Best Yacht Poems
I went fishing last week with a banker
On an impressive one hundred foot yacht
But when I joked and called it a tanker
I fathomed my real big fat mouth was caught
I threw out my line, hooked one, and yanked her
But it snapped my feeble rod like a twig
Although what elevated my rancor
Was that the fish got my favorite jig
Therefore, I tried once again to shank her
With that large hook used to lift bales of hay
But in this case that didn’t help bank her
Coz once again the darn thing got away
So I stuck some bait onto the anchor
And then dropped it into the deep blue sea
But that beast pulled the yacht down and sank her
And that’s the last time that he fished with me.
David Fisher October 1, 2015 Trashed #3, sponsor, Broken Wings
I’d extend an invitation
to all in the congregation
through this speech of inspiration
which is quite a compilation
yet I expect no adulation
and no gest of adoration
for in my own estimation
it’s a trifle occupation
clearing out the obfuscation
of a simple predication
o’er the course of this oration
through the rhyme of this dictation
See it’s a feebly built narration,
or an errant adaptation
sitting ‘top a weak foundation
grounded on some old quotation
writ in archaic notation
which seems to bear no strong relation
to the current held fixation
on the poorly built translation
which is more of a mutation
than an actual citation.
Now to give a brief summation
I will fight off the temptation
and my present inclination
to continue this vocation
and I’ll risk your irritation
with this act of abdication
and upset your expectation
by using this line instead
to add a bit of variation
as the only deviation
in my final recitation.
Now please stifle your elation
as I offer resignation
for I’m out of medication
and I fear the obligation
to interpret revelation
meant to spell out your salvation
is to my great consternation
causing meal regurgitation
and worse stomach ulceration
though at best the correlation
is just my imagination.
So I’m taking a vacation
to a tropical location
lost in wild vegetation
where I’ll watch in adoration
those grass skirts in their gyration
and sip drinks of fermentation
to avoid the dehydration
that always comes by deprivation
or by over-conservation.
If it’s any consolation,
after lots of vaccination
I’ll pursue my destination
through a week of navigation
on a vessel of flotation
as my mode of transportation
and forego all aviation.
So I plead, dear congregation
understand my situation
‘spite my freedom from taxation,
just suppress your indignation
toward my dreams of recreation
though I have no explanation
save this current presentation.
And though there is no valuation
for true acts of consecration,
after much consideration
if you’d show your dedication
with a generous donation,
I could use the insulation.
Amen.
bayboats purse seine whey
journey yearlong gay
laddy inured dry up
haughty yachty yea
mildred mayhem dewlap
naughty jaunty jay
sons caught in car capers
haughty yachty yea
vicar baking in butterfat
orphan boy screwed in larder
bluejay frollic jane
and a haughty yachty yea
bombs in bay bombard
dickson singsick cockpit
french chicks s’envoient en l'air*
oh a haughty yachty yea
idols jailed in temples
choked in garlandy incense
priestly eyedance pose
yes a haughty yachty yea
masons’ mildewy masters
with compass stone and pilasters
plan solomon’s might on earth
yea sing haughty yachty yea
royal houses love in stables
lords and ladies love in regalia
loving ones love in limbo
cry haughty yachty yea
dote on damsels in december
hey yachty haughty yea
make them deliver in september
ho yickety yackety yea eh
* "s'envoient en l'air": French, literally, for "throwing legs up in the air"; in France - guess, if you can - this phrase means: ???
©T.Wignesan - Paris, May 4, 1997
[from the collection : longhand notes: a binding of poems. Paris: 1999]
LET'S CHARTER A YACHT AND GO WHERE IT'S HOT
AND PEOPLE ARE NOT IN THE WAY
WE'LL START OFF IN GREECE WITH CHAMPAGNE AND CASIS
THEN SAIL UP TO NICE, ST. TROPEZ
AND IF MISTRAL SHOULD BLOW WE'LL JUST GO BELOW
AND DO WHAT'S APPROPOS BELOW DECK
THEN DINGHY ASHORE OR WINDSURF SOME MORE
MAYBE SCUBA TILL FOUR ON A WRECK
WE'LL SINK WITH THE SUN INTO AFT CABIN FUN
HAVE DINNER AT ONE NEATH THE STARS
THE HAMMOCK IS NICE WITH BAILEYS ON ICE
WILL A REMY SUFFICE? IS THAT MARS?
