Best Jib Poems
Enticed by his faceted aspects
Political points show his honour
Policies opposed, David contests
Left wing woke folk admonished
Rawness of broad topics examined
Cowboy stories of recent history
Scenarios derived from within
Issues which play contemporary
David flavoured, his firm essence
Infuses my little with his lot
I honestly struggle to explain this
... never missed what I don't got
.. A man who won't take crap
Shallow hits roll off his jaw
My bull wouldn't just lapse -
He'd bleed it dry, peace restored
Faceless man tells me myriads
Written by unwavered conviction
Marathon stamina poem olympian
I, willing victim to his inflictions
Dreaming of David, strange concept
- exclusive, by myself for eight years
It's a choice to remain alone, heart kept
Relic packed away, oddly he endears
Hard nosed refusal to enter this century
Old school stance pings my deepest vibe
Unreasonable, how much it means to me
To absorb the jib of David 's scribe
Around three years his senior
In virus time, located overseas
I fixate on his strong demeanour
In lurid choc chip fantasies
12th September 2020
Categories:
jib, black african american, fantasy,
Form:
Rhyme
Severed from the cut of your jib
Alone my aching heart's
Vitality left on a baited breeze
Erasing what was left of me
Memories oh sweet sweet memories
Erase this daunting pain
Plucked from a sacred truth
Left to soar in a clouded blur
Erase this scary dream
Alone my aching heart
Sleeps
Erase these fateful dreams
Categories:
jib, heartbreak,
Form:
Imagism
I ride the waves of innocence
on the ocean of The Now.
From the depths of dank
a demon stalks my bow.
On deck afraid, alone I stood
quelling fear the best I could.
Furled the jib and reefed the main
what you do when the wind's insane.
Then rising atop a stormy swell
the giant beast straight from hell.
Peering so deep in its deathly eyes
I could hear a thousand sailors' cries.
The chilling truth that I could see
was the evil thing in fact was me.
Categories:
jib, death, deep, introspection, ocean,
Form:
Couplet
How black the seas in a pounding storm!
The lanterns were all blown out.
Only the lights within still burned
For crewmen strong and stout.
The flash from the clouds would scarce reveal
The main and the mizzen bare.
Only a jib on the foremast flew
To point her homeward fair.
The captain on the helm withstood
The gale and pelting spray.
“Only an act of God”, he thought
“Could spare us all today!”
His ship was a fine one, swift and sound,
But was failing against the waves.
Only the quarter of a harbor near
Would save this crew so brave.
The squall raised up a fearsome wave
To send them down to hell.
Only to give the captain view
Of a lighthouse o’er the rail.
That pulsing sentinel guided him
Through rocks and shallow shoal.
Only to bring them safely home,
A haggard twenty souls.
Only a Lighthouse
By: Dean Wood
7/19/2017
Quatrain
1st Place
Lighthouse Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Categories:
jib, sea,
Form:
Quatrain
Oh, poor Anna Creontic
Reduced to a poetic antic
Who in her prime,
Exuding rhythm and rhyme
Broke the hearts of so many
Including mine.
Therefore, I shall not disclose
The “cut of her jib” or point of her nose
And lest I be severely beaten
Unveil a heart sugar can’t sweeten
Say what you will of old Anna Creontic
As history will always inflate
The touch of her hand, the wisp of her hair
And the list of her suitors irate
Among those living and dead
It has never been said
That she didn’t excel
On dance floor or bed
Categories:
jib, fun, humor,
Form:
Verse
No Anchor for Rancor
Wounded the ship of my soul,
With tattered sails,
Heels up in malevolence,
Venom puffs out the jib
In leeward grudges of tactless spite
On a pointless reach
Heading up into retaliation.
Heart hardened sends out a deep tap root,
Like a dagger board,
For my blustering hubris
To drop an anchor and moor animosity
In a portage of perpetual whirlwinds
With undertows of enmity
Crashing about in irons of spite.
Yet steady winds rise up
And I must come about
Heading into prevailing winds
Then journey through hubris doldrums,
Sails filled fresh with newborn winds,
Orphaning rancor - breathing in forgiveness -
Sailing beneath full sails of resurrection
Categories:
jib, ocean, wind,
Form:
Free verse
Twere a blisterin day, on da Fundy Bay, aboard da ‘ Black Angel of da Blue”,
with a crew of 32, whilst resting a spell, wid a thunderin clap of grog ,
when da Jack o’ Cups , his Jib a hangin, spotted a Jolly Roger aft.
Aye! ye coulda sinked me! When dem thar scallywags gave chase.
So we pumped da bilge, droppin a load of crap in thar path, weighed anchor,
turned three sheets to da wind and tried to outrun dem thar sprougs,
but me mateys' deadlights twere blinded by da grog -
as useless as dem thar lanlubbers, and soon dem thar scallywags
overhauled da ‘ Black Angel’.
