Best Harpoons Poems


Premium Member I shall find a way or make one

(Inveniam viam)

Far beyond these eerie things, where limits have no scales
Fish are replacing gills, with turbine aerated tails 
Sea level’s losing all meaning, for the humpback whales 
Ships piggyback them, harpoons syphon wind from their sails 

Today I woke up early, lately I’ve let dreams flow 
Into an abstract yonder, where visions often go
A wave came over me, up from my downy pillow 
When tidal forces passed away, many moons ago 

As the ocean waved goodbye, I called for an encore
Behaving like a poultice, the beach drew back old gore
You could’ve bowled me over, sent ripples to my core
Never again I’d sleep soundly, near this bloody shore 

After a fretful lie-on, facing truths with each turn 
My sundial running on empty, stars can’t always churn
Moribund in dimness, til an old spark can return 
Reigniting glory days, (let supernovae burn)

Overhead the vacuum grows, just to make more space 
Stretching my dysmorphia, to align with gods face
No one knows for certain, who enhanced his human race 
Gave an artful hand, outsmarting evolution’s pace 

As life spirals forward, in a world out of control 
Entropy dismantles, stripping back our maker’s role 
The poet in me keeps goofing, digging deeper holes
He’s a junkie rhymester, overdosing on this soul 

So hail all billionaires, who never walk down my street
Flying above fake cripples, with power in their feet
Prodigies of bad and worse, scheming to make ends meet 
Leaves an aftertaste of smugness, one that will repeat 

As for those big questions, some take a straightforward twist
Two things I thought might go away, stubbornly exist 
Not death or taxes, I’m already over that list 
Each day I arise, how come lies and bullsh!t persist?

First there was oblivion, til I woke up and saw 
Now fully awake, dead ahead looms a fatal flaw 
But so long as I can dream, and able to guffaw
It only hurts when I laugh, Don’t you think? vents my jaw 

By David Kavanagh 
Hms

Premium Member I Think Therefore I Am

I THINK THEREFORE I AM


"An ounce of hypocrisy is worth 
a pound of ambition" --Michael Korda

Liberty...
This everyone's want--
stretching an autonomy to unbuckle self-discovery

I got mites and bugs living in my head--
infesting my mind. They... daring a chance
to worm my guts and electrify my peace.
They adulterate seeking ways to emerge
from claws of doubts to grains of trust.
My veil of grace they bite and bite
devouring me 'til I set to pursue my act.

Should I repulse...
then spread my wings to fly?
or should I be a little puppet-- 
controlled, slave to strings attached to me?
or I'd rather choose a mask--
my gamble to earn sympathy or popularity;
my weapon sheltering my luck; 
my fall or my win?

Cogito ergo sum.
I think, therefore I am.

The mites and bugs in my skull blown 
from shocks infused by my firing drive.
My cavalry of Modesty, brave to rise
face the furnace of  battlegrounds.

Insincerity. Malingering. Pretension
are artillaries luring hypocrisy
but love, honesty and bravery:
the bombs I defy to conquer the trades.

If God is with me, who can be against me?

Standing like a Molave 
rooted evergreen, ever strong.
My face bulletproof 
to those who I believe wrong.
A standing soldier ready to offer her life 
to fraud and tyranny.

I refuse to be fed on standing lies.
The harpoons of verity, I battling dart,
raining towards the barbaric boxes as they...

