Best Mariners Poems
The Smeaton Eddystone's architecture
First lighthouse protecting navigators
Light blinking, pulsating, luminously
Loud foghorn resounding resonantly
Guides shipwrecked mariners vigilantly
Or swarthy seafarers incessantly
On oceans perilous, tempestuous
A sailor’s salvation eternally
09~19~14
Jan Allison
Contest: The Lighthouse
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Form: Rhopalic verse
~awarded 1st place
Categories:
mariners, light, sea,
Form:
Verse
When moonbeams dance upon the placid sea;
When billowing waves seethe endlessly;
I ponder what secrets the sea might yield,
Should its ageless mysteries be revealed!
Are there unknown monsters lurking in the deep?
Might it divulge where ancient mariners sleep?
Where rest fleets of sailing ships with holds of gold?
Are there seething volcanoes, disasters waiting to unfold?
Where lie armadas sunk in conflict due to mankind's folly,
Sunk in mighty battles with cannons' fearsome volley?
Although the inscrutable sea will not confide in me,
I can still meditate upon closely held secrets of the sea!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Categories:
mariners, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh, the mystery of the Sea!
What treasures lie within your depths?
I stood upon the rocks looking out to sea,
And I heard the roaring waves
As they came crashing into the shore,
It sounded like a thousand voices
Calling from out of the past.
I could smell a salty mist in the air,
The misty spray felt cool upon my skin
As the waves splashed against the rocks,
The moon shone through a twilight sky
And reflected itself upon the water.
I stood there thinking of how the sea was a mystery,
It's been around since the dawning of God's creation,
Oh, if only the sea could talk!
What amazing tales she could tell,
About the mariners who sailed the ancient world,
Intriguing stories of adventure, mystery,
And romance on the high seas.
As I kneeled down with my hands in the water
I tasted the misty salty air upon my lips,
I wanted to say goodbye to a sea that has
Always intrigued me since childhood,
Although the sea began here at creation
It won't end until the worlds end.
Categories:
mariners, childhood, history, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Free verse
When gazing Beta Persei,
a star with many ghoulish names,
be wary of a winking eye,
for fluctuating flames
belie its evil aims.
Ancient mariners would watch with dread
and chant their prayers out loud,
when that “Eye in Medusa’s Severed Head”
was held by Perseus, proud,
high o’er the heathen crowd.
Sailors' hairs would stand and straighten
when that shady eye would shimmer.
The Hebrews shouted “Rosh ha Satan!”
when “The Head of Satan” grew grimmer
as "The Demon's Eye" got dimmer.
Dubbed “Ras al Ghul” in Arabic,
or “Algol” in the West,
“The Ghoul's Eye” plays a demon's trick,
resulting in unrest,
and astro-interest:
Riding high in Autumn skies,
guiding galleon ships,
then fades before their fearful eyes,
by mean of an eclipse
of stars in an ellipse.
Then three days hence this trick repeats
with pre-ordained precision --
dark demon light again depletes
when it winks with wild derision,
which begs a bad decision.
Oh Ras al-Ghul! Oh Ras al Ghul!
So near and yet so far --
do not take me for a fool
that fears "The Demon Star,"
“The Devil’s Demon Star.”
Yet many who think it mirth, or myth,
will double down with doubts,
when that wily eye would wink forthwith
they’ll watch their whereabouts.
Better watch your whereabouts!
For those Gorgon snakes give you the shakes,
and chill you to the bone.
And one wrong look is all it takes
to turn you into stone,
eternally alone.
Submitted June 27, 2020
Categories:
mariners, myth, mythology, star,
Form:
Rhyme
Chaste and more graceful
Than the white canvassed Dhow:
Reclines sweet Nefertiti
Upon a Blue Nile breeze.
Fabled entity more whiter
Than the purest white snow
That thickly blankets
And folds over the wide Pyrenees.
Dipped is thy beak
Into a harvesters August sunset;
A Bohun proper,
Gorged and chained with a crown;
Tipped Argent quills
Thus scrawl across royal warrants:
Plodding, punctilious creature -
Of high born renown!
