Best Landlocked Poems
He stands upon the salty,slippery deck,
Yelling yaargh matey ,
with a halfhearted pirate drawl.
He's not to impressed with himself,
not an eyepatch or wooden leg,
not even a hooked claw.
The parrot on his shoulder,
is a wannabee,
a sparrow that fell from the Crowsnest,
from high up above.
It has no quips ,or spikes,
or pirate quotes,
just nesting on his shoulder
with birdly kind of love.
Aye captain the crew responds,
snapping to their chores.
Tend the wheel ,lash the mainsail,
take the soundings
less we hit a reef.
The sea going life is not for every man,
walking the plank,storms and rickets.
Crabs in your knickers ,
really give you grief.
Aah but when the wind fills the sails to bursting,
yards of canvas strain to be free.
And the ropes play ,sea going music
of a tension melody.
A song that captures
every young buccaneers heart ,
and soul and fancy.
For the music of the wanderers life,
an endless expanse of blue,
bravehearts and fearless men find,
quite a bit too chancy.
Black Beard,Yellow Beard,
the famous Captain Blood,
were all fearless pirates of their day.
He truly knows that he can be,
a great one too.
If he could ever find that bleeping map,
and escape this landlocked bay.
Genesis: God’s plan unfolding
Father, with the Word, creates;
Spirit on the water hovers
God, how great and wise you are!
Caterpillar - slow, unwieldy
Daily tied to earthen bonds
Weaves a tomb of transformation
God, how great and wise you are!
Chrysalis - still small but growing;
Like salvation’s scarlet thread
Silken fibers knit together
God, how great and wise you are!
His creation full of mystery
Tides and seasons, death and birth;
All things change but the Almighty
Only constant One on earth.
Full cocoon - now breaking open
Folded wings untried, unsure,
Now unfolding, flexing, flying;
God, how great and wise you are!
Butterfly - now soaring, sailing
Free at last from landlocked chains
Picture of the resurrection
God, how great and wise you are!
All in Christ made new creations
Old things gone, the new has come,
Praise the Father, Son and Spirit;
God, how great and wise you are!
Ordinary words cannot express the glimpse, this strange eclipse of wonder
Driving over hills, just north of home, it captures first my curiosity
Amid the landlocked green of rolling hills, trees and rocky tundra
Could it be, perhaps a sailor gone astray, whose ship has grounded
Upon the rocky valley floor....so far from sea?
With mast, the sail that hangs so high...pointing sharply to the sky?
This mystery of amazing engineering artistry!
A bridge!....yet, not so simply said, as to be described as bridge alone
A masterpiece, ... as if a giant human hand
Arrived upon this northern California land to craft a timepiece
A sundial, fit to mock, ...fit to rock your faith in any other clock
Where no spring will break, or battery will fail
Where motion works a shadow, which will run as silently as the sun
With a spire that one can see, for miles north and south, over trees and me...
And as the earth rotates the axis on this day
I will walk on glass, across the cantilevered span
Over river wild, and blue and green where salmon run
It gleams as if a giant alabaster sail rules the sea
And when there are clouds it will rest, and all night it will sleep
When the sun lights the earth, then across the land the time will keep.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
For Brian's Everyman's Ekphrais contest
To see a virtual tour of the Sundial Bridge, http://www.virtuar.com/california/sundial/
Or type in Sundial Bridge, Redding, California
This bridge is about 25 miles north of my home
Some may look to distant Mars
among radiant stars.
Get to the desert, you'll find more
much nearer ours.
Nearer than any man knows.
Ancestral, celestial bones,
secret kept in Mojave's botany
seldom seen
though I've never been.
Spread of clustered flowering panicles..
tall giants in sun swept sleep,
despite little rain
inside darkest soul
they creep.
As a child waking from slumber,
thirsty in wonder..
they'll see you free wi' no more pain,
'cept that you bring.
Look to the west,
our landlocked stars..
and be free again,
truly free,
once again.