So! wid a heave to, we blasted dem thar swabs wid da balls off da Brass Monkey...six pounders dey be, but nary-a-one hit da mark and nary a one came back. Dem thar scuffeys' didn’t aim ta sink us, fur da botty be all dey be wantin.
Arrr! Fur sur now we be black spotted,
but I not be ready fur Davey Jones locker yet.
One more clap of thunder be what I be needin ta clear me groggy mind
and figger a way outta dis hornwaggle.
So I spliced da mainbrace and it come ta me in a flash,
da only cargo we be a carryin be Rummmmmmmmmmmm.
so we set dem thar kegs adrift and it wernt long afore dem thar
sprougs was a drinkin grog and a fine time be had by all.
~~~~~
Inspired by: Paula Swanson's contest
Awarded: Second Place
Author's Note:
In order to understand this narrative, you need to understand Pirate's language. You can
find it on the web - just type Pirate language in your search engine.
Categories:
jib, me,
Form:
Narrative
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
tlhIngan bang bom tlhab
(pa' tlhIngan 'ej English Hol)
tugh mate beast qem jIH
flesh, cobalt jIb tear rip
metallic jeD rip qIj vo' DapIHchugh
ghaH ghob'e' nasty, Hegh mInDu' qul
Hurgh qab leathery
uglier Dunmo' tay embrace
dungeons Hurgh foreplay yInISQo' maHvaD
DeSDu' muSHa'ghach objects hurling jej
ravDaq pound, lojmIt pach maH
bey HoS jachpu'DI' DeSDu' morg maS
roar rur heavenly ghe''or Qo'noS vergh
jaQ neH rIQ qet bangwI'
Dub inflicted Hoch latlhpu'
rol taj jej taj
'ej HIv Ho' sharper
'Iw 'uQ'a' Hoch latlhpu' maH
ghob wej qa''a''e' pemHov lust
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
Bring me a female mating beast
To pound her flesh, to tear her cobalt hair
Rip the thick metallic black from the head
She must be nasty, with fire in the eyes for death
A dark leathery face
The uglier the better for the ritual embrace
Let us foreplay in dungeons dark
Hurling sharp objects at love
We will scorch the floors, claw the doors
Howl out loud at the moons of Morg
Roar like heavenly hell on Kronos shores
My love runs deep in the wounds
Inflicted on each others backs
With razor sharp knives
And sharper teeth attacks
We will feast on each others blood
Do battle till the sun comes up with lust
Categories:
jib, abuse, adventure, beauty, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
The Man O'War HMS Arcturus dominated the billowin' main!
Foes were fearful of closin' battle with 'er should they ever deign!
What a magnificent and imposin' sight was she with 'er riggin' full o'sail,
As she raced to and fro with Union Jack a-snappin' leavin' havoc in 'er trail!
The Master, Captain Pettigrew, ran a taut ship but was beloved by his crew.
He had led them through battle and stormy gale - they were tried and true.
Captain Pettigrew held to tradition and was generous with the cup o'rum.
His crew would follow him anywhere, though at times spent and numb!
Durin' the din of battle when lethal shell flew and the cannon roared,
And though the deck was awash with blood upon its oaken board,
Midst the billowin' smoke they saw their gallant captain a-standin' tall,
A source of strength and courage, exhortin' victory from one and all!
Though many a battle and ragin' storm upon 'er had taken their toll,
And 'er wooden hull groaned and creaked with every sea-tossed roll,
She was the pride of the British Fleet and there was nary another like 'er!
Just ask any of the crew who served on 'er and they would concur!
She made 'er final cruise in 1837 leavin' port sailin' o'er the horizon,
In 'er usual majestic style, fully rigged displayin' flyin' jib and mizzen!
Alas, she disappeared and 'er plight was never really known for true.
Only He Who rules the seas knows the fate of HMS Arcturus and her crew.
Categories:
jib, courage, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
FAREWELL TO NOVA SCOTIA
A net of cables stretching overhead in the mist to Dartmouth Bay:
Our boat slips under Angus McDonald bridge out into the Atlantic greys,
Leaving forever the blues and yellows of the clapboard houses and the days
Of Annapolis valley blossoms and hearing Pugwash bagpipes play.
Running the combers out to the horizon and slipping over, storm tossed:
The sight of our hilltops sinking away brings a salt taste of spirits lost,
Reaching, yearning to return just once to the fog-land we loved the most,
Jib and bowsprit stretching up from the water, farewell arm of a ghost,
We see again the beach at St. Mary’s with the crying gulls at their song,
And watch the whales blowing in Fundy’s Bay and the tides strong,
We follow the fish, the waves, the winds, summers short and winters long:
We know the cliffs where the land ends and where we belonged,
And the call of foghorns and the estuary lighthouses welcoming bright.
We walk the causeway at Canso Strait, left side frozen with St Lawrence ice white,
Right side side open to the water of the unfrozen Atlantic, dark as night.
We hear Nova Scotia call us : we’re home with our nets at last - and all’s right.