HIT THE DISCOS AT TWO WITH THE CAPTAIN AND CREW
AND DO SHOTS, LOCAL BREW, THEN WE'LL DANCE
AND SWEAT CHEEK TO CHEEK TILL THE SUN TAKES A PEAK
AND SLEEP LAYS US DOWN IN IT'S TRANCE
MALTA, IBIZA, MAJORCA, MINORCA
CUETA, CUBRERA, FORMENTERA
LET'S RISE ABOUT NOON IF THAT'S NOT TOO SOON
SOMETHING SOFT, CLAIRE DE LUNE, THEN A BATH
WE'LL GET SKIN TO SKIN, BUBBLES UP TO OUR CHIN
WITH A PERMANENT GRIN, WHAT A LAUGH
THEN AFTER WE'RE FED WITH MIMOSAS IN BED
AND A TOAST TO THE MED UDERWAY
IT'S TIME I BELIEVE TO HAVE YOU CONCIEVE
ON AN ISLAND THAT ENDS IN AN A
MALTA, IBIZA, MAJORCA, MINORCA
CUETA, CUBRERA, FORMENTERA
SHOULD IT BE A BORE, A MEDITERREAN SHORE
AND WE DON'T FEEL LIKE MORE OF THE SAME
WE'LL HAVE TO TAKE HEART AND FLY TO ST. BARTS
AND PLAY THE CARIBBEAN GAME
BARBUDA, ANTIGUA, SABA, ANGUILLA
ST. LUCIA, CULEBRA, DOMINICA
GRENADA, TORTOLLA, ESPANIOLA
CUBA CULEBRA ANGUILLA
LETS CHARTER A YACHT AND GO WHERE IT'S HOT
AND PEOPLE ARE NOT IN THE WAY
CAUSE IT'S TIME I BELIEVE TO HAVE YOU CONCIEVE
ON AN ISLAND THAT ENDS IN AN A
The ship is always loaded
With misty looking folks
Who fill the decks and cabins
Wrapped in dreamers’ cloaks
No one lies too far
Or near the closest sleeper
And being all together
Just helps the dreams go deeper
Waves lap in steady rhythm
Against the wooden sides
Winds blow with gentle coolness
Matching ocean tides
The number of the dreamers
Doesn’t matter much
Their bodies lie in safety
While their spirits strive
To touch
The endless
Place of future, past or
Even never
And anything is possible
- No limits whatsoever
The dreamers’ yacht rides
Up and down
As wind blows
As water flows
The dreaming yacht goes
Back and forth
As water blows
As wind flows
And so it goes
And so it goes
All the night long
Until the sun comes up
And wakes them
With a sweet good morning song
And somehow all the dreamers
Rise from their own beds
On land or on the sea
With no memory in their heads
Of
Riding safely; warmly
Up and down
Back and forth
As wind blows
As water flows
In syncopated rhythm
As water blows;
As wind flows
And so it goes
And so it goes
People live their daily lives
Never knowing others
But somehow feel connections
As sisters and as brothers
It may be that they’re fellow
Dreamers
Whose spirits sleep together
Every night on that sweet boat
In soft angelic weather
Come sail with me once more dear friends, to ply the winds to comply.
To hoist the sails, pull on the sheets, to steer the yacht driving through waves.
Together, we make a great team, tackling and taming riled wild seas.
A tom bell version of "The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam";
(In hopes of enticing our beloved Ruby Metzger back to Soup)
Omar K. always
had his way...
Multi-millions
from Arab oil,
He sat back
and self-pampered
He'd never
had to toil...
Money bought
his every whim
Saw an electric razor
that satisfied him
Bought the company,
Went on TV,
to tell the world,
"Hey, I'm rich,
this is Me!!"
One day on "Soup"
By Ruby Metzger,
he found a poem
that pleased him so
He decided he
wanted her
for his home...
Now Ruby had
her own plans
that included not
his "desire glands"
She hated heat
and the world
of sand and oil,
And a society where
women were but property
of men Royal
And camels and goats,
did not her please,
And she really hated
those damn sand fleas
But Omar did
his best to woo
This poetic woman
who's heart was true
Omar bought her
a slendid yacht
One capable of
35 or more knot
But Ruby had the
final word,
When she told him;
"Boy you're thick!!!