she had a dream
of seaside escapades
and seabreeze in her hair
this little girl of three
landlocked
utterly determined
to make her dream come true
with a fistful of crayons
she brought to life her pony
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~A CHILD'S WORLD~ 2020
AP: 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on March 2, 2022 for contest A BRIAN STRAND FREED VERSE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
A little ways north of Mill Creek
the beach runs round
to a single wide arcing swath
Where the tide stems landward in shattered segments
fast against the open mouth
of sea and sand and barnacle
There is also a cliff near the free stone rising
above the under-base of a million waves
throttling a darkened face
Somewhere out of sight
from landlocked eyes
salt water still churns
And churns for a million years
oblivious to the damage
inflicted on the crumbling mass
It's as if the big bass drum
of agonies from time immemorial
strums a one note dirge
And thereby summons the shelving mist
to curtail the pitiful death
from the tired eyes of a dumbfounded poet
Who loiters in the wet hiss
like a reporter in search of tragedy
and finding none, returns to home
22 June 2010
A Breakaway
For mankind has the power to think big
History puts them on the pedestal of their career
Aimless drifting until fatally engaged into a drilling rig
Raised a surface at the heart of the sea to exploit oil on its frontier
Oil wells at the deepest sea-bed formed million years ago
Also, a marine habitat that proliferates at the cold bottom
Rendezvous for waterfowl and aquatic mammals arrived apropos
To add spectacle to the blue water, as accustomed
The freshwater flowing in a cascade of sparks
The sea free access to an ocean while some in landlocked
Life on Earth comes in the seas and we proceed to embark
As ocean currents supply the heat energy round the clock
Many ritually unclean substances are passing into oceans
Adulterating the purity of water in its freshness
Oil spills from off-shore and tanker spread discoloration
Suffocating marine life and ingesting illness
Chronicling the ecological cycle literally affect the food chain
Stripping resistant to their organic structure and suffer
From the toxins of oil spill prevents water replenishment
Coating aquatic surface with stain holding tougher
A closer look at dead birds and aquatic mammals
Leaving a baleful mark on the waterways
Cleaning up the breakdown oil is costly and fatal
That I may see no more escalating sense of bad omen into the ocean’s forays
13th place winner to:
GULF OIL SPILL CONTEST
7/4/2010 Sponsored by Team PoetrySoup
Dressed in green, plants and trees grow
Roads of red clay, joining paved highways
Dry and dusty, wet and muddy
Walking shops, sleeping vendors
Basket of fruits, bin of vegetables
Mother of foods, server of nations
Flocked Churches, packed Mosques
Taxis race, bodas rally
Welcoming hearts, amazing people
Smiling faces, begging hands
Noisy towns, silent villages
Crying children, sweating mothers
Drunken men, joyful youth
Packed cities, Street kids home
Rich on the hills, poor in the valleys
Traffic jams maul, load shedding haul
Africa’s frontier, Pearl of Africa
Floods of milk, hives of honey
Racing beasts, crawling reptiles
Home of gorillas, nest of each specie
Jungle for monsters, castle for prey
bed of mammals, host of nature
Path way of the sun, Mixture of weather
Source of the Nile, mother of great lakes
Host of rift valleys, pride of huge Mountains
Pool of hot springs, pack of great rocks
Mother of investors, lover of strangers
Home of kingdoms, shrine of martyrs
Cocktail of languages, blend of tribes and races
Prize of education, oven of destiny
Center of minerals, mogul of nature
Preserver of creation, Lover of God
Many parties, one leader
Mother Uganda
NB:Uganda is a landlocked country in East Africa whose diverse landscape encompasses the snow-capped Rwenzori Mountains and immense Lake Victoria. Its abundant wildlife includes endangered gorillas and chimpanzees as well as rare birds
Thought of writing about this great nation of mine..
There are three of them, Cinderella siblings:
shapely, deciduous, their leafy green
darkness undulating in the specter wind,
its silent snare drum emulating heartbeats
in syncopated symmetry. "Take us, Take us,
Don't stop!" say the sisters, moving as deliriously
as a woman beneath her lover, while their stripped-
down stepsister, one on one, spells out stillness
in inelastic nudity. Wind shears through her,
unconstricted by skeletal shapeliness.
Nothing to arrange here by the coiffeur wind
in the pared-down beauty of brittle lace-
work, if lacework be brittle.
One nest rests halfway up on a slender limb,
a single stem supports its phantom occupants,
imagined, their ravenous snapper beaks --
landlocked shark-lings, all minuscule jaws,
learning to prey under their mother's bellies --
inhabiting a denuded nest, awaiting a spring
of speckled eggs, cracking the silent thunder
of shells, to free those of gaping mouths, who
know nothing of being born, just that they
hunger and someone comes they do not name
as mother: She of the dependable providence.
For now, there are no newborns, only
a feather; feather, feather, whether or not,
provenance unknown, caught in a branch
far from origin like us, trapped in our casings
of skin: softness pinioned in lacework of limb;
ragged, if lacework be ragged. Here,
where the sisters have been to the Salon,
come back as frowsy as ever, but groomed
somewhat, from a blow dry and a cut.
Inspired by a night time view over Dublin city from the Featherbed Mountains.
Standing on the edge of a forest overlooking a night time city,
Like a fallen galaxy trapped between the sea and mountains tall.
Multi-coloured Stars sparkled brightly, beautiful yet cold.
At least that’s how it felt from the darkness of my lofty view.
A whispering forest sigh ran cool fingers through my hair,
As if admiring the shared view while, tolerating my presence.
The creaking wood behind, swayed like a landlocked ocean current,
Pine leaves wafted down, scratching the air as they vainly spun,
Like a child leaving home for the first time, tremulous yet free.
Alone and muted flew a neon eagle, high above the city jewels,
The clouds dissolve and the fallen galaxy reflects on high.
S.de B ............................12thJuly 2012
Somewhere in eastern Oregon
at the top of a long hill
I came upon a sea of golden grain.