Proudly thy trumpet Lancastrian ascension,
Emblazoned on a Heraldic shield;
Pomp and indignation
Paddling alongside contemptuous scorn;
Sinuous neck of Serpentine undulations
Tensioned as if a Longbow -
On whose plaited strings
The sturdy Yeomans Bodkins were drawn!
And did Columbines mask
Ever hold such indignant eyes
For whose feathered heart
The diligent cob did attend?
His sedulous efforts
To court within impassioned grunts
When intertwining throats
Do abouts and lovingly wend.
O, Cygnus olor!
En monde bosse - glittering Dunstable jewel;
Pen and immortal verse
Chart beside heavens gilded streams.
For under old mariners discarded stars
And above silvered byways:
Whoop the beat of dusted wings
Inside slumbering clouds wandering dreams.
Categories:
mariners, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
"Fata Morgana"
feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection
gently the sun waves smiling as if to say
feel that, the warmth of waking sleep
no fear of what remains hidden
it will unravel from inside that which is all too deep
walking towards you across the briny mist
from ancient stories forgotten
a halo of St Elmo’s Fire surrounds
it stands still for a short while before you
watching
you,
walking water with your bare feet
faith in dreams consistent in their constancy
that visit you when you are complete yet incomplete
holds out its hand to lead the way across
sharp burning rocks, now a desert, climbing mountains that are steep
a small life crumbles to powdered sand
more than 40 days silent gone astray
years the turning of untimed tides pretence
meets a haunting vision beckoning, new horizon, odd unclear
safe harbour left long ago,
lost in that ornery time, cursed by flying monkeys' bellows
of bloodletting and betrayal, stock still, standing amidst the shallows
somewhere along the way dark narcissus followed
what breaks over the bow
washes all stern fear away
sacred wings of albatross
ne’er to be sacrificed, no more night nor day
souls of ancient mariners
forever follow me, even when I stray
the rich baritone of bedtime stories
messages in code conveyed, I hear them still today
now swallows spooning spinnakers
running directly before wind and sea
the water turns to wine, much stranger the belief,
all manna of trust it feeds
bells tolling
no man’s an island entire of itself
in unusual reckonings
observing swimming hearts, that hear and see
the eyes that melt, this more curiously
in truth, the dream defends
messages eternal
life it never ends
tides move in and out
never alone when we begin
fata morgana
softly the moon ascends
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
VCB
Lux Vitae
5.5.10
"Under a splintered mast,
torn from ship and cast
near her hull,
a stumbling shepherd found
embedded in the ground,
a sea-gull
of lapis lazuli,
a scarab of the sea,
with wings spread—
curling its coral feet,
parting its beak to greet
men long dead."
("Talisman", Marianne Moore)
Categories:
mariners, muse, mystery,
Form:
Narrative
As I sit there looking out to sea,
Reflects a picture of a different time.
Its white washed walls set against the granite rock,
As the sea pounds it, with waves of brine.
A bridle path runs along the cliff,
Worn down, by previous generations past.
Now given way to the bracken, and the wild tuffs of grass,
Walking westward the little path, towards the lighthouse winds.
As dusk moves in with the setting sun,
Its light now begins to shine.
A stark warning to all mariners, as they sail on around the coast,
Now completely automated, except for the keeper’s ghost.
Categories:
mariners, places,
Form:
Couplet
Mute
but immutable.
Unmoving, unmoveable;
timeless, yet tireless.
Solitary stalwart sentinel
surveils undulating horizon.
Aberrant, achromatic clouds
pock-mark the skies, as distant
rumblings herald his adversary's
latest gambit in their age-old conflict.
The wrath of a thousand crashing,
clashing, thrashing fists batter
against the beleaguered sentry.
Ceaselessly, remorselessly,
the maelstrom assails him.
But the foundations are firm and
noble gatekeeper stands steadfast.
