Best Jetty Poems
REVISED OCTOBER 16, 2019
New Jersey’s cloven-hoofed devil
makes his way to the jetty
beneath the blanket of twinkling stars, anguish unabated
his appetency growing stronger each day
her song rose like mist upon salty tide
creating an irresistible allure
perhaps a mermaid so fair
can be the auspicious boon he badly needs
he calls to her, certain she will listen again
as she has done so many nights before
his soul’s torment she has learned to alleviate
patiently, she clings to one boulder, waiting
for she alone can absolve him of past misdeeds
she motions for him to draw near
“Kiss me now,” she begs,
“Before anything more can go awry.”
he moves toward her, still in atrocious devil form
holding fast to the rocks as a storm approaches
perhaps this time their magical kiss
will forever end his loneliness
October 14, 2019
For John Hamilton’s “Crazy A’s” Poetry Contest
The New Jersey Historical Society provided information about the New Jersey Devil and the mermaid he is said to connect with each night by the shore.
A light wind gently rocks our sailboat as
breezes begin to pick up on the sun drenched dock.
Cable wires rap and tap upon the mast as
daylight filters thinly through the clouds.
Egrets begin to peck around the gangway
foraging for scraps from bugs or grubs.
Great blue heron busily prepares her nest
high upon the eucalyptus tree.
I sit and daydream on the harbor deck
just enjoying the sea breeze, sights and sounds.
Kelp beds sway rhythmically with the currents
lapping the rocks at low tide, while
massive flocks of birds perch purposefully
near a lonely lighthouse high on the jetty.
Open seas spread toward the horizon where
pelicans busily dive bomb for fish.
Quarry rocks surrounding the harbor create
rocky protrusions, allowing ground squirrels to
spy sailors earnestly jibing on ocean water
tacking swiftly through the northwest winds.
Under the pylons and gangways
various starfish and mussels cling
with schools of fish swimming in tandem.
Xylophone sounds drift with music from a
Yacht club hosting a spring concert.
Zeal for the beauty of harbor life moves me.
Written on 2/11/2015
I can remember,
Those warm sunny days,
As we sat on the beach,
Watching wave after wave.
Seeing the sea grass wave,
In the warm summer breeze,
Droplets of water land on my face,
As we sat on the beach watching the sea.
We walked for miles collecting hundreds of shells,
Carefully climbing the jetty,
The clean sea air is all you can smell.
We hoisted the sail on our small sailboat,
With only one big gust of wind,
We were no longer afloat.
We woke at dawn,
to spend our day on the bay,
Fisherman we were,
Even if only for one day.
All those happy memories,
Etched deep in my mind,
Will remain forever,
By the best dad of all time.
Moving ridges - blue, green salty de-bree
Lightly, sweep the beach;
As inland rolls the sea
All species, shapes shells' species,
Tumble to shore, scoured by wind, by sand
Frothed, hi-lo crests, toss, create odd creases
Ocean sounds, subdued to loud
Galaxies twinkling, twinkling, over sandy shore
Moving ridges - blue, green, salty de-bree
Limicoline birds probe of tiny beaks
Cerripedes cling - of rock jetty walls
Tumble to shore, scoured by wind, by sand
Dephinidae family-play, chirrups avow
Perceived near silted edge
As inland rolls the sea
Blessed - this Shangri-la
Peace, quiet soul
Creation, presented us
Euphony, miles around
Tunes linger over moist earth
Moving ridges - blue, green salty de-bree
Humility - our
Ever-so-ever thankful
Peace, quiet soul
Waves' tumble, night does endow
Loose sand - wet clay
As inland rolls the sea
Visons 'cross vast waters
Ruffles of promise dapple there
Ever-so-ever thankful
Righteous melodies heard
Moon casts it's shadow
Moving ridges - blue, green salty de-bree
As inland rolls the sea
Placidity drowns fears
All shells, shapes, species
Ruffles of promise dapple there
Frothed, hi-lo white caps, toss, creates odd creases
By Carolyn Devonshire
casting my line from a rock jetty
sad, high-pitch cry I hear
glance around, see no one
cast again but the cry echoes
as if reverberating in the rocks
fishing pole I lay down
now searching every crevice
suddenly a wee feline springs forth
mewing alone atop the stone
from where she emerged, I look down
a litter of six cradled by their mama
so thin the mother cat appears
no food nearby and tears fill my eyes
return to my cooler, retrieving three trout
place them in the cranny
mama cat meows softly
no thanks were needed
feeding frenzy begins for the kittens
mama cat remains still, but purrs
providing nourishment for her clan
more important than feeding herself
wish the brotherhood of man could learn from mama cat
cries of hunger go unheard
*Entry for Michael’s “Sounds of a Cry” contest
Based on a true experience
With my fishing vest and waders, and a found long wooden staff
I walked along the jetty, on a rock-piled curvy path
The day had grown to darkness, with no light there to be found
When something unknown had startled me, when it made a screeching sound
Afraid of it, I started walking fast, almost in run-mode pace
Scared to death, and loss of breadth, and whiteness on my face
For every step that I had taken, this thing had taken one too
So scared of it, I was, it almost made me poo
A nest of string all full of weeds, I had to laugh a hoot
To find out it was a fishing line, that was wrapped around my boot
It must have clung onto my boots, when the ocean ebbed low tide
So, I had a breath to breathe, and I laughed like hell...inside
A Funny Memories Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Natasha L Scragg
1/12/22
The salt water
baubles washes
gently
upon the jetty sent
from lands distant.
Pushed by a hovering
yellow moon,
sometimes built into
thunderous waves
of hurricanes.
Change comes rapidly
and dangerously
as the sea meets
yesterday coming
back.
It speaks to me and
it does say,
I give no quarter
and furthermore
I ask
for none.
As I stare outward
at the placid waters
I feel heaviness
deep inside my
chest.
The sea has become
humanity to me,
With its powerful
and hushed rage,
not seen before.
Heretofore I have
been persuaded
by wanderlust to
skim the surface,
to walk on by time
without end,
miss nothing that
may be something.
I linger here.
The moon is playing
peek-a-boo,
reflection on the
water seems sad.
Stories are to be
told, perchance
to a much lesser
degree of now.
But
not yet.
Ink-black dark, I
cannot see;
even Luna appears
quite uneasy.
The peaceful lapping
of water
distresses me; I
don't know why.
Devouring soul?
So tranquil you
could hear a
tear drop, or a
salamander fart.
My nose detects an
exotic odor
Arabian sand carried
by wind.
Wind
words.
I squat on the rock
jetty,
look for ghosts;
probe my own.
My intimate séance
annoys
what I have kept
concealed..
I see what I see.
The serene sea is a
patient anomaly,
so serene I fear
there are things
unsaid.
The night bitter
black when moon
hides,
I sense an
oppressing evil
attributed
to dreams.
Santa’s on his surfboard
It’s Christmas time again
He’s comin’ round the jetty
And just now cleared the bend
Santa’s loves his surfboard
He’s practicing his moves
To balance all those presents
On the list that he approves
To be a beach time Santa
Requires lots of skill
You see, it’s not just chimneys
That old Santa likes to fill
So leave your milk and cookies
On the blanket in the sand
And you might see Surfing Santa
Hanging ten all plump and tanned
Good earth styles
Fine ample grass;
A fine raiment
Sun and rain speak
Splurge fond refrain;
Rainbows echo
Dawn flings
Shadows drowned;
Awake to birdsong
Man-made park
Forest architecture;
In the city
Journey here
Begin within;
Greet the sea shore
Waves splashing
Jetty promenade;
Fishing trip moments
Offshore boat ride
Temple pilgrimage;
Kusu Island awaits
By temple hall
Ancestral tablets;
Silence mitigates
Sunday church service
Congregation sings;
Amen to that
Buddhist mantra
Chanting meditation;
Mindfully aware
God's children come
Kingdom awaits;
Barter for bread
Hindu yogi
Beyond samsara;
Lotus posture
Muslim Renaissance
Faith revival;
Touch of grace
Sufi thinker
Austere profoundness;
Lessons to learn
Taoist philosophy
Yin-Yang address;
Harmony presides
Christian theology
Heaven and Hell;
Symbols and signs
Jewish piety
Despite persecution;
People of God
God wears
Many hats;
Each a religion
Wise men tell
From all faiths:
God is Love
Men of Science
Men of God;
Bridge the gap
Go beyond faith
Rest in stillness;
Walk the middle way
God's children
Need love and light;
Stern compassion works
A wise man said:
Live and let live;
Do not shed blood
Keep your faith,
Love all colours;
See human rainbows
Leon Enriquez
05 August 2014
Singapore
The Morning Speaks With Skylarks Singing
....inspired by 'Poem in October' by Dylan Thomas
The morning speaks with skylarks singing
o'er the greening meadows and the pliant pasture,
crisp and clear, like God's first measure of
a holy hymn.
The air alive with
songs of praise, the gentle winds a sacred message,
the ocean sighing, gulls aloft on wings of prayer.