They are my lioness roar, my freedom and my soar
piercing the pumping heart of those who eat innocence, 
I... dauntless!
_________________________________________________

** I think therefore I am is said by Rene Descartes
Romans 8:31-- If God is with us, who can be against us? 


O. E. Guillermo
10:43 pm, April 18, 2015

The Captain

The captain’s eyes glow ruby red
Atop the steamer’s deck –
A rusted tin can set adrift
By rough Atlantic crests

A crimson emblem sanctions
This whaler’s floating tomb –
A battered vessel bearing
Insignias of doom

Red ember sparks illuminate
The old man’s hickory pipe,
As he begins to scour the sea
For subtle signs of life

The radar soon shines fiery red,
And deckhands race to find
Their harpoons pointed straight ahead
At monsters in mid-dive

'There she blows!' the captain blares,
His face now beating red;
The hunt is on for him again,
And victory’s ahead

But as the scarlet sun moves west,
Black storm clouds open wide,
And though the weary crew protests,
He keeps the men in line

One well aimed shot is all he needs
To stain the ocean red,
But angry winds and beating rain
Show no signs of an end

The crimson hull begins to quake
As waves come crashing down,
And though the crew is mad with fright,
The captain only frowns

Then finally a sound rings sharp
Amid the roaring surf –
The red harpoon has found its mark:
A whale of massive girth

'We got her now!' the captain chimes,
His new prize bleeding red,
But with his words a rogue wave climbs
Ten feet above their heads

As they stare up with fear and awe,
They realize their fate –
Atop the blood-red steamer bow,
They know that it's too late

And though the crew and captain pray
For rescue from the squall,
The phantom wave of burgundy
Descends to drown them all.
© Nick Ruff  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Water Dragons

The roll of the waves hides the arcs of their backs.
The shoal of porpoises are feeding on squid.
Feasting amongst them on cephalopod snacks
Are green-scaled dragons that choose to be hid.

They hide from whalers and their brutal harpoons,
While they stay in the ocean for most of life's times,
Except times when they roam the nearby sand dunes
To covet Marsh Radishes and the wild limes.

These dragons don't fly, since they're aquatic sorts.
Like Nessie in Scotland, they wish to be free.
Some people catch a glimpse, and some hear a snort,
But rarely, since mostly they're way out to sea.

Tom and Jerry

Tom is a cat
And is big enough to hold a bat

Jerry is a mouse
It lives in a hole house

Jerry is so clever
He knows how to use his lever

When Tom sets a trap
He leaves a gap 

 When Tom takes a nap 
 Jerry sets a trap

Tom falls in it
but I think it is  the end of his wit 

He always makes up and never shares his cup
The chase begins and both never give up

Tom chases Jerry
Jerry is not very merry  

They are just cartoons 
And they teach us not to use harpoons

They always give us fun 
And show they have energy in ton 

Benedict(8 years)

Leviathan

Arrogant autocratic Ahab
Sails set seaward
Heartless harpoon high
 
Wind wracked Waves
Revenge rage regret
Wretched white whale
 
Opaque Ocean oblivious
Deep dark dangerous
Titanic terrors traversing
 
Captain callous cold
Blood bought bonds
Obsidian oaths ordured  
 
Foreboding fears fester
Sacrosanct silent seas
Motionless midst moonset
 
Dim daylight dawned
Spray shot skyward
Lithe Longboats launched
 
Barnacled Behemoth Breaching
Heartless harpoons hefted
Destruction death defeat
 
Ahab alone as Achilles did battle
Poised proud  purposeful in battle
Long lance light in hand for battle
 
White whale welcomes the battle
Dives deep deep to rise to the battle
Man monster meet to do battle


The sea is still, it has no tale to tell


Neatness

Everything was in the right place; the shoes, books, furniture, utensils, remote control…. His house always smelled of fresh air, although it was hundreds of miles away from the ocean.

“Your house smells like a beach-house!” his friends told him.

He knew his house was far from being called a beach-house. It had no fishing harpoons, fishing nets, scuba diving suits or shells. In fact, he hated the ocean.
 
Three years back, his perfectionism had landed him a job in an environmental movement company. A research lab was set for him close to the beach.

One Saturday morning, he saw a turtle floating close to him. It was still, its body dancing only to the motion of waves. BP oil spills and chemical wastes suddenly haunted his mind. He now saw oil rigs and floating marine animals all around him. Quickly he jumped out of the ocean as though he had spotted a shark’s dorsal fin, a dozen feet away.

