Best Shove Off Poems
The sherbet orange light of a fall morning in Connecticut crackles with the scent pine. The lake’s parking lot overflows by nine thirty. The S.U.V.s park in a haphazard manor. The boat crew’s flight from reality – or the emersion in it—began in earnest hours ago. Neon-colored, plastic, kayaks adorn the grass skirt before the water’s edge. Dressed in shades as lively as their hulls, the small craft owners match themselves up with their water-horses. They shove off at random intervals.
geese
land and take off –
squirrels scamper
Disturbed, Lake Lillinonah ripples with the dip of paddle and the morning breeze. The cotton wood trees chatter to passing egrets. The smell of powerboats, only slightly mars the bathing-beauty glow of the day. Days end will find a conga line of cars pulling in to a local dairy for homemade ice-cream. Truly, God is in his heaven and all is right – at least here, for these few hours—in the world.
pink tipped tongues
lick sprinkles from the cone:
eyes roll
Smooth wood
Worn by water and air
Never polished
Escaped by the hands that touched it
Ropes and tackle attached streaming up towards the sails
All foreign to a land lover.
When tied at bay she seems so tame and easy to control
But set her free among the briny sea and you will see what she can bring
And bring it she will and take it with pride and gusto
For the winds were made for her sails and masts that anchor them to the deck
The seamen go about their business as though in a dance or a jig perhaps
But one not for feint of heart
They cuss and scream and talk about ones mother all in a days work
Unless of course you cross a line then there’s trouble about
In the night of the galley or the berth were there may lay trouble can find a weak man
And leave him there till day.
But it only takes a warning for each man has a job to do
And without him that means more work for the others
And less sleep between call
So they sort out their business and carry on as one must
But don’t think you can sleep the day away and not get a lump on the head
For they are watching you and you them and never in between shall a man lay his head down before his time.
Now the sea’s rolls in and o’er the bow tis time take on ones rest. First call comes early and some men like it the best. I prefer four bells in the wee hours of the morn’
When the rooster crows if you can imagine that at sea and the Southern Cross is high in the sky. I’ll take my chance with the wind and the sea and see what God brings. And I’ll swing her around and head for the China Sea if that what fancies me.
For we have been on this ship for more than five years and yet to make land for a day.
A ghost ship you may call us. Lost at sea and never found. But our wood is smooth and berths are clean and we never lie about love and women. For Captain Peterson was an honest man taught us the books of the Lutherans. But we buried him in an island town about ten years ago. And since then I have sailed this ship to heaven and to hell. It’s time to rest and bring her to shore but now no one wants to leave. Our land legs are gone and the desire to walk with the weak leave us less than desire. So shove off again and head to the seas and I’m sure the wolf of the north wind will find us. And we will laugh and cuss till she brings us under.
Winged Lessons
by Odin Roark
Sitting astride his backpack,
A roadside nomadic looked up from his book.
The sun oppressing,
The sand distressing,
The bird noise progressing.
“From where came your right
To straddle fence wire and incessantly complain
With pompous cawing at a resting traveler,
As if he didn’t belong?
Who made you judge and jury for speeding cars
Trying to avoid your missile-like whitewash
As they chase setting suns
And see me only as a roadside shadow?
What do you know of windblown highway ditches as nightly shelter,
Or roadside memorials of white-cross remembrances,
All kinds of lives suddenly stopped?
Rather than making all that commotion,
Wouldn’t you be better off listening a little more,
Enjoying the fluttering quiet of those beautiful black-opal wings,
As you swoop in on sign posts and rusted-out abandoned cars?
What’s with your nasty disposition, anyway?
And why aren’t you carrying on like the raven you are,
Instead of the your noisy lessor specie, the crow?
Oh never mind.
Just shove off.
Let me have some peace
While I work through Poe’s take on your gnarly purpose.
Better still, just shut up and listen.”
‘And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!’
“See what I mean…
Maybe this Poe fella is trying to explain
Neither one of us is gonna live forever,
So…”
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
Throw down past failure
On the shore of Forgotten,
Stand tall as a captain,
Shove off with a shout!
Free wheel's in our grabbers,
Fierce wind's in our favor;
Cut loose every anchor
And sail with a smile!
Hear the waves roaring now,
Feel how they buffet now,
Plunging us down again,
Lifting us high!
Life is the sea of us;
We're not afraid of it!
Sweet the salt brine of it,
Onward we go!
Hail to the lightning there,
We're up for fighting there!
Reefs all about us, bare;
Now we attack!
Breasts are now laboring,
Death is not favoring;
Strike for your life-love,
Stretch for your goal!
On through the wave-crash
Of wishes and mindlessness,
On through the hatred
Of men that can't do!
Steer through the foolishness,
Rush through the madnesses,
Wade through the bubbles
On up to the beach!
Isle that's awaited us,
Be not afraid of us;
Souls of Atlantismen
Come here to stay.
Home of the sea of us,
Life of the deeds of us,
Smile of the style of us---
We, who are free!
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
SURVIVOR, I WILL BE
Stripped me down from my clothes..
Yell at me until your throat get sore..
Speak to me with vile words..
Walk and talk to me like I am nothing...
Yes, It will hurt and pain me..
Probably, It may even make me cry..
Probably, It make me even on bended knees..
Probably, It will cause me loss of appetite and sleeplessness..
But, tell you what....
You can never take what I have..
You can never shove off that smile...
You can never erase the overwhelming love that's within me...
You can never make me fall...
I will rise up: " humbled not proud"
I will stand up: "learned not ignorant"..
I will smile even with tears: "joys not of hurts"
I will shout: "victory not of failures"...
By: olive_eloi
10/01/2013
1:08am
---------------
Go away, Today,
You have overstayed your stay.
You think you're tough,
We've had enough it's been rough,
It's time to go.
Go now,
We can't allow
This bedlam to last,
You've had your day,
Just vanish, we say
Be a memory of our past.
Shove off!!
Oh! you've acquired a cough,
From someone you infected.
How do you feel?
Do you feel ill?
Has Human breath been detected,
A virus in you,
That is new?
Caught, from a human being,
It's our breath that causes your death,
We can't believe what we are seeing,
A vicious virus,
Is not desirous,
To anyone on Earth.
We've invented a puffer,
A virus snuffer,
That will kill and stop future births.
As we wave goodbye,
We all breathe a sigh,
All feeling very chuffed,
Who would have thought we'd kill the virus,
Who was so desirous,
With a Super Sniffer Puff.
The stars of my light
May fall into a thousand light years
Of darkness, fragmented and solitary.
I will sweep the dust of my love
Into the galaxy of abandoned regards
There it may remain a pang
To beget another planet of life;
A God with a new face!
Tear my lust off its skin
To wrap it in new clothes of passion.
Where is the fragrance to shove off
Blood-stained humiliations?
Silence of sky, you spread
Above the green smiles..
When can I have them
To wear in hot days of passive prayers?
When I die
The mob will hold a star
Without edges, to bury me with..
And you will later find
A star to remember in all Decembers....
A gargoyle fell off the top of the building and landed on my toe.
I screamed like an injured bobcat, loud, long, hard, with a glow.
The neighbors all came out and stared, but this was the city.
They turned snickering, and ran off; the scene was not pretty.
One old guy came over and said “There will be a bill for that.”
He was pointing to the cement gargoyle who had ears like a cat.
You think I pushed this thing off the top letting it fall on my foot?
I was irritated now. Also it had left a trail of ugly black soot.
Your tennis shoe is ruined; you should have known better, he said.
I knew right then that the old guy was bonkers in his skinny ole’ head.
I shoved the gargoyle off my foot and told him to shove off.
Then I noticed his ugly smile and his strange little weird kitty cough.
“Hey”, I asked this Weirdy Cat. “Weren’t you married to my sister?”
“Could be,” he replied."I married many." He is a strange little mister.
Oh, yes, I thought, this was one of hers for sure. He is so odd.
I limped off, not looking back after pushing the gargoyle off my bod.
There are some great people
Who treat you as their own pupil
Until you confront a trouble
some great persons are there
All the euphoric events they share
After fathoming your agony, don't they dare care
There are some great minds
To hear your happy verses they incline
And when you lament, they abruptly decline
By embracing you, they make you ween they are gem
And desperately shove off, when you need them
Not even the almighty can predict their traits
But the time could rip up the masks tight
And when you perceive them and try to dodge
Ungrateful person you are, they accord a badge
When time unveils these personalities
Be thankful that it also retrieved your ability
Having discerning true faces of those great peep
Be thankful that you are able to know them deep
its was snowing
wind blowing
it began to make stack
we took shove off the rack
when out back
it was snow ball fight
we had fun doing the night
we were happy not sad
WE DID
THE KIDS SNOW
MOM AND DAD
I will imitate you if I want to, I say to the arrogant iceburg.
