Best Whale Poems
Black like a rare diamond.
Perfectly sculpted.
White as a snowy peek .
Reflecting off the glistening waves.
Your beauty and grace challenge us.
Mostly free, we morn for your captured brothers.
Gliding and leaping through the blue.
Chasing your soul mates protecting your tribe.
Your song is herd for miles deep.
Echoing on the icebergs.
You are magnificent, alluring.
Teasing us with your glance.
Swim far Orca be free
In oceans deep, the white whale sings
He seeks a mate to ease his pain
His song, it plays on our heart strings
As Moby Dick searches in vain
Such loneliness no whale can feign
For he’s the last of “great white” kings
Angry, no love can he attain
Casting hapless ships ‘neath waves’ rings
January 21, 2020
For Charlie Messina’s “Oh-No A Twisted Char-Lay Poetry Contest”
Golden Disks and Whale Clicks
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the surface
of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascade, scroll, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published: Eye to the Telescope 1/15/15
I was there
There .... floating on a small fluffy cloud
Hovering over the sea
Watching the seals at play.
I could see on the horizon
The sighting of a whale
I knew the seals would be vulnerable
I tried to call out,
To wave my hands,
To warn them.
They ignored me,
The whale swam closer
Could see the mouth open.
Ready.....ready ...to swallow a few
My heart pounded
What could I do.
I jumped
Jumped from my fluffy cloud
Landed on the whales back
Not sure who was most surprised
The whale or me
Then he began to dive under the waves
Tossing me in the air
The seals seeing the commotion
Rapidly swam away
The last time he tossed me in the air
I landed on a small island
Badly battered and bruised
No food no water my fate was sealed
I lay down closed my eyes to sleep
I was awoken by a lollopy dog
Head butting me to wake up
My bed clothes were in a mess
Torn to shreds, I was sweating
Perspiration soaking through my nightclothes
Was such a real dream
What ....
who ...
was I trying to warn?
Will I ever know?
Penned 20 April 2015
Sperm Whale Dementia.
Here I am an old Sperm whale,
A swimming in the deep,
Sucking on the Crill, inhale,
As fearless I do leap.
And then I come to surface,
And clarity does seep,
Dementia nursing home this place,
Me poor old bones do creak.
Back beneath the water,
A swimming in the deep,
Happy as a tadpole,
More Crill to maybe eat.
Back up to the surface,
Who is that woman here,
She says she is Molly Brown,
A rellie so sincere.
So come visit sweet Molly Brown,
I may be far away,
Or surfaced with a puzzled frown,
A sperm whale here today…
Don Johnson 22-aug-11
All aboard this ship of fools,
all aboard she's sailing,
all aboard this ship of fools,
for we are going a' whaling.
From the harbour our course we keep,
for the distant Antarctic water,
to find the leviathans of the deep,
and begin our bloody slaughter.
All aboard this ship of fools,
all aboard she's sailing,
all aboard this ship of fools,
for we are going a' whaling.
We say there is a scientific need,
to study these magnificent beings
we harpoon them, and watch them bleed,
as before our ship they're fleeing.
All aboard this ship of fools,
all aboard she's sailing,
all aboard this ship of fools,
for we are going a' whaling.
And still our leaders, they entreat
that we do this for the good of science,
but really it is for their meat,
that we kill these gentle giants
All aboard this ship of fools,
all aboard she's sailing,
all aboard this ship of fools,
for we are going a' whaling.
Zone A is a flightless bee turning a corner on a wheel. A glowing wheel. Wow such atomic prowess of stripes. But entering under the ocean and travelling at speed is a submerged undetected mobile monster whose instruction is to annihilate an entire side of a country. Wave not at this. The sea life is very confused at the disturbance in the waters. It is not the fault of a fault line. It is merely the beginning of an eradication. This is no underwater pretty specie. It is a journeying destroyer. All trees know. They feel the vibrational frequency through their wise roots. No signal boxes in an underwater roadway. Preplanned movement of murmurs. Akin to an epic blockbuster multiplied by several million. Safety safer still stating staying survives? And a dish of frozen ice cream is never eaten in a grey shrapnel cloud. Take a very large multicoloured multifunctional tent into the centrepiece of a land mass. Reaching residences. No ha no x nothing. Perhaps later. Maybe not. Message mingling minding mince. And a dove flying at over 80000099 feet above sea level. Not good. Not wow. Deviant not a design. Pickled worm. And a fat portly man with a pumpkin face. Darkness's of fortresses with smoked food. And an oceanographic soup boiling. Sap sale spit. And a dog in a stripey square hat laughing. No telephone wire in an earthly clump then. Ornithological 57*90*1
Jonah found himself in a most dreadful fix
He nearly had an encounter with the River Styx
He was freed by the whale's timely regurgitation
Thus easing its bellyache and Jonah's expiration!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
When the call of the Lord came to Jonah,
“set out for the great land of Nineveh!”
