Best Yawing Poems
Far away from this bonded crowd,
Far away from these layers of
shroud,
Oh wings of the air glide me away,
To the world, world above the
clouds.
To the giant mountains of mist,
Where sparkling houses of rain
will
be built,
World beneath where would be
moving,
And sun rays where will be cold
and soothing.
Where I won’t be bound by laws,
And I could speak freely about
the
things I love aloud,
Yeah to the world with cloud
above the clouds,
Where everything just everything
will be allowed.
Sliding on morning dews that stays
till night,
Diving in the night’s sky that looks
like morning light,
With no paths to follow,
I’ll glide free and fast,
Yawing, pitching, bouncing,
shouting,
Like the endless penumbra it’s
unknown where I’ll last
Yeah endless it is,
And it’s unknown where I’ll last
For Above the CloudsContest
I think I am late :-( posting this
anyways
Down the Primrose Path
Beautiful and pleasant summer evening
away from the madness among the yawing
breath of brilliant sunset. Slow ease moving
lilac mood of twilight, welcomes me dreaming.
Lost in my steps, neglecting to listen to
my inner wisdom, knowing the view.
I had walked through mingling hues of colour and fragrance
of the sprawling botanical gardens, before in silence.
Under a shaded distance, on a wooden bench, I had sat
and watched people interactions, it got to be a habit.
A bit insane forgetting the through unseen
hush whirs. It flutters its looks among green
ivy's deepest hollow, while lamppost light
cast shadows in darken absence, till morning light.
To be lost in steps, led down through a primrose
path clutch, to many unspoken crimes among those
that have happened within, not one knows.
2/6/2020
Pick A Title, Vol 13 - Lyric - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
3. Down The Primrose Path
Listen and you can hear the wind whisper
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.
Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved a real fear gripper.
Fast Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a thousand tons
With errant compass windjammer now strayed
Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns
The current wants to go counter clockwise
Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
Sails unable to give pull to the right
though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries
Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
Exactly where was their lost location
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots
Get back on course or it’s their damnation
No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.
New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying all things they refused to succumb.
Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea
Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape
West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.
Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles
I rather watch a kestrel to see
Her swoop and swirl
The skies invisible maze
To feed the inhabitants of her nest
Her milk of gratitude
Morning begins with a bright darkness
And the beckoning beaks for food
There is a wind ruffled mood
Yawing the feathers of the breast
Dawn is a ransom for the truth
Her flight negotiates
The billowing whirlwind
Of dust
Settled in the bowl of expectation
It is the African way.
Courage cannot wear shackles
When the protest comes
This transition
Have shaken superstructures
Not roots, but leaves
Any grafted branch can bear
We did not invent this way
This democracy
Churning chaos out of selfishness
This way of bridging men's hope
This inclusion that is exclusive
This decomposition of old bargaining
Of parables under ancient trees
Strange shifts happen
When we disrobe our cloth
Baring ourselves of familiar primitives
Was not the old ways good enough
Why did we not transform it
While the time was transforming us
Into spectacles
Since we did not want to be invisible still
Will we transform what we
Have borrowed
Into a resemblance of our sense
Of equality, belonging and value?
The base fumbles into sectors
Carved by streets intersecting villages
Divided by self interests
More than any division of our origin
We who came from Jamaica
Barbadoes, Trinidad
And Guyana
Leaving Elmina, Shama, and Sekondi behind
Cattled in the coral that was not pearl
Permitted by a sympathy of the Unites states
Came here forming a new state
Out of forgotten memories
Of lost addresses and broken grief
Of kinship disillusionment
Called this Liberia
Clothing the construction of autonomy
With the identity of freedom.
Is it surprising then this tension
This fractious existence
In a dark forest of genocide
That each sit not well with self as stranger
For this group have no social memory
Beyond the coming of the ships
Until a common bond is forged
From the sorrow of years of fire
To form a new collective identity
Nothing speaks to the deep insecurity
Where there is a need for belonging
Like the suckle of the milking breast
Soft on the flesh of the tongue
With kindness
Telling us our faults
Teaching us to be brothers again
Telling us how to feel the humanity
In our forgotten hearts
Straining to build out of the pain.
1.
the crystallised handkerchief
of one’s span of life
your handloom-bird brings with its lips
some musical notation of the nimbus
holding that waves within the heart
how much growth does occur
to the sandal-line of a man
or
it does
fall
the blades of grasses are known well
to be vegetarian
the eyes of the reindeer
have cent per cent smelling of fish
then what translation would you suggest
for the fingers of wild titlark
the shirt
they have put on the body of this night-stone
what best word-meaning does match it
but land-lotus
2.
i’ve re-constructed
all the trees and plants
with
the dry straws grass twigs collectively
fetched by beak
and the monsoon
as well
the full-brim of vodka
is deep in the palms
in that moonlight
a sleeping-tablet
does take a dip-swimming
within her enfolding
there may be the whole works of rabindranath
from the breathing of cd-player
spreads around
the sound of horse’s hoof
there is the bed-sheet of dusts
on the anger
kept bound within the cover of rexin
it’s true
our vineyards are still
prone to stones
then it does not seem
that the boiled moon sets
into the tea-cup
3
in your songs
still lies
immense green
the bed-room is too
very bright
the walnuts
walking along the path
that touches the rain-shore
make me think likely
on a sunday
kept in an envelop
when the bedcover of the early morning
speaks frankly
what’s in its mind
to the soap-water
the ears of the horse
in the wall-calendar
look very crazy
i can remember
one day
the sun-boats would tear their wrappers
their whisper would want to discover
the inclinations and thoughts of the creepers and herbs
possessed by the lady-volunteers
their yawing would notice
so many unused handlooms
taking a run-away on the clouds
now
would the cat under the beautiful jersey
finally think of waking up
then i’ll go
to deposit the clever apples
along with
all the triangles accompanying it
to the nearest cold-storage
Ghost Ship
Benjamin Briggs a master, with three previous commands
Took over the ill fated ship, which was to prove to be his last stand.
The ship originally named the Amazon, was 103 feet long
She was listed as a half-brig, and everything seemed to go wrong.
She had a lot of accidents and passed through many owners hands,
Eventually she turned up in New York, for sale and a new command.
She was sold and refitted; the owners bought her for a song.
Then they had her re-registered, to maybe help right the wrongs.
Captain Briggs his wife and child, in eighteen seventy two
Set sail on November the seventh, plus an extra seven man crew.
The cargo was seventeen thousand barrels, of raw American alcohol
They set off for Genoa Italy, not forgetting his daughters’ toys and doll.
On December the fifth half way between the Azores and Portugal
The Dei Gratia spied a brigantine, but it didn’t look right at all.
He watched it for two hours because he recognised the ship
The brig, that he had been in dock with, and he knew Ben commanded it.
It was sailing all wrong, it was yawing on the sea.
Captain Moorhouse knew Captain Briggs, was the captain he should see,
They took a boat out to the ship, and boarded her when they could,
On climbing aboard they found the ship to be empty, but all sound and good.
There was plenty of food and drink, but all the ships papers were gone
The ships clock was not functioning, but of the compliment*, there was none.
There should have been a lifeboat, but that was not there now
Just a frayed rope hanging in the sea and they didn’t know why or how.
Captain Moorhouse was perturbed knowing his friend Briggs to be in distress
He took the ship into to tow, it was named the “Mary Celeste.”
~GG~ 2011©
Compliment The number of crew on board a ship*
To the common folk the life of a merchant may seem to be a dull and boring one.
But I declare it is not, it is a life full of many wondrous adventures.
For a young elf like me quick and light on the feet and easy to hide it is the perfect life.
It is also a life that gives many stories to tell and today I will tell you one.
I was far outside of my realm, in a new dangerous place I had never been before.
A land full of monsters and many other mysterious dangers lurking around every corner.
Traveling through the forests running as fast as I could, trying to reach my destination and hoping not to be discovered.
I ran out of a world of trees to be greeted by wondrous and peaceful new road full of green fields as far as my eyes could see.
Built in the hillsides was a lovely quaint with a large oval stone door surrounded by bushes with low windows on both sides showing in.
On the door transcribed in a glowing green bright light, the etching stated.
"This is a wizard door
if you are not a wizard
you cannot open it."
A great curiosity took over my body and I reached out to turn the knob of the large stone door.
I did not open, It was not as if this door was locked, my hand simply phased through the door as if it was a phantom.
I stepped into the bushes and peered through the window and what I saw before me I could not believe.
Five full grown wizards dressed in their mage outfits with large pointy hats, with large untidy monstrous beards and they appeared to be as tall as the tallest trees.
They sat around a large table enjoying tea and cake, playing board games, sharing tales of many grand adventures and using their wands to practice spells with one another.
One of the wizards came stomping up the stairs, I leaped quickly hiding in the bushes.
He came out of the door and stood raising his hands, stretching and yawing.
A real wizard stood near me an ordinary elf but, he did not stay long as soon as he came out he rushed back into the door to continue with his party affairs.
I rushed out of the bushes and continued running down the road in order to make my delivery, as I ran only one thing was on my mind.
The great stories I could tell my grandchildren, such as the time an ordinary young elf like me witnessed a great wizard party.
A few minutes ago, a loud text alert startled
me and woke me up, and yawing
I fell off my comfortable, canopy bed:
a heartbreaking message appeared
on my black IPhone, I started shaking,
" Pretty boy, I'm leaving for sunny California,
it's about time you had a night of insomnia! "
Little sleep I got and screaming
my nightmare got really worse:
" Did she really wanted to forget
me along with her birthday,
not thinking of that red rose
I would have brought today? "
I refused to hear her untrue voice...
but her sad words kept on echoing!
Coughing out a poisonous disease,
I felt relieved from the sharp pain...
one last thing I had to do to make
her goodbye melt quicker than any snowflake
by opening the secret box so cold to the touch
and unearth: a sentimental treasure
never darkened by a speck of dust;
I found no interest or pleasure in reading
those long letters slowly turned by the April breeze...
awesome words of past deceit that no longer please!
I have bought a ticket to LA to take her back by being cool;
by morning, I will be flying with the iron will not to beseech;
no, my arrival won't be a pleasant surprise by any means!
She thought I would have given up on her like any other fool;
no, sweetheart you are the gold that still lures and glitters,
you are the beautiful glow of the sunset over Newport Beach!
Entered in Laura Lee's contest,
" Combination Of Three Words "
Written on 12/ 31/ 2015
COPYRIGHT 2014 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
POETIC LYRICS BY THOMAS L.H. ANDRESS
(Dedicated to ALL THOSE NANCIE KRANGES!)
Bust it!
This here's a TEMPO...for ALL THOSE FELLAS...trying to do what
ALL THOSE LADIES...been trying to TELL US WHAT TO DO!
HEY...BIG SHOT...WANNA CHANCE?
Rolling...Rolling...LEFT-TO-RIGHT-OR...RIGHT-TO-LEFT!
PITCHED-RIGHT...PITCHED-WRONG!
Left-to-Right...OR...Right-to-Left...OR
LEFT-BEHIND!
Are-Ya...TOO-HEAVY...or...TOO-LIGHT?
Grab-a...CUP-OR-BOWL...of...RICE-KRISPIES!
SHAPED...RIGHT-or-WRONG!
Mars-Bars...AND...MARS-AND-STARS...at-corner
BARS-IN-CARS...Cars-and-Bars!
MALTS-AND-FLOATS...or...FLOATS-AND-BLOATS!
BLOATING...LOUTS!
JUST-LOATS!
They're...MEL-LOW-AND-YEL-LOW...or...Just-BANANA-CRAZY!
SO...JUST-BE-MEL-LOW...AND-NOT
Just...Y.E.L.L.O.W.!
YEL-LOW!
Rockets-and-Stars...BUSTING-AND-GOLDEN...STARS!
AND...B-E-Y-O-N-D!
Making-Time...AND...SELLING-TIME!
CHEATING...Time...FATHER-TIME!
He's...YAWNING...YAWING-AND-LAUGHING!
So-SKIP-IT...JUST-SKIP-IT...SKIPPING-LEFT-TO-RIGHT!
AND-RIGHT-TO-LEFT!
You're-Sliding...First-to-Second...Second-to-HOME...OR
FIRST-TO-HOME!
POPPING-AND-HEART-STOPPING!
Snow-Cones...In-The-Winter...OR-SUM-MER!
When-Falling-to-First...or...in-A-LIGHT-OR-COLD...FALL!