His grand prescription,
like a dream
that streams out from the pillows of the heavens.
I liked to wander by the sea shore,
skipping stones, disobeying laws of gravity.
A sudden shower would see me running
fancy free,
between the rain drops,
I cried 'Excelsior!' and set the hills alive;
I skittered, happy as a lamb on shaky legs
and tumbled freely,
without care,
'til gasping, I would stop to catch my breath.
The halcyon days of youth came true,
when I would race forever 'neath the tawny sun,
bedaubed in Autumn blood,
the flame,
a blend of hues
the likes of which would make a young boy doubly blind,
and lead him into kingdoms where the battlefields
would blister scarlet,
happy times
that made me see my childhood clearly.
The weather turned again, and shanties
high atop the hillside loomed like castles drifting
in the sea-blown mist, the noise of boats,
their nets pulled,
nudging at the jetty.
From the sand the village was a hazy spectre,
the chapel steeple peeking like Rapunzel's lair,
her hair a daydream
falling soft,
O fanciful imagination!
Miss Ocean wears her blue-green dress,
Sprinkled with tiny crystals beads
That sparkle in the morning sun.
She shakes her ruffled petticoats of white
And shows off for the passers-by.
She dances on the jetty rocks
With seaweed hair that streams behind
Before she dips her head again
And swims far out to greater depths
To play with dolphins, whales, and fish
And mermaids in their hidden lairs.
She sweeps the ocean floor and brings
Her treasures to the sandy shore,
A trove of scallops, slipper shells and
Mussels clinging tightly to the kelp.
Empty conch shells, pink and clean,
Pearly stones and worn green glass.
Miss Ocean wears her blue-green dress
Embroidered with tiny crystal beads.
They sparkle in the morning sun.
Sat by the jetty overlooking the waters
of Tombia
Waves and ripples as boats drive
pass speedily
Passengers and luggage alike all
disembarking
All by the Tombia waterside in the
riverine Rivers
Free from the hustles and bustles bedevilling
Port Harcourt
The mayhem and chaos in the Oil city all left
behind in the city
Yet such serenity by the waters of Tombia
Piece, quiet and tranquility quieten my
stress
Trying to be patient, but my patience is
running riot
Trying to stay and remain calm by the waters
of Tombia.
Roasted peppered fish and plantains my
consolation.
All by the waterside of Tombia.
There was a large cat from Llanelli
Who was terribly fond of spaghetti
One day out of menace
He travelled to Venice
Where he dined in the sun on a jetty.
I want to say something, it is buried beneath layers
Layers, layers of pain’t, layers of different colours.
Reds for the times I’ve bled, blue for the times I flew,
Carried by the wind over valleys of green, stone grey mountains,
Silvery seas, white-feathered wings tickled by the breeze.
You say you tease
I want to say to you, I see your colours too
Your reds, yellows and blues, perhaps even
The shades you hide, the ones where my finger begins to scratch
The surface, just a little. I hope I don’t break a nail!
I smile as the colours chip, revealing a tender bit,
You say you tease
My favourite colours are: green; the green that’s underneath
The old boat jetty by the lake, when the sun shines through,
Blue; my eyes are green yours are blue, the mixture of the two
Red; yes definitely the red of a fresh drop of blood from being stung by
The roses you will send me when you begin to fall for me.
You say you tease
As your colours emerge, I wonder will I see colours that are layered upon me.
Perhaps shades of the same, there are 120 different shades of white
A spectrum in which we shall find some commonality
I am willing to explore and so therefore I ask you
Please don’t tease me anymore.
Amber-brown sea oats stand tall -
whistling as ocean breezes gently
blow them in unchartered directions
Voluminous waves impact into jetty rocks
inducing sea urchins to lose their tight grip
from a place of safeness
Watercraft rock recklessly in
turbulent waters. Fishing lines
snap as hopes of a good day's
catch are quickly diminished,
while winds grow intensly
& skies darken to an eerie black
Fears of a possible funnel cloud
now begin to form in reality
Anchors are regained as boat captains'
gear themselves towards safety upon
these waters, aspiring towards
safer havens as ferocity passes
As quickly as darkness has appeared,
radiant rays of sunlight penetrate greyness
of clouds, cutting into glistening waters
like a silver bladed knife cuts thru many
layers of a wedding cake
Life returns to slower pace of normalcy
as a large sea turtle surfaces catching
a bit of solar warmth cast upon this
magnificant world of azure water
Sea oats now stand erect, like small
soldiers protecting their beach,
restrengthening -
for the next tumultous reign
of inclement weather