he was angry inside,
and decided to hide,
on a Tarshish bound ship leaving Joppa.
Then the Lord sent a great wind on the sea,
ne’er a more violent storm could there be,
there on destiny’s brink,
the ship threatened to sink,
while, old Jonah, was below deck asleep.
Surely, each sailor’s heart fainted with fear,
as the ship they were unable to steer.
“Wake up, Jonah!” they cried,
“get thee quickly topside,
and fervently beg your God to draw near!”
Now, Jonah knew that this storm was for him,
as in his heart he remembered his sin,
he thought he was sunk,
when they gave him the dunk,
and had to choose whether to sink or to swim.
As soon as Jonah met up with the ocean,
Both the winds and the waves ceased commotion,
then along came a whale,
and old Jonah grew pale,
as it swallowed him up in one motion!
Three long days in that big fish he stayed,
vowing never again would he stray,
relieved not to be dead,
and with kelp on his head,
onto dry land, our dear Jonah was sprayed!
Please, allow me, now this moral to mention,
that when the Lord God gives thee direction,
you must not delay,
set out right away,
His good judgment you must never question.
Should by chance, you hear God’s voice compelling,
“ head thee out to Bangladesh or New Delhi,”
best get on the right boat,
and pray that it floats,
lest you end up kelp covered and smelly!
mind song riffs
joining the back beat
nature clicks
timpani
drums of black thunder
percuss
then the sky opens
a luminous landing
off gasses from the heat shield
rainbow across a spectrum of light
Cam’s Glieseian tongue flew over the
surface of the audio generator
Voyager’s golden disk long gone now
transposes across a film of galactic plasma
the taste of whale and bird song they tongue
enthralls them—though they had no notion of
whales or birds
mind song cascades, scrolls, behind the visitors opaque orbs
joining the back beat nature clicks woodpecker tunes
tympanic membranes shiver upon
retractable body hair
drums of black thunder roll
past helmetless crowns
percussing their brain stems
orgasmically
then the sky opens
Sol’s a black dwarf they are too late
but still the songs sang
Cam tongued the plasma film
once more then reentered interstellar
hibernation
First Published by Eye to the Telescope 2015
The Curach (currach) is a traditional Irish boat made from animal skins / hides (now canvass). The hides vibrate when a whale sings.
Whale Song
How gentle the waves lapped the boat almost bobbing me to sleep,
My liquid turquoise mattress with its secrets buried cold and deep.
A curious dolphin glided past, its snout smiled in its personal joke,
As it observed my ungainly presence, (this awkward land folk).
My man made curach of pitch, wood and canvass stretched taut.
As she masters the sea with courage to return the fish she caught.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
And there in the distance, a great humpback whale trumpeted the clear air
As I sat in heaven blessed company with nature, in the middle of nowhere.
The whale approached my flimsy craft with a natural grace that was serene
One of the most beautiful creatures that shares this wonderful marine.
And so the whale passed by with the gentlest disruption of space,
And I think it was amused when he saw the look on my face.
I sat there drained yet elated at this wonder I had shared
No camera or witness to observe the scene or to have cared
But I was there and my soul was touched like a child once again
To witness such beauty often befouled by the actions of men.
