Best Sloop Poems
The Garden of Eden
Some people believe that the Garden of Eden
Was in Africa, Asia, Australia...not Sweden.
The presumed site of its location
Is assumed from the interpretation
Of which Good Book's being read…and who's doin' the readin'.
Noah
Noah's ark, neither yacht nor a sloop,
Was constructed to be one big animal coop.
On his crew It must have been a strain
That during forty days and nights of rain
To keep forking in fodder and scooping out poop.
It Ain't Necessarily So
Pious people are prone to become agitated
When agnostics assess their belief's overrated,
And the words that they're liable
To find in the Bible
By mere men were created, not divinely dictated.
Cruising the Mediterranean
I don't wish to fight any more
I want to enjoy the sunset
On the sea I so adore
Please hold your tongue
In silence,
View the beauty all around,
Tend the sails with care
So we don't run aground
I'll make us Margaritas,
We'll dine in finest style
As our sloop carries us
Through many a sea mile
No fighting, please,
I beg you,
Let this be a sailing
in but total peace,
And anger and misunderstanding,
I pray that they do cease
So hold me as you did once,
No question of our love,
And watch the Albatross
As he flies off with the dove
The soothing sea to rock us,
As if babies in need of sleep
And the new memories we create
Forever shall we keep.
Arggh me hearties! We're takin' a long-awaited vacation!
Th' enchantin' isles uv th' Caribbean is ar final destination!
Hoist th' Jolly Roger an' them billowin' sails an' let's git 'er underway!
Th' Spanish Main is ripe fer pillagin' so let's git thar without delay!
Ye signed on fer this here little cruise knowin' I runs a very tight ship.
Ye do yer jobs, don't complain an' don't ye dare give me any lip!
Ye'll git three squars a day an' yer daily tot uv rum as well.
An' I 'spect ye ta stick wit' me tho' we may ketch almighty hell!
Now if'n we happen ta meet a sloop er two upon th' boundin' main,
Ah'll 'spect ye ta wield yer swords an' cause th' scoundrels pain!
Jes' keep in mind that ye'll share in th' booty that we acquire,
An' I promise ye a proper burial at sea if'n ye should expire!
Arggh me maties! Ah'm anxious ta run me fingers thro' them pieces uv eight!
An' git me paws on them thar island beauties! Aye! I kin hardly wait!
Ye! Up thar in th' crow's nest! Keep a sharp lookout fer any ships at sea!
An' ye fellers on th' deck aim them cannons true when ye hear "far!" frum me!
Ah don't reckon that we'll be received as welcome guests in any port,
An' them wily natives will 'ave thar guns aimed at us frum ever' fort!
But if'n ye keep yer swords honed an' yer blunder busses' powder dry,
We'll carry off thar wimmin an' swag as we wave ta them goodbye!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
Placed No. 9 in Paula Swanson's "A Tale o' Pillagin'" Contest - July 2010
Out on the shore he looked away, drawn by the oceans crashing waves; out on the shore her
heart it broke, as she watched him stop to smoke.
They knew that ties of love would sever, that he would go away forever; ne’er to return to
this shore, ne’er to see her, his love, anymore.
And so the sloop the pirate boarded, where all his treasure he had hoarded; away he sailed
to far new lands, to take from others with his hands.
Though he seemed so heartless and cruel, even he had loved a girl; and on a shore so far
away, they hanged the pirate there today.
She heard the news, her heart it wept, and so she plunged into the depth; her body found
broken and maimed, death the choice she had claimed.
The noose is a nightmare for any seafaring man
Especially those who thrive the best they can
Danger lurks on the waves like a mugger in the shadows
The only concern is the prize and the gallows
For the young pressed into service have two labors
Cabin boy or powder monkey are their favors
A fair share for those who survived
Though not to many lived to enjoy the ride
Mostly master gunners would employ the young ones
For the task of loader and powder runs
A grizzly sight to any mother of today
Blood spattered, powder covered, limbs severed portray
I dare say I met one intact and conscious
He was rude and quite audacious
No name had he just an X above the knee
His mark given by Captain of the Breeze
A sloop of war in Caribbean was this
Massacred whole crews drunk as piss
The boys attitude so moved my heart
That I had to set him free from his part
Before I saw him he was the only one left to be hanged
Port Royals mob clawed and fanged
I set to watch when I saw how young he was
I had to do something for his cause
I bid the court give me custody immediately
They awaited the response from the Admiralty
The response was yes almost to late
For the executioner just removed the safety plank
He kicked and cried for a moment then released
With the knife of the kings lease
A bruise found its way around his neck as a reminder
For a life against the grinder
I sailed him back to London to learn a trade
And go to school for a decade
I later named him after my name kidd
Later to be known as William Kidd
A Poodle and Apple Strudel
To popular belief, it all had been according
And wondered if we really could be affording
To buy what some called the John B. Sloop
Bottom of sails looked like a hula hoop
While walking around we also just found
That when being on John B. you are bound
To become stuck up and also possibly a pris
While you gaze at wild water and reminisce.
Liking to laugh a new habit now has become
And best part of pudding is a pleasant plum
Then through life as things all get tougher
From an illness, you will soon start to suffer
Cathy many have said is short for cathedral
And according to problems that are procedural
Process was becoming kind of quite inviting
I discovered best thing to do is be delighting
So finally forget all I said without fail
Go out on John B and around should sail
Be sure that you bring your pretty poodle
Who always enjoys eating some apple strudel.
Walking along the ocean shore
Kicking up the golden sand
I feel the warmth of the rising sun
On the back of my freckled hand
The willet and the sandpiper
Dash into the approaching waves
As the sand crabs and quahogs
Burrow down, hidden away
Sea weed and sea grass
Are washed into the beach
Holding scallops for the shore birds
And for the sand fleas, a feast
Flying high above
A seagull takes a hungry look
A brown pelican suddenly dives past him
Knocking him for a loop
Young families on brightly colored blankets
Blow up beach balls and remove their shoes
Children jump over the white crested waves
While a surfer dives her way through
Sunscreen on tiny little bodies
Hats on round little heads
Sunburn is not an ocean treasure
When little ones go to bed
Plastic pails and shovels
Are carried across the golden sand
Dreams of sandcastles and moats
Become shapes under little hands
The life guard stands in his tower
Binoculars in his hand
Watching surfers and swimmers,
And those safely on the land
He is able to see in the water
Things others do not know
Rip currents and rough waves
Keep him constantly on his toes
The pier is in a distance
Waves crashing underneath
Crusted with mollusks and barnacles
It is no place for bare feet
Along the pier overhead
Are fishing poles and chairs
Fishermen casting for dinner
While fishing stories they share
The afternoon sun rises higher
The wind dies down a bit
Surfers come into shore
Their bodies lean and fit
Off in the far horizon
A small sloop glides quickly by
The wind filling its red sails
Speed causing the bow to rise
A cabin cruiser motors past
Fifty feet long at least
A party on board and a dingy behind
The guests are in for a treat
Yo-Ho-Ho And Shiver Me Timbers
Shiver me timbers and loosen me limbers
I sail me sloop until it lin’ers
And drop anchor in t’ nearest lagoon
Bury me treasure chest full o’ doubloons
Then set off durin t’ next full moon
~
“Aarrr!” I’m happy go-lucky sea piratin Cap’n
With a short wooden leg and a limp, earrin’s, and rin’s on every fin’er
Metal silver hook for me left hand
Me cutlass, dagger, and dirk o’ me belt
Not a landlubber at all
~
Not a thin’ scares me that stand in my way
Especially when I’ve had a few grogs in me belly
Aye, I carry around me Ahoy! bucko Polly me parrot on me shoulder
That keeps me on t’ straight and narrow
~
They call me a barbaric and thief I don’t know why
A great insult t’ me, I just laugh into my handkerchief in disbelief
~
Don’t insult me temper because it gets carried away
Sarcasm, rudeness, and insults I cannot help
When swashbucklin’ scallywag get in me way
~
Me hearty weigh anchor
Or I’ll give ye a taste o’ walkin t’ plank
T’ Davy Jones’ Locker you will go and feed t’ fishes for mutinous
Dead men tell no tales!