And-Mallows...MAL-LOWS!
AND-BEARS...YUMMY-AND-GUMMY!
Yummy-and-Gummy...FOR-YA-TUMMY!
Isn't-IT...JUST-YUMMY?
PITCH-IT-RIGHT...AND...NOT-LIGHT!
QUIT-STALLING...S-T-A-L-L-I-N-G!
Are-Ya-Going-Ta...LIGHT-THE-BOARDS...or-are-ya-JUST-BORING!
JUST...LEFT-BEHIND?
Left-to-Right...and...RIGHT-TO-LEFT...MODELS-are-SMILING!
FLASHING...32!
THIRTY-TWO...WHITE-CAPS!
With...DARK-LASHES-IN...DARK-GLASSES!
WOW...LIKE-WOW!
Glasses-in-the-Dark...LIKE-WOW...THAT'S...JUST-WOW!
Left-to-Right...and...Right-to-Left...THAT'S-EXIT...STAGE-LEFT!
Don't-Be...LEFT-BEHIND!
Are-Ya...RIDING-HIGH-TO-FAME...or-Just...SHAMED-TO...LEFT-STAGE?
Like a mess of hooting school kids freed for vacation,
They come honking and scolding
Long before you see them they come honking and scolding
Hidden from sight by leafy trees,
They are loudly scolding, urging, bragging,
“Get flapping”. “My turn to lead.” “Your turn to lead. “Let Fergus lead,”
I imagine.
When at last overhead I can see them and they are honking, without rhythm.
Honking, and forming lines;
A long line at first, a perfect line,
Then a splinter slides astride
And two perfect lines form, a skewered vee.
A flying wing it is now, yawing left, and then yawing right,
Sensing the wind’s direction, its velocity,
Looking for a helping wind. Looking for a lift.
And honking and scolding.
They pass behind more leafy trees and they are gone,
Still honking and scolding,
Still searching for the streaming air.
And going southward.
The Linda-Marie
I venture on down to the harbor, smelling the salt of the sea
Where waiting in anticipation is my sloop the Linda-Marie
In silence she sits while I board her, and cast her lines aside
Like a colt running free in the meadow, she strains to be untied
Slowly we move through the water, heading on out to the sea
I thrill at the freedom that grips me, on the sloop called the Linda-Marie
The wind is stiff from the starboard, the breakwater now far astern
The ocean is waiting to greet us, we hear the shrill call of a tern
As we address a headwind, filling out the sails
The Linda-Marie meets the challenge, as against the whitecaps she rails
Yawing to hold her position, she rises to meet each new swell
We hold our course at eight knots, a speed she handles well
Time I'm afraid is fleeting, and to soon we must return
Ending our adventure, once again the ocean spurned
We bump against the pilings, making sure she can't break free
I relish the time spent together, just me and the Linda-Marie
skipping ...leaping from rock to rock
along the edge of the sea
my head in the clouds
my soul alight
my blond hair ..a golden river flowing through the fingers of the air
behind me
fragile brittle careful teetering on flat cement sidewalks
the distance of the cracks seems dark and cavernous....Grand Canyon like
a yawing ...hungry abyss with fingered tendrils reaching for the toes of my shoes
grasping at my glass ankles
ravenous ...longing to trip break pull me down
those rocks...those great granite boulders are mocking mountains now
YOU SPEAK CORRECTLY
I heard from the beginning,
From the yawing of the sun in the morning,
“We must unite, strong becoming”
You speak correctly.
I smelled out of yesterday night
Before the outer call of the birds
Astonishing the reddish of the sun set
“We must be free, democratic state becoming”
You speak correctly.
You beaten my ear
As you was eager letting me knowing;
You are from the civil wars’ well of SUDAN
Hesitating on the innocent majorities executions
The fight of elders, lead the children cry
Don’t blind your eyes in reality, you have to speak correctly.
Starlit skies
pouring pep
A cozy aura
rides the seas ~ from the Northern yonder
Keeping time with the waves, her knack
Yawing, her sways wake another bay
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(10/2/20: ’00 Camano Troll. DMS 9/28/20)
I don’t know
I don’t know
But if I know
I’m not sure
Lose of school uniforms and bags
Feces in bowels, plates, and pans
Are they going to study