I told you once,
I get sea-sick!!!!"
Let’s sail away to Acapella,
A celebrity haunt owned by Penn and Teller.
I shall act as your prince, you’ll be Cinderella
When we’re sat on a beach in Acapella.
It’s not as sexy as Cannes or as dowdy as Rhyl
But their choirs and ensembles will give you a thrill,
Acapella compares well to old Casablanca,
As you will observe once we have dropped anchor.
Their libraries don’t hold any musical score,
Acoustic folk singers are considered a bore,
All keyboards and trombones were sold overseas
And whistles restricted to football referees.
So you won’t hear the bagpipes of Kenneth McKellar
Or repetitive bass notes plucked by Paul Weller.
Your voice will entrance all the ladies and fellas
Once we’ve moored in the harbour of Acapella’s.
There fishermen bring ashore haddock and bream
Having sung shanties as a well-rehearsed team,
The salty sea breeze gives their voices a rasp
And the youngest amongst them let out a gasp!
Melodic and manly, the crews ride the waves,
Proud of their seamanship, masters not slaves,
They heed the advice of their mothers and aunties
But rarely acknowledge the source of their shanties.
Once a solitary busker was found in a yacht
And by all accounts he deserved what he got,
He was forced down the plank at the tip of a sword
Then his vintage viola was flung overboard!
On the pier you’ll find orators and callers at bingo,
But no jukebox is pumping out John, Paul or Ringo.
Pop or rock music gives locals the creeps,
It’s no wonder that George’s guitar gently weeps.
So, if Customs Control takes your squeezebox or trumpet
Don’t seek compensation, you’ll just have to lump it;
Those instruments go to a processing plant
Because singers are welcome but musicians aren’t.
We shall seek out the nightlife in numerous bars
Where the locals all sing without playing guitars,
Dodge the Lambrettas in quaint cobbled alleys,
Then stride across hills and along peaceful valleys.
So, if you’re tired of concertos or singles by Queen
Book a cruise to a place where they’re considered obscene,
It’s a magical island owned by Penn and by Teller -
The remote principality of Acapella.
So let us sail forth across the briny
In a luxury yacht - well furnished and shiny
To where your vocal range will be valued quite highly,
And you won’t have to sit through Baba O’Riley.
Chiseled bone fibre silences white noise water
Shiv splits through throat, jugular scissored
Flung spray fusillade's lain flat slaughter
Bluster bullseye stabs canvas concave
Albatross follow our sharp slipstream
Wind vane spins blur invisible
Dolphin pod adjacent symbol
Ludicrous becomes our lucid dream
Green glaze wake calms crazed waves
Plunge smashes panic, pindrop pools surface
Instinctive dive into icy effervescence
Jolts flailing heart buoyed purpose
Castaways tack to breeze's best advantage
Seahorse spawns, cloud coral hammock
Hull pointed toward demand
Relentless racing hour hand
Gathered globe gauges chances gigantic
Skippers puncture tides, shark agile voyage
20th February
Triumphant Felicity
A
Small
YACHT
SAILING
In the wide
Ocean, sails
free, flapping
In the sea breeze
Inching forward slow
For catching tons of fish
Wind propelling
Three men travelling on the yacht, letting the sea breeze hit their faces
Facing the sun, they forge ahead, toiling to keep the yacht afloat
Fishing over, they turn towards home in their small yacht
15th February 2023
It bled belly up
my mother-in-law’s
‘yach-et’
Delirious
I forgot to
bury the hatch-et
A man, more patrician than not,
Of folly, he had quite a lot.
Stentorian voice,
But words of poor choice,
A sot, not a yacht, had he bought.