“I’ll never stay around imperfection!” he swore to himself.

Neatness then became his pilgrimage. He took one last bottle of vodka to erase the memories about the ocean, and moved to live in a place not close to any water bodies.

Sometimes he eats fish and lobsters with difficulty. An imagination of a contaminated ocean close to him scares him stiff to hold his knife and fork.    



Current Contest Name: Take The Dagger From My Heart, Please - 2

Previous Contest Name: SHORT STORY

Date the Previous Contest was Finalized: 9/27/2016

Premium Member The Father Fulcrum

Fatherhood holds great pivotal power:			
To lift or let down, bringing laughter or frowns.		
Your words have potency, proven by deeds.		
Do what you promise and plant for renown.		
Be the hero, the parent your children need.		
Be more than you dreamed that a father could be.	
Be a fulcrum of joy, praise extravagantly!			

Fatherhood bears a life-changing might:
To give worth or debase, esteem or erase.
Your words are harpoons, or pillows of grace.
Listen intently, be still, SEE their face.
Be the dad that your children love to embrace.
Be more than you dreamed that a father could be.	
Be a fulcrum of grace, give extravagantly!	

Fatherhood sets generational ties:
To move up or down, the family tides.
Your words are their seeds of self-worth or shame.
Invest your best to build grooms and brides.
Be the man that shows them the worth of your name.
Be more than you dreamed that a father could be.	
Be a fulcrum of life, love extravagantly!
© Tom Valles  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Beneath Unknown Shores

Beneath Unknown Shores


                 Waves envelop the steel keel of a massive cruise liner
                 Off rails eyes hypnotized sense serenity on indigo bay
                 Cloudless sky beckons the sun for an endless summer
                 Islands perch on the horizon shaped like sculpted clay

                 Frenzied bodies traverse sundecks flaunting exaltation
                 To lips server hand exotic nectar full of alluring cheers
                 Above ivory keys dancing fingers exude determination
                 First time cruise explorers conquer psychological fears

                 Beneath unknown shores life meander above the sand
                 Seahorses cling to reeds evading rapid surging current
                 Green turtle Sargasso seagrass cuddle like contraband
                 Octopus amidst coral scampers survival reflex inherent

                 Apathy drown hushed grieving voices in troubled water
                 That breathtaking beauty of glowing vistas veils reality
                 Spirit of innocent whales menacing harpoons slaughter 
                 Toxic plastic float and drifts contaminating flawless sea 

                 Isolated world in need of crucial humanitarian concerns
                 Engaging altruistic minds in laborious ecological battles  
                 Guardian of the flame strongly affirm the blind discerns 
                 Fate digress evoking hearts to address ethical struggles 











09/10/2018
Aboard cruise liner: Vision of the Seas
                              Ibiza, Spain

City Life For the Masses

The loo enters during summers,
The chill penetrates in the winters
 
The ceiling leaks during monsoons,
The mosquitoes sting like harpoons
 
Came to the city with many dreams
From the lands of plains, valleys & streams
 
Came to the city, to earn a living, with wishes
The mirage of untold, unforeseen riches
 
(The City) Pulled them into its greedy claws,
Hiding it’s own weaknesses, it’s flaws
 
What have they become here, now?
Forced to make their heads bow,
 
As a driver, sweeper or domestic help
Confined to their lowly class, like a slave’s whelp
 
Ridiculed, raped, beaten, manipulated
Was it in their fate, to be cheated?
 
Were they not happy, in their valleys, their farms?
What drove them to the city, in great swarms?
 
Will they ever go back, escape?
Or will the city life forever hold them agape?
© Anon Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Whale Song

WHALE SONG

Here's a ballad of the Whale Song,
Translate and we'll all sing along,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

Here's an enormous whale,
Swimming the sea for his grail,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

There blows the great whale,
Harpoons we hope shall fail,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

That's our ballad of the whale,
Singing their aeons of tales,
Whales in the deep blue sea,
Fish tales for eternity.

