Best Swimming Poems
Two swans swimming in beautiful bliss -
a pretty picture of spring’s splendor is this.
Wonderful, white birds – like soft snow -
they so gracefully glide serenely slow.
Pale pink blossoms all around -
blooms fallen float on the pleasant pond
that the April sun smiles down upon!
Dec. 20, 2021
Now used for A Strand (1056) Poetry Contest
Under the storm clouds
the rain starts to
wash away
Creating streams
that carve through earth
and broken stone.
Sometimes everything
has to be
eroded and
worn away
so you can find
the solid ground
that was there
all along.
Sometimes it takes
a heavy downpour
to reveal that
small, clear
and steady
spring of peace
within your heart.
Sometimes with
the splintered remains
of the old bridge
you've crossed before,
someone has crafted
something new
from the weathered wood
of your own story.
You are not drowning
you are learning to swim.
Stepping past the crater towards your door,
I am reminded of warm days
surrendered in flowery abandon while
brushing against cool veins of
leafy promise, requiring only the slightest
compassion for the flow of life.
The scope of our crusade sings bitter,
like absinthe in a Fanta bottle;
tangs of anise and wormwood persist
within ether's truthful vision
resisting factory flavors in a curtain,
velvet reminders of flesh.
Lap your moistened shape. You dissolve,
my expectant sugar cube, no longer
made jagged by expectation or campaign
but fragile again, doughy in
blissful rapture upon my snacking,
curling up in a fetal calm
until we flow once more with the surge
propelling us entangled yet
unencumbered, finally breathing our
amniotic potential within this
spiritual umbilical making my stomach
spin within these tugs of finality,
despite my carpenter's heart yearning to
mend or create. Do arrogance and
industry compel mankind's devastation? Such
a question drifts unanswered as I
kiss your wrist before strapping on my boots
to hurl my blood into the fray.
In times where eyes are fixated at your sins,
judgment trolls in deceptive double standards.
When pointing fingers nobody really wins,
there's no joy in being defamed and slandered.
Swimming in an aquarium full of fins,
sharks will bite your flesh then leave you abandoned.
Scars will bleed with pain making you feel brittle,
hard hearts will laugh with insults that belittle.
Afraid of exposure honest souls retreat,
when their character's stereotyped by lies.
Frenemies hide behind a mask of deceit,
their envy is an embarrassing disguise.
Decline the pedestal they place on your feet
emancipate from enslavements that chastise.
Stay clear from those who act like a spirit thief,
growth from ignoring spite gives you self belief.
SWIMMING UPSTREAM
It seems I always
swim upstream
against the current.
re-creating struggles
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance
played out over a lifetime.
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
why must I cause stirred sediments
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence?
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?
I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.
SYNOPSIS
I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed? Perhaps both.
CAK 10-13-12013
A red moon greeted me as I arrived at Eilean Donan Castle,
late at dinner time, a heat wave wrecking zest
of our intended peaceful nightly rest.
It was late but I decided on a nocturnal swim.
O blessed water, so calm, so cool, so placid.
Suddenly I heard the crash of the waves,
an echo, a forlorn ululation of sweet melodious tune.
Alarmed I looked behind and saw a fog cover the lake.
Foamy white lamb-like waves danced around me.
The waves dragged me up on to the sandy beach.
Behind me I saw a figure surrounded by a nebula,
Swimming slowly towards the splendiferous shore.
She came out all wet still wearing an old-fashioned gown.
Both out of breath, we lay on the smooth sand.
Above a red moon shone brightly that cloaked the stars.
In the strange night we looked at each other and smiled.
Soon we were embraced in a long lingering kiss.
Ecstasy escalated rapidly, emotions running riot,
Until the red moon descended behind Donan Castle.
I turned back to her and saw her in the water
Swimming into a swirling mist and disappear.
Back at the castle I climbed up to my room.
There hanging on the wall was a painting of her doom.
Lady Murdina, Warrior of the Sea, drowned 1888.
Seeing the painting and the date, I fainted.
7 January 2022
A Ghost Story Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Angela Tune
I long to lie like a sunrise sky upon the sea
my flame a tender torch for your gasoline tide
freedom fire to burn the brine from my eyes
fluid movements our soft inferno in sorbet shades
m ~e ~l ~t ~i ~n ~g
blushed in hush of dawn like fevered lovers
my soul a bleeding rose rocked by your rhythm
—but the blaze does blister a bliss not consumed
a wailing gull slices wild air
with sharpened wings she rides a woeful gale
labor pains of thunder throb nimbus wombs
hornet hive clouds cut by cesarean lightning
birth swarms of stinging rains
I wander a wind whipped shore of cloudburst gore
with an ache for angst and a hate for faith in blue skies
plaintive cries break the bones of my widow’s dream
exposing my marrow my pledge to the Divine shallow
I throw myself on my knees
belly-crawling-ripples meet me with a rasp
I long to lie like a sunrise sky upon the sea
but sorrow creates a sunset tempest
and now the sun sits so low
I feel the sundown in my soul
oh the slouchy sun just sits so low
drowsy on the smudged edge of drowning
barely above the waterline like my breath
sea– I beg you meet me choke me
take me by the throat with a kiss salty sweet
sweep me out to your blackened deep
take me thief my grief in grasp of your riptide’s greed
Sinking pearls of stone, in an obligatory skip
before the plunge
Haloing the horizon in silver riddles
and the earth is still.
No tides to bite the green watered breath.
No new moons eclipsed by the earth's turn to greatness.
And we laugh.
Laugh in salty brine and cosmos air.
Following the stone's tunnels in a dive into the blue.
Capturing smoothness of hair and palms.
Breaking the evening ocean floor in rhythm
as we catapult to surface calm.