The sun was just right
and a whisper of a breeze
made mock flames of the waving grain.
This sea had no end,
it appeared to climb the horizon--
a tidal wave to an ethereal shore.
The sky was a blue I never knew,
and the air seemed mine alone.
I knew i was previewing paradise.
I lingered to lengthen the moment
buoyed by this landlocked sea.
I saw it ages ago, but it is alive and free.
In reverie, the grain is still sheeted gold,
a breeze still fashions the grains as flames,
and the sea yet ascends the horizon.
The scene forever changes me.
Cowboy boots
and vintage wool psychedelia (poncho, jazz shades)
and cool drip slow burn tea
and electric notes of Bob Dylan, Maggie’s Farm
and that dude, he has meth mouth
so I guess he’s going to talk
and talk and talk
Mestizo soda pop
and a Vietnam Vet. selling car insurance
and damn, it’s just too bad
that no one knows of his jungle
or of the opaque-eyed landlocked Lord of the Fish
and the fire-brained midnight mutterings
of his old compadres, the soon to be deceased
and now the bus moves
Sporadic in gesture
and old woman (oxygen masked dementia)
and the intergalactic fliers of fancy
and the acid head priest’s imbalance in fact v.
fiction with his ass in seat and wheels as feet
and the shivering ribs of this, our noble mode
of ultimate conveyance through the assailing grays
whites and silvers of the snow-water-nebulas
and now the bus slides
and slides and slides
Through Spokane dark
and the disintegration of passengers into sleep
on the black glass highway
through the breath of the night
and this is motion
and this feels right.
It has been built beyond the last frontier
on salty marshland and on tidal streams
on visionary plans, on hopes and dreams
Here comes to rest the restless pioneer
The waves and wind inhabitants don’t fear
because the levee like a fortress seems
Although the water may rise to extremes
the stronghold by the bay will persevere
The city has the water in its veins
It flows for fish and man, past work and rest
In the Lagoon ends every waterway
And when it is the season for the rains
this landlocked sea is at is very best
and leads redundant water to the bay
My man from youth grew
Your life was full of superiority;
You dazzled and demarcated,
Who does not belong must be sacrifice,
And laughter were the mystery of your horror tales,
To all animals not wild should cut their tails,
Freudian legacy that governed the tribe of the bookish
And trickles down to wild youths,
The Mafioso cum in our midst
As he found landlocked in:
This is a, that is b and those c, d, and e,
Alphabetically symbolize the allies
Who seemed not to care;
We washed different hoe-hands
Together into the same potluck,
But I decided to follow the king;
It is an experience, whatsoever or whatever,
Expressed what I looked for,
And clapped a song: immortal invincible God only wise,
In the conclusion of the matter
All that needed done was half done,
And tomorrow packed belongs and begone,
Gone on mission and came back with some spoilt,
The pathetic sweet–hearts you hate to remember
The one there and here and lived with in ransom,
And terribly pity, the one discarded, multi-distressing,
With all diseases in her mouth and in belly,
The executioners used darkness to mask
And covered up in shielded shadows,
With weapons drawn and the meat
Surefooted walked into the trap,
The in humans unleashed the superiority tussles:
A dagger slit esophagus,
Knife carved out eyelids
Axes butchered wrists,
Cutlasses designed gothic gashed all over;
Sliding and growling the pain shoot in his vein,
And tore through him the devastated dream,
Soon it was time to go as he lay
And the juice poured out of the vessel in torrents,
To perish, eyes and mouth agape, surprised;
To the moon looking down terrifying,
O! God we lack and want,
O! God provide us our daily bread,
O! God we are crying for injustice,
Mother cried of crushing, crashing heartbreak for
The lamentation of her killed beloved: 'Jealousy inflamed brawled'
Poor mama, she has not been there
Even when she went there,
In agony, sorrow and deep mourning, merely comforted;
But, Eman story had been contorted.
I was born in a landlocked getaway town
Where all the colors were black, gray, or brown.
Jobs at the steel mill were ratcheting down.
It was not in my future to stay.
So, I took a long walk off a very short pier,
An unschooled, untraveled recruit buccaneer
On a quest to cross Neptune’s vast salty frontier.
Hopped a slow boat to China one day.
Underway on the Crescent City, it seemed
The ocean was wider than I’d ever dreamed.
A ship load of sinners, our souls unredeemed
Steaming west toward whatever there was.
Keelung told Hong Kong to call Singapore.
Subic Bay badgered Mombasa for more.
Sea legs, as always unsteady ashore,
Even more so with liquor and drugs.
Bilge water sloshed in the depths of the hold.
The mizzen mast learned what the typhoon foretold.
I was sea duty tempered and Shell Back enrolled;
Wasn’t nothing but maritime norm.
I was born in a hard luck blue collar town.
Half the way broken and half the way down.
But time gifts its renaissance scepter and crown
To a jack tar who’s weathered the storm.