Now as I lolled towards twilight a strange sensation vibrated the boat,
It hummed an angels tune that rippled the canvass, with a glorious note.
darkness, like Jonah
held in the belly of the whale,
the end of a world;
closed-in time in dark spaces -
gives one, a hell of a time to think
in the belly of the whale
grew a whole world,
longer than 3 days and 3 nights,
the construction took finesse
and dare one say, a gauche fearlessness
to unravel that ball of light
eject it out of her universe
like a supernova,
like a titian haired prodigy,
far from easy, ostentum
to accumulate the life of it all
extend the regeneration in kind,
of a generational call -
each time an infant cries,
the occupant in an infant is re-borne;
they say, it will take
3 days and 3 nights -
to destroy it all -
the end of an unprepared
naive world -
who keeps tabs on the betting
of it all, the end of a world?
there’s always 2 sides to a game -
the dimensions, levels all endless,
split and perplex;
in your arms today, gone tomorrow,
the love and the purpose stolen,
the end of a world -
the cycle sometimes broken -
yet the perpetuation of life,
for all its worth -
continues,
light and dark
some more light,
some more dark,
some sit on the fence
in the middle, in-between;
the end of a world?
they say shooting nuclear rockets
into the Moon’s shadow
could be a valid reason
to collect unknown dark matter -
dark matter resides in us all -
why target the Moon and the Sun,
when we have bountiful supplies
within us all, human, here in this world?
all Jonahs, at some point, we are -
inside the belly of the whale
the internal infernal wars
of us all,
perhaps she thinks ...
she should cry like Jonah,
hmmn, not anymore buster, not anymore
she’s had a life time
to think on it all,
mull it all over -
more and more
the rise and the fall,
but, she doesn’t cry anymore
the philosophy
the mathematics
of the metaphysical
revolution takes over -
the futile banality of it all;
ostentum
the occurrences,
foreshadowing future events
borne from the belly of a whale
the ostentum,
goes about freely, now
watched from afar,
by the love of another,
uneclipsed,
in her own world
like a child
watched by a loving mother
Candide Diderot. ‘24
If a whale could tell
a whale of a tale
of the whale of a tail
of another whale.
It would be
a whale of a tell
of a whale of a tale
of a whale of a tail.
Humpback beauties call to their young
Communicating to calves so precious
Don't be so immediately audacious
You can wander, just don't go too long
Blubberous parents are there to keep them close
For companionship, warmth and learning
Send each other many signals, the little one is yearning
Because of the ocean they want to make the most
Eating their fill of plankton and krill
The smaller babe makes a hydro sonic point
To the older one who loves this oceanic joint
He doesn't want to hurt or kill
The humans who eavesdrop on their descant
Like some other whales with mammoth choppers
Accidentally maiming overboard fishermen and surfers
These watery wonders are appreciated that's all they ever want
Imbibing benevolent attention only for half a century
Deep sea divers first decided to bring down equipment
When he spoke his special song, they had no idea what the male bull meant
That day being approached he was so hesitant and on sentry
Because whalers before had waited for them to breach
The surface for mere minutes finding some oxygen
Finding instead a foreboding air of danger without question
So reclusive they remain, staying out of reach
Beaching is another danger when whales will cry
For help they so need it and must be rolled back out
A benign thing on sand dangerously sprawled about
Back into the depths it should be before it go dry
Nature's biggest mammals can never be at rest
In the wild and bountiful marine, using fluked tales to swim around
Whales have a lot to say, their stories abound
In civilized society with whale translators today we are at our best
Making compact discs of them, something special we can keep
The arias of the ocean composed of many shores
Whales speak responding in the ripples as prophets do with lore
It works quite well for some, to lull ourselves to sleep
We should always stay in assonance.
This may sound a tad bit strange
But I can promise you it's true
It all took place in the fishing town
Of Pleasant Valley one sunny afternoon
All of the sudden fishing line started popping
Out of the lake onto the shore
Not one or two lines, expect as you might
But lines tossed out by the score
Each and everyone had items attached
Some candy bars while others had cans of beer
There were even a few diamond rings
The kind the ladies love to wear
People in surrounding towns soon heard about
All the hub bub down at Pleasant Valley Lake
They all jumped in their cars and like shooting stars
Shot out across the state
They arrived there in time to each grab a line
And give that line a slight tug
Realizing to late, dragged into the lake
Rub a Dub Dub straight into the tub
Just as quick as this whale of a tale got started
All the fishing lines were drawn away
The only ones left were the few who got tossed back
Because the fish had reached their limit that day