He sticks out his frosty tongue, and I show him the identical act.
You are an idiot he tells me, igniting my wrath.
No, I tell myself, I am immune to his irrevocable idiocy now.
I attempt to isolate myself from my feelings, inadvertently making them worse.
Iconic that he and I should be isolated in this territory.
An inauspicious attempt to reconcile us, by my family, I imagine.
I suddenly feel complete inanition; I am completely depleted.
Shall we continue this iterative dance, or find new partners? I ask him.
It is totally up to you, he says, so I give him one last kiss, and shove off.
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
Throw down past failure
On the shore of Forgotten,
Stand tall as a captain,
Shove off with a shout!
Free wheel's in our grabbers,
Fierce wind's in our favor;
Cut loose every anchor
And sail with a smile!
Hear the waves roaring now,
Feel how they buffet now,
Plunging us down again,
Lifting us high!
Life is the sea of us;
We're not afraid of it!
Sweet the salt brine of it,
Onward we go!
Hail to the lightning there,
We're up for fighting there!
Reefs all about us, bare;
Now we attack!
Breasts are now laboring,
Death is not favoring;
Strike for your life-love,
Stretch for your goal!
On through the wave-crash
Of wishes and mindlessness,
On through the hatred
Of men that can't do;
Steer through the foolishness,
Rush through the madnesses,
Wade through the bubbles
On up to the beach!
Isle that's awaited us,
Be not afraid of us;
Souls of Atlantismen
Come here to stay.
Home of the sea of us,
Life of the deeds of us,
Smile of the style of us----
We, who are free!
We come from down under
With a voice of thunder,
Yet stunned into wonder
By the things we say.
Obama Should Care For
More working Obama out of my system.
For Obama, we should always, really care
He surely has been believing in Fair Share
Articulated all his actions are affirmative
And Equal Opportunity is only way to live.
Obama is a friend who gives a fair shake
Nothing about him was found to be fake
Will be continually worthy of our trust
And not living a life full of sin and lust.
With Obama can hear opportunity knock
Believes in fair housing on every block
He realizes that God will try to prevent
Things being done without His consent.
So out of White House has to shove off
Was positive and no one would he scoff
Neither criticize, mock nor make fun of
Only fill people with all of God's love.
James Serious Mysterious Horn
Retired Veteran and Poet
I have sold paintings, but not any more
Because I did not get pleasure out of selling.
I get pleasure out of the creative process.
I love choosing the paint colors, and
The actual painting of a canvas relaxes me
Completely, putting me on my soul level.
Painting is a hobby I fell into accidentally,
Urged into it by a persistent granddaughter
Who did not want to paint by herself.
I have never experienced such a transformation
Of energy. All I wanted to do every waking hour for
Four years, was to paint. My paintings surround me.
They are all over the house; there are fifty-five of
Them in our living room, and we adore them.
The painting process has slowed to a slow crawl
Since I re-discovered my writing side in February.
It is now June; and I have written over one hundred
Poems. Possibly more. I can easily shove off from
One hobby to another as long as I am creating something.
If it is heartfelt, honest, from the soul, a little piece
Of me, all the better. I am satisfied, for now. Jewelry
Making will probably be my next obsession.
With a dagger to my throat,
with what he uses to silence me,
my words don’t speak.
But my heart does.
It blows up and out—splat on the floor.
I can’t muster words,
for I have not been silenced, just robbed of my voice.
But I intend to get it back,
even if it causes me to burn.
I will stand my ground with amputated legs.
I will raise my voice,
even if there are no words to yell.
I will win everything back—
join amongst the devils,
just to prove to those who wronged me
that they never learned.
So easy they make it seem:
“They haven’t done anything to you!”
Exactly the issue.
They don’t do anything with me.
It may be a push to the road,
or a shove off a cliff,
but if they nudge me toward roaring lions,
to them I’ll be forever grateful.
You never get anything as you please.
That’s what makes life so disgustingly special—
an abhorrent case.
Unfair to all,
but more to some.
“But that makes you special!”
Does it really?
A child who yearns to see the light,
or a child with broken thoughts—
Tell me,
do either of us think we’re special?
All the years I’ve been burning,
and you wouldn’t dare to ask.
No amount of water can withstand,
my burning agony.
Day and night, my screams fall to deaf ears.
In a lake, I stood out as a whale—
massive, and undeniable—
yet no one ever batted an eye.
What a blessing it is to fit in.
What a curse it is
to blend in.