~
Aye, aye, mates, pull anchor and set sail
I be Silver Hook a feared pirate that sails t’ seas
9/5/2015
Contest Name :A Pirate's Life For Me
Sponsor Name: Kelly Deschler
Searchin' the waves for sight of a sail.
Throwin' back hearty tankards of ale.
" Sails to port, " the lookout did call.
So excited was he that he nearly did fall.
Closin' in on the prey excitement grows.
In less than an hour we'll come to blows.
Ocean spray feels good on my face.
Closer and closer we're winnin' the race.
" Weapons in hand, " I cry from the poop.
My wolves get ready as we near the sloop.
The vessel did gleam, she's a true beauty.
My blood is boilin' for my pirates booty.
" At her lads, " I yell through a death grin.
We swarmed so fast the fight did barely begin.
The fight was swift but it was bloody.
After spyin' the treasure I knew we'd been lucky.
Out of the chest gold spilled to the deck.
Loot her and burn her, we'll sink this wreck.
Back to our ship we take our loot.
Survivors on the plank their gettin' the boot.
Twas just another day in a pirates life.
You've got to be quick and sharp as a knife.
the following quite quirky epistle may not exhibit the ordinary characteristics of poetry, but i decided to share this self made challenge (where every word begins with the letter "S" - no explanation can be offered why such self cerebral torture imposed, nor what motivated me to focus on the nineteenth letter of the english alphabet at the exclusion of other noble vowels and consonants.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Sunday September seventh started seemingly same since...silver screen show secured seventy seven SeventhSeals.
Soupy Sales supreme salient strengths (starring smart pet sidekick Springer Spaniel Socrates) salvaged sagging sporting sorties. Slap stick stereotypical swashbuckling shticks supplied shipshape shenanigans.
Spartan stage set spurred spontaneous simply stupefying solution. Suede shod schlemiel. Sartre seasoned scenes. Sharp sticks supported sphere. Seats situated semicircular semblance.
SPCA, Siemens, Sears sponsored soiree. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious shouted satirically 'specially Saturdays seemingly sellout. Spontaneous spritely Shogun Samurai sangroid stance satiated slipups stripping stellar seasoned Skidamarinks substitutes sacredly, seminally, silently, slipstreaming soulfully saving saga.
Sometimes silly spouse studiously sought spurious strategy stringing superlatives showcasing senseless sophomoric soporific skills specifically spelling storybook sassy sharpshooters supposedly sleuthing shapeless seated sideways (sic seasonal slate smug spotified snapchatting skippers selfishly scooped sloop-ful seasonal six-packs) sinister Swiss scalpers sat sometimes squatted.
"Damn Bird"
All the King's Corsairs & Grand Sailors them all!
Went to winds in efforts enthralled~
Ken o'lone sailor whot's ayre so then gone~
Nay naught e'er whot's seen any day's dawn~
For once they did'st sail seas then so steep~
Naught o'fear o'anywhot's ayre 'er deep~
& the corsair's king has gone off to sleep~
Arrrrggh...then did'st a'come a'thunder & gale~
Off far away from a distance seen her sail~
Sloop sleek & stealth by her wake~
Hard into harbour fast did she make~
'Round embattlements under cannons hard roar~
O'er her topmast that damned bird did soar~
Eye at meown & hard as cobalt~
As if it all were meveryown fault!~
Now did'st damn bird aloft at me back~
Find in me mainsheet a tad o'such slack~
As to lay 'er booms wind'ard & set all a'back~
A'baft shall we then ride as one with a tide~
Blown 'ard fer lee shore & set to 'er rail~
Damn 'er foine line settles well in tall swell~
Cut now merry little sloop o'er those waves~
Fer damned if ya don't ye be a landsman & knave~
Begone silly bird yer toime 'as run through~
Such glass as ye know 'tis known but by few~
For all such 'as sailed seven seas~
E'er 'er tantrums & fury to please~
For all then they whot's e'er a'sea~
Such sea whot they didst tease~
Nay~Nay~ Off with ye now~
Damned bird 'overin' at me bow!