Our Stone Age

Homes under trees
family in tents
refugees in forests
hunting of edible rats
cattle rustled away
harpoons to hook fish
wild humans eating
weak humans legally
clothing of rags 
thrown as gifts from sky
slave diggers in mines
tortured, underpaid
smuggled females
exploited as things of joy
jungle life at work
enhanced by jungle brains
by those in stone houses
this indeed is neo-stone age
Stone Age relived
Stone Age in promotion
Stone Age modified
and called civilization

Haiku

haiku

on moonlit ocean
whales dive into silver waves - 
exploding harpoons 
 
 
05-07-2018

Contest:       Haiga/Haiku  - Theme The Sea/Ocean 5-7-5
Sponsor:      Mick Talbot
Placement:   2nd

Love Like No Other For Elizabeth Wesley

Smoke bellowed out the top
Of the trawler’s ships
As the merciless hunters loaded
Their harpoons with exploding tips

“There she blows,” a sailor shouted 
It was a female whale that surfaced and spouted
The engines roared in hot pursuit
The Captain aiming ready to shoot
He shoots, it explodes, making a hole in her fin
She gasps her last breath as she can no longer swim

Her eyes expresses her agony and shock
Then close as she passes out and sinks like a rock
Divers plunge to secure their with ropes
But she is out of reach dashing their hopes

Then in the darkness she feels a thump 
Again and a again under her she feels the bump
Her eyes open drowsily to see him struggling to push her up
A male dolphin she identifies when he swims close up

Endangering his own life he will not go up for air
She must breath first as he is overwhelmed with her despair
What seemed an eternity she finally surfaces and takes a breath
The he surfaces satisfied they both cheated death

He swims gently supporting her wounded fin
Til they reach the shore of an island call Baralin
The water is warm and shallow enough 
For her to breath where the water’s not too rough

He swims out to sea where it’s warm in the south
And returns with plankton and kisses her transferring it from his to her mouth
Each time he does this, their feels grow strong
Of the love between a dolphin and a whale which will be remembered in loves folk song...


**For Elizabeth Wesley, Who wanted a poem of a dophin who falls in love with a 
whale**

Harpoons To Ready

I am a young man, to Nantucket I've traveled
never before have I been out to Sea,
here in the Harbor, I've spotted the Pequod
I knew then and there, that ship was for me,

Ishmael is my name,I was a Teacher
Queequed my friend, best harpooner on board,
the man they call Ahab, well he is the captain
you can bet he will see to it we're never bored,

Here! here! drink a toast to our Captain,
Hey mister fiddler, come play us a lick,
Here! Here! have your harpoons to ready
when we see the white whale that they call Moby Dick,

The captain's on deck, we can all hear him walkin
with his old wooden leg,thanks to one great White Whale,
he calls for attention, as he calls us to forward
he points to his leg, as he tells us the tale,

A fifty dollar gold piece, is nailed to the mainsail
for the harpooner, when the white whale he kills,
then the man in the crows nest , says yo I can see him
into the longboats where we test our skills,

Here! Here! drink a toast to our Captain
Hey mister fiddler, come play us a lick,
Here! Here! have your harpoons to ready
when we see the white whale that they call Moby Dick,

The Captain he is restless, and takes to a longboat
we had three harpoons in, he was pullin us slow,
when the eye of that whale, caught sight of the Captain
he came about and he started to roll,

He went straight for the longboat, that carried the skipper
locked in his eye, as he started to blow,
raised out of the water, near forty foot outward
down they both went, to Jones' locker below,

Here! Here! drink a toast to our Captain
Hey mister fiddler, come play us a lick,
Here! Here! have your Harpoons to Ready
when we see the White Whale, that they call....

                          Moby Dick!


copyright 2011 Rd Pickett

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