Single-minded of purpose, placid
custodian morphs into combatant as
his luminous, voluminous blade carves
luminescent arcs through chthonic cloak.
Tenebrous tendrils wither and dissipate,
impotent under intense lambent onslaught.
His victory is only fleeting, as vanquished
foes are summarily supplanted by more of
their ilk in a seemingly continual surge.
Again and again, over and over, tormentor
presses the attack, exploiting any weakness.
Over and over, again and again, valiant warden
repels the barrage and despatches his enemies.
And so the pattern repeats endlessly, unabated,
as these eternal opponents jostle for position
in a perpetual cycle of aggression and defence.
Until eventually, finally, ultimately, the stale-mate
is broken; when Tempest's tantrum is tamed and
Blizzard's battalions have been banished, all is calm.
Tranquillity is able to reassert herself and order has
finally been restored; at least for the foreseeable future.
Obligations fulfilled, the triumphant Guardian can now rest.
Until the need arises again, until he's called upon once more,
he will wait patiently, watch diligently, in unflagging vigilance.
Forever resolute, a beacon of sanctuary, a symbol of hope, his is a
thankless task, but the Protector of Mariners will always be needed.
-----------------------------------
(C) John C Michaels, 27 July 2017
For Eve Roper's "Lighthouse" Contest.
(1st Place)
Categories:
mariners, light, metaphor, ocean, sea,
Form:
Free verse
A stoic sentinal midst waves,
you staunchly stand erect and tall.
Emerged in frothy, churning white,
you hold your own in nature’s squall.
Atop, your beacon light shines bright
to let the mariners know well,
there is a guardian at sea
that can be seen above the swell.
How stoic now you bravely stand,
against the terror of this storm.
Your eyes look out with searching beams
for those caught in the sea, forlorn.
What glory when your light is seen
above the mountains of white waves.
Salvation in your light of red
denies the sea more mortal graves.
Categories:
mariners, light, metaphor, storm, symbolism,
Form:
Quatrain
`
From a weary weathered beach
I watch the sunset fade
beneath angry wintered seas
drowning possibilities
of another moonlit night
washing up on shore
and still I go on,
for what calls can not be heard,
it must be felt…and I feel it
Vivid reflections falter
atop a jet stream
heated from below, chilled from above,
willing feats of great wandering
when raindrops licked old wounds
and footprints
became yesterday’s puddles
Forgotten mariners,
ghostly silhouettes
cling to ancient dreams,
shadows swimming the deep hollows,
elusive treasures swallowed
by the disturbed mire,
swirling in slipknot patterns
and anchor chains apparitions,
as I now brace against a frigid wind,
traversing dunes
and snow fence barriers,
heading towards the light,
a flickering lone candle
left in the bay window,
a signal that her love
still awaits,
and my heart warms
as I approach the beauty
I have so longed,
on the other side of
a blue weathered door…
Categories:
mariners, longing, love, ocean,
Form:
Free verse
Acciaccatura
And filled with stars and the land
A pale gentle hand turned the hourglass
Of my soul
Stalking the alabaster moon
I rejoined once more
Those who follow the dream
Cutting through crests
Time the scythe of a barque
Treads a song of brothers to sisters of paradise
The prow our ship a searching
Arch-ed carrying the whispered will
Of wishings an ambition to our hearts
Pursuing the alchemy of the moon
Leaping from the shoals
A single white rose this beacon to follow
The mariners we of her phantasmal
Blown by the hunger in blood and breath
Drifting in the calm thunder tethered to a single kiss
Full of stars and the land
A pale gentle hand turns the hourglass
Of my soul
The ghost in our throats calling
Seducing answers to the lamplet
Painted faces of splendour in her horizons distant
She softly sings us closer
Passage through the veils
Drawing on this our meandering ark
An endless ribbon of red flows behind
The vein of each passing quest
As this ship awash the glinting semblance of her face
I have chosen like my brothers, my sisters; to be the seafarer
To search her shadow
Pursue the alabaster moon
Her pale gentle hand
Filled with stars and the land
Turns the hourglass of my soul
Isis the light and by Dianna named
Magdalena’s rose of mystery proclaimed
The witchcraft of the feminine
Thus the sail-ed cutter of waves and dreams
Embarked
Billowed on clouds
The diamond sea we gather
Compass point to reflection
The full moon risen alabaster
Her pale gentle hand
Filled with stars and the land
Turned the hourglass of my soul
(Acciaccatura; An ornament note that is one half step or one whole step below a principal
note and is sounded at the same time as the principal note, adding dissonance to a
harmony. a note in a music deliberately played out of key )
Categories:
mariners, love, mystery, naturemoon, rose,
Form:
Free verse
Like a shaft I fly,
a beam of glorious luminance,
I travel right into your bedroom
at the break of dawn.
"Wake up my friend,
my brothers are coming
to illuminate your day."
Minute follows minute
my duties I perform,
I peep through gaps
of a Venetian blind,
as someone on a bed
lies lazily supine.
I am his wake up call,
dazzle straight
into his heavy sleepy eyes.
"Get up my friend,
work beckons."
'Tis busy at the crèche
Where babies bare their hearts.
I breathe some warmth
upon their frail frames,
paint rosy their cheeks
in the faint hope
that some kind beings
would adopt
these poor unsettled souls.
Through a windowpane,
glass stained with holy men,
I filter hopefully and in stealth,
on a cold spotlight on a marble slab
of someone long forgotten
in an unfrequented church.
Would you consider night
as my immortal enemy?
Oh no, my friend, oh no,
for in the darkness of the gloom,
over choppy and rough seas
I travel happily over peril
and show the way to safety
to mariners lost at sea,
I am a beacon of hope.
Categories:
mariners, hope,
Form:
Free verse
Lighthouse
Tall sentinel that stands guard,
you protect mariners from afar.
They have trusted you to guide their way,
while they work the sea for their pay.
The ocean rises as the storm grows near,
Their hearts are filled with fear.
Your light pierces the gloom of night,
as the winds of the storm howl with might.
Guiding them safely upon the sea,
returning them back home to family.
For years you have stood on the shore,
may you stand forevermore.
Tall sentinel over the sea,
may your light always guide me.
7/20/2017
Categories:
mariners, courage, inspirational, sea, spiritual,
Form:
Rhyme
Young men since ancient times have the battle borne,
Rushing to meet the foe at the sounding of the horn.
Though arrow and bomb will sorely add to their distress:
"I will say to the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress!"
Wielding burnished sword, bearing shield and with armor gird,
And though the tide of battle may at times be very blurred,
Through the din of strife the Lord will hear his urgent plea:
"For He shall give His angels charge over thee!"
Marching forward shoulder to shoulder, musket at port arms,
Silent prayers waft heavenward for protection from all harms.
Vacant ranks are filled as fallen heroes march to eternity:
"A thousand shall fall, but it shall not come nigh to thee!"
Above the earth airmen soar through the vast celestial dome.
Mariners sail in mighty armadas upon the billowing foam.
For humankind they uphold with honor all that is just:
"You are my protector - You are my God - In You I trust!"
The powerful message of the ageless Ninety-first Psalm,
Has helped brave men face battle with reassuring calm.
Valiant soldiers deserve the respect of a grateful nation:
"With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation!"
Based on Psalm 91
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
mariners, faithmen,
Form:
Rhyme
I have soared above the Redwoods in their youth
Touched tips of frosted frigid icy peaks
Lifted weary aching migratory wings
Swept through the oily tint of present day
Enraged the sea, drove ships upon the rocks
Becalmed the mariners upon dead waves
Caressed the vibrant hope of snowbound buds
Blew north an icy chill that still resides
Crept, in fog-like cape, through darkened streets
Swallowing the darkness of the night
Lifted into sunshine the billowing of clouds
Mussed the unkempt locks of playful youth
I have cooled the tears of red-hot passions
And rocked the empty cradles of your dreams
Categories:
mariners, life, time, wind,
Form:
Verse