Ne'er ne'er shall a day be again~
Whot ayre me 'ad call any damn bird me friend~
Feathers whot 'as all they got good~
Better yet whot's ayre them's all but food~
Off'n me rigging damn bird ye drat~
Off'n me spars whot 'ave ye that~
Out from me cabin & away from me bow~
Out or I'll be a'chasin' ye now~
Woe be damn day whot brung such a bird~
Not ne'er o'such 'ad e'er been 'eard~
Chewin' me spars & flailin' me lines~
All round me boat & under me chines~
Where be me wind to blow off this beast~
When does me waves take away this tiny feast~
Send me a monster of feathery touch~
If'n me 'as to be put up with such~
Off damn bird & outta me 'air~
Out with ye now I'll give ye a scare~
Fly like an Eagle so ye say ye do~
Ne'er no Eagle were that which ye knew~
SeaWolf
©
Sea Spray (getting my salt on again)
Shake the cobwebs from my mind
hidden places elusive
hard even for me to find
shedding layers, strings unwind
Grow me a red beard
shave my head, shipboard doo
thinking clearly, feeling weird
situations often worse than feared
Making up recipes for camel ball soup
eel meat, pinches of saffron
powdered rhino snoot
For now, no more baby poop
Up another gangway leaving it all behind
one more Captains office, ‘Articles’ signed
taking the watch, changing the clocks
Exactly what am I trying to find
***
Through salt stained window dawn rises
rubs the whitecaps from her eyes
and stretches. . . on forever
***
Eat your citrus get in the loop
prevents scurvy maybe even the whoop
potatoes or yams, one pound a day
And you, yet to get a sloop
She was a 40 foot Bermuda-rigged sloop,
with linen sails a mahogany deck and
brass fittings; he took the east wind out
of Key Largo, as the dawn picked up the
spray and pitted his tanned face,
dolphins and flying fish, played with the hull,
trying to beat each other in a race to pierce
the blue brine: nothing was like this, and nothing
was like doing this, and a wry smile stretched the
flesh of his leathery face, now massaged by the
warm leeward-wind
the heat haze threw up mirrors at the hull sides,
mixing the dazzle of the ocean gaze with the press
of the impatient sea; it’s fecund smell and the glare
of the polished wooden deck, fired in to his senses,
mixing sounds, heat and water; a maelstrom of ocean
sense;
and then he and the boat, peeled off into the blue forest
of sea and sky,with a heading for Havana set.
Singing
(With thanks to John Miles.)
Singing was my first love,
And it may be my last,
Singing in the future,
Came from singing in the past...
First was singing at school,
Happy songs and ditties,
And a solo first verse
Of 'Royal David's City
Then to the local choir
To sing along in church
hymns and carols, where on
the edge of a pew I'd perch
Soon the joys of rugby
Enticed me from the choir
With songs of maidens named
Dinah and Delilah
We'd sing of Immobile,
and then "The Sloop John B"
And a Dickie-Die-Doe
My rugby team mates and me
Then a hip replacement
Stopped all the running stuff
Rugby and triathlon
My body had sung "Enough"
My soul cried out for more
My brain would not relent
From finding a way to
Assuage my musical bent
Next up was D.M.T.
And also TiTCo too
Concerts and musicals
Sung, and operas with W.H.O.
As-hoc singing as well
Sea shanties down the pub
And those stand up, floor spots
At Seend Acoustic Club
So here I sit today
The score upon my desk
Learning my tenor line
For whichever show comes next.
Singing was my first love,
And it may be my last,
Singing in the future,
Came from singing in the past...
far from wintry England
into caressing warmth of a tropical beach
sun and sand
fun and frolick
in a lazy temperate breach
uptick
recoup
recharge, wild peach
sloop
far from wintry England
in a lazy temperate breach
sloop
4.1.2021
Note:
Format of the New form of Rhyme named MlNICHU is as follows:
1. Total12 lines (4 stanzas of 3 lines each)
2. Rhyme scheme: Aba, cBc, dbD, ABD.
3. 4th stanza consists of repeat of 1st line of stanza1, 2nd line of stanza 2, and 3rd line of stanza 3.
4. Poem should stick to a chosen theme through all stanzas. A twist can be introduced in third stanza, if required by the theme, to make it more interesting.
5. Syllable count :
Stanza 1: 6,12,3
Stanza 2: 4,8,2
Stanza 3: 2,4,1
Stanza 4: 6,8,1.