Palm trees, laying in the ocean
Honey, save me, save the mermaids
Pin-up girls are laughing from heaven
Golden water horses are spinning ‘round us
Oh no devil is on our side
He stole that American Atlantic Blue Yacht
Oh he knows how to be my man
You are my street racer
Midnight blue answer
Gimme Disney dollars
Cristals and bourbon yo
Creatures from the black lagoon
Burning roses in my room
Oh my God i saw a boom
You know, I have got a crush on you
Swimming in an American Atlantic Blue Yacht with you
We are totally fine
I don’t believe in turquoise stars anymore
You are my street racer
Midnight blue answer
Gimme Disney dollars
Cristals and bourbon yo
Creatures from the black lagoon
Burning roses in my room
Oh my God i saw a boom
The woman you love is dead
Oh she’s so fake
But she’s obsessed with your races
Drive her one more time, you know she loves it
You are my street racer
Midnight blue answer
Gimme Disney dollars
Cristals and bourbon yo
Creatures from the black lagoon
Burning roses in my room
Oh my God i saw a boom
With a deliberate shake of her long back curls
She strode right past him
Not acknowledging his smile
Exuding indifference
And a certain air of pride
“Could you please tell me what things
are suitable for vegetarians?”
She asked the attendants at the table
A mellow voice to her left answered
“I can tell you….I own this place
And I checked the menu personally.”
Ready to give a
“Mind your own business” retort
She turned around and looked up into
The most dazzling
SKY blue eyes
She had EVER seen
And with that
She simply gulped down
All the mean words
Piled high on her tongue
Just as though they were
One of those tasty little appetizers
She’d been asking about
“May I?”
He offered his arm
And took her round the table
Pointing out what she should sample
Then he had one of his attendants
Escort her to her table
As he had to see to an urgent matter
She was furious with herself
Who the hell did he think he was...
Trying to reduce her to a shy, tongue tied teenager
With his honed charm and refined bearing
How dare he flirt when she was sure he had a wife
Spying on him...
Some goddess of beauty
Just waiting for him to make a wrong move
So she could swoop down
And stake her claim
Showing all around
That SHE was the ideal woman
And deserving of this male specimen
of perfection...
She tried to calm down
The Mediterranean sparkled
In the moonlight
The sound of the sea
The smell of the salty air
Worked their magic in her
As the breeze cooled her face
It was a dreamy summer night
Almost unreal...
The lights on the shore twinkled
The pool looked so inviting
If only she could dip in
And be where she was most comfortable
For she had mastery over water...
She let the tension seep out of her
The graduates were causing a stir
There on the outdoor dance floor
She smiled at her niece and gave her a hug
Despite herself, and her worry about not fitting in
She was having a good time
If only she could wipe out the memory
Of those sparkling blue eyes…
TO BE CONTINUED…
Eileen Manassian Ghali
As the light turned red, she reached for the door handle
About to jumpt out of the car
When all of a sudden
He slammed on the brakes
Reaching passed her,
He pulled the opening door shut.
She felt his weight against her chest
His close proximity unnerved her
And she pressed as far back into her seat as she dared
Hoping to create space, so he wouldn’t sense
The mad pounding of her heart.
“That was not wise,” he said. His voice was not angry, but tired, sad.
“You could have gotten hurt if a motorcyclist was passing by.”
“I’m a big girl,” she shot back hotly. “I think I can handle myself.”
He sighed..
“Listen, whether you like it or not
Or you find my presence repulsive or not,
I promised your brother to get you home safely
And I will honor my word.”
The light changed, and he continued driving,
But not before he said softly, “I’m sorry I reacted strongly.
My wife died in a car crash. It was avoidable.”
She could hear the anguish in his voice
And as she turned to look at him
She noticed that the cloud of memory
Was producing rain out of those sky blue eyes
“I’m...I'm so sorry,” she whispered.
Without even thinking…
She reached across and touched his arm.
He looked at her
His expression pained and yet,
There was a tenderness in his eyes
He seemed to be looking right into her heart
Knowing about her pain
Reading her frustration with disappointed love
But how could he know
“Love like that comes once in a lifetime,” she whispered
Shocked at her impulsiveness
She looked down at her hands
“You are so like her,” his voice was pained.
This was one confession she did not want to hear
Nor would she absolve it.
“You have her spirit: carefree, bold, passionate, full of life, wild, and”…..
He looked straight at her, “amazingly beautiful.”
He pulled into her street and parked the car outside
Her apartment building.
Before she could thank him, he was out of the car.
Coming to her side, he opened the door
Gave her his hand and helped her out.
“This is not necessary, really,” she protested.
“I’m a man of my word. I said I’d see you home safely.
I won’t leave till you are inside.”
Eileen Manassian Ghali
To be continued....