Categories:
jib, mystery,
Form:
Monorhyme
Dar harbour full of teeming life
A mass of colourful ships and boats
Radiant do your waters gleam
Each wave gently lapping the shore
Sails fluttering in the breeze
Slowly yet violently the yachts jib
As they sail and tack against the wind
Loud blast out the ships horns
As the tugs pilot them to sea or dock
And the gulls screech diving in their wakes
Many colourful dhows sail in to moor
Hot breezes on my face
As midday temperatures soar
Raising our sails we float
Bringing our bows into the wind
Out to sea we are headed
Under full sail we skim the waves
Ready for what ever adventures await
written 03/11/2013
finalist in National Anthology of Poetry Competition of 2014
www.youtube.com/watch?v=SosiBqiUJTM video of beach
this clip shows the beach we lived near and also others of the harbour I talk of in this poem
Dhows are a native large boat with 3 square sails of highly coloured Material similar to Junk boats / ships
Categories:
jib, africa, boat, sea,
Form:
Acrostic
Who are you!!!
it doesn’t matter as you will be judged
not by who you are
but by the perceptions of “who – they think - you are”.
Oh, I know, you don’t judge - you evaluate
my look, my posture, the tilt of my head
the whiteness of my teeth, the “cut of my jib”
filter all that I say through the detritus
of your mind, your experiences,
your standards of excellence – or fraud.
My background will sway your interpretation
of all I do, or say. “Well, what can you expect
from someone from such meager beginnings?”
Opinions will be tested for malleability,
beliefs will be rubbed against your “touch-stone”
the efficacy of my prayers measured against your icons.
So, all I can tell you is that I – am me – warts and all
a highly evolved spiritual being sailing through life,
seeking the serenity of the sea’s welcome.
I am an instrument guided by the hand of creation
slicing through the crust of fear, softening hardened hearts,
whispering to the wind that “we are at peace”.
If you must ask “Who Are You?” perhaps you may
benefit from gazing into a clear pool, smiling at the reflection,
asking yourself: “Who - Am I?”
N/A contest finalized 4/7/16
poem written on 4/2/2016
Categories:
jib, judgement, life, spiritual,
Form:
Free verse
By moonlight step on the pitching deck
Leave the safety of dry land behind
A quest to know what lies beyond here
The familiar and the known recede
Like sailors of ages past who left
A thousand treasures to seek and gain
She plots her course by the stars… to find a dream
The jib sail catches the sun's first light
As she sets off at the break of dawn
Miles drift by… she is alone and free
Then a voice calls to her, and she hears
Faint at first, then growing strong and clear
He beckons to her and she must choose
She turns her course to follow… to chase a dream
Wind billows the sails, the mast holds firm
The waves, like wings, flow from bow to stern
She becomes the sea, his voice the sky
Breeze, his breath, blows softly through her hair
Pure rays, his touch, caress her fair skin
The sun, his face, kiss her lips gently
She stays her course through the day... and meets a dream
Through sunset they journey together
To the vast expanding horizon
Where the sky and sea lay in repose
Lovers entwined embrace at twilight
United on this new adventure
Where East meets West, stretching forever
They plot their course by the stars... and live a dream
8/7/2019
Categories:
jib, adventure, allegory, ocean, romantic,
Form:
Free verse
Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.
Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.
The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,
That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.
The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.
Categories:
jib, adventure, death, destiny, stars,
Form:
Heroic Couplet
they would dice many a chive
by management me from da dive
apartments in hatfield in close proximity
to the bloody sorry fate
oof a von nee gutt
thar slaughter house five.
mine eyes saw gore
and remained fixated
orbital fixture
of poor creatures in a daze
sans reaction averting gaze
away from disgusting entrails
visible picture amidst the maze
of chutes and ladders
stepping on select
foursquare did raise
or lower (similar to an elevator)
but movable blocks
also went cross ways
oh, anyway, this reply
written by me - scott math u
passable poet tree - at most true
this email far ye to rue
these twisted sister strands
of pearl jammed zz topped
chromosomal strands being did hew
who only to five feet and ten inches grew
crafts, finesses,
indulges love of language
to prose from fingers flew
and writes poems
cawing all r e'en juiced
one angry emu
leaving her/his presents
custom made doo doo
per comprising a motley crue
of a family - pearl jammed color ague.
please rsvp asap via text
to me scott matthews my chosen ac/dc label
i.e. pleasure like rubbing against sable
create r hard woo n intimate scorpion fable
unless ja noah under me ma jib rush
like inxs o ruck kiss in tower o babe bull
by texting if willing, ready, eager and able
froom - - scotts matthew
who lives way off the mainline -
juiced about a few dirty dozen dancing deeds
done dirt cheap miles west of philadelphia,
and some ten miles east of king o prussia
pennsylvania who imagines your sultry skin
silkily soft as a lynx, pussy cat
rubbing against ma leg under da table.
Sent from my iPhone 456789
Categories:
jib, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Elegiac Lyric