Silver tipped fish wings scatter in water rings.
Algae backed hermit crabs skitter on crackling legs.
And we are the epitome of glee tonight with a fist full of ocean
and two thirds of a wish never ending.
How many breaths do I have, before the end of days
How many words are faked, will we give our game away
How many years in the closet, before they all come out gay
How many dark thoughts do we possess, the one we never say
Questions difficult to answer, how come they manage that easy lay
How many tears are shed, tells his wife he went astray
How many screams do we hear, the bills I’m unable to pay
How many times has he promised, if you go the kids will stay
How many times do we look at the sun, but still it appeared grey
Questions about god and the universe, which truths should we obey
How many saints are in heaven, to which should we pray
How many more sleeps, before Santa Claus, gets underway
How many more weeks til open season, shoot birds in disarray
How many more years do I have, to wear this damn mask anyway
Questions we read about quite randomly, in our poetry soup everyday
20/08/2021
By David Kavanagh
There are goldfish swimming in the recesses of my dendrite pool.
They are flashing their tails and being ever so cool.
I am trying to ignore them, thinking they might go away.
Trixie is laughing, for they very much want to play.
Okay. I say, just for a second or two,
Then frankly, I have a bit of work to do.
The fish are sassy, funny and smart.
They laugh and include themselves in my art.
I am drawing them now as they splash and they wiggle.
They have enormous gold eyes, these fish that so giggle.
These goldfish have taken me hostage today in my mind.
I guess a poem about them would to myself be a bit kind.
So here, goldfish. Here you go, a poem about you.
I have drawn you a canvas and given you fish food too.
Here you go, goldfish. Wait. You want to be king?
There is somebody already there. Okay. You want to sing?
They are singing a song now, serenading themselves and me too.
There is nothing like goldfish, Fish One and Fish Two.
They are smiling so wide, their gills waving and flapping.
I cannot help but be amused, and now they are clapping.
Did I know this dissention might come to be?
Yes I was aware of its probability.
Did that make me any more prepared for the situation?
No I was not nor am I now.
I guess some things are best walked away from;
And you old love must be one of them.
In the hospital cafeteria an old man asked me to sit;
So I did and he talked about his wife dying.
Did somebody send me a vision of coming tomorrows?
Who knows but I can’t go on like this anymore.
I’ve injected, dissected and intertwined many angles;
But inevitably it seems to always come back to here.
As I slowly sink deeper into theses quagmire of depravation;
I seem to have worked my way down from hero to zero.
And my life is hell reflected in slow motion;
As I live out these many fractions of time.
And was it wrong to love you;
The answer escapes me.
And am I sorry now that I did?
I think sometimes I am.
Swimming in sarcastic seas
This is the hook,
that line I dangle out there
to catch your attention,
to tempt your appetite,
to reel you in like a poetic lure,
baiting you to read
as you swim about the site…
so where are all of the little fishies?
Going Down Under!
Toes step, from dry to wet sand
Foot sinks, bathes in waves
Whoosh, waves splash ankles to toes
Cold, cool water, how far should I go?
Waves pulls back, pulls sand into sea
Feet step, from wet to wetter sand
Feet sink, deeper in still
Cold, cool water, how far should I go?
Whoosh, waves splash ankles to knees
Waves deciding, I’m getting wetter
Whoosh, waves splash, knees to belly
Knees jelly, with my jelly belly
Whoosh, waves crash, belly to chest
Waves deciding, I’m falling backwards
Whoosh, waves smash, above me,
Falling, crawling, Going Down Under!
Noels_Art
Comments: Sometimes the water’s cold. FEEDBACK WELCOME.
The Murray can be dangerous,
as the locals have worked out.
There has been some drowning's
plus a few close shaves about.
Some blame grog; some foolishness,
and a few don't seem to know,
but most folks that live along it,
reckon it's the undertow.
Teddy Miller often reckons,
here is where he found God,
by cleaning up the stream of carp,
and often dining on the cod.
He fishes where most fishermen
don’t rate his spot a mention,
but it’s perfect for this old bloke,
now that he's on the pension.
You see it’s beside the highway,
and a perfect picnic spot,
where the water looks inviting,
when the weathers fairly hot.
It’s on these days that Teddy hangs,
his coat across a fading sign,
and then he waits for victims,
to come near his fishing line.
A car drove in, parked on the bank
this sun drenched afternoon.
A shapely girl walked to the edge,
and Ted could see that soon,
he’d be watching her peel off her clothes
right down to her bikini.
So when she stepped into the water,
Ted's eyes were going goggly.
"Oye!" He yelled, "What are you doin?
You can't go in swimming here!"
The young lass turned her head around
and questioned Teddy’s fear.
"Look" Ted said, "This notice says,
as he removed his coat,
“There is danger of an undertow,
so I think you should take note”.
The young lady read the notice,
and then she thanked old Ted,
but after picking up her clothes,
she turned around and said
"You waited ‘til my clothes were off!"
A terse voice now expressing.
"Yeah, well,” grinned Ted “The sign
don't say nothin' 'bout undressing".
It is snowing in Kansas. Florida has an earthquake.
A tsunami in Texas, global warming gives us a shake.
Weird for all of these countries to depend on a lie.
Global warming has come midseason this fateful July.
Dogs are raining in the Rockies. Cats are swimming in the sea.
The world is upside down, topsy turvey, how crazy can it be?
The ozone layer is almost completely and utterly dead.
Lie down child, close your eyes, rest your tiny little head.
Flowers and grasses are the things of the past.
The last sixteen trees are dying, and I mean rather fast.
The wise ones are on space ships, heading to sky-wonders-gate.
I would have loved to be on the last transport
but we were five minutes too late.
Written: 11-21-2019
Contest: All about the Environment
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureaux