into locks and narrow canal tide
Ocean to ocean Panama led:
Two continents yonder either side,
"No turning back now" a voice said
Starboard to port - stern to bow -
The turbines below decks on:
He'd be back someday, somehow,
But alas, not for a long time gone
Blinding rain cracked the dark sky,
And heat of hurricane wind:
Out from beyond shadows slip by
In the playground of the dolphin
Sped over vast nautical canyons
Deep into southern latitudes:
Lifeboat drills required all hands
Lest he sail a sea of vicissitudes
As a cool morning breeze rolled in
He'd hear that droning hull:
Feel the shift of the sea in motion
And watch the albatross and gull
On his maiden voyage went he far
Into the Tasman a sea rover:
No longer shone the Northern Star
But soon the journey would be over
Natives in canoes off Tahiti - sellin'
Beads and cloths finely sewn:
Like Columbus, Cortez, and Magellan
In foreign lands not unlike his own
"Last port of call" they shouted loud
Down gangway's shiny gloss:
Ahoy! Land of the Long White Cloud -
Farewell good ship SS Southern Cross
From Port of Spain, Trinidad
To Auckland, New Zealand: Dec 1968
Copyright © Keith Trestrail | Year Posted 2014
One legged swaying
Stiff breeze chills
Soldier crabs scurry
Copyright © Uwe Stroh | Year Posted 2015
There are times in my life, in my soul, that the sea
calls and I must answer. I need to see the horizon
fade into the blue, hear the sounds of the surf
and the cry of the gull. There is a connection there,
forged, I think, in the time of creation. With my
feet in the surf I feel a sense of peace, as if
somehow I’ve come home. Home to the whale’s
spout, the salt on my tongue, the knowledge that
I am part of something bigger than can be known.
There are times in my life, in my soul, that the
sea calls and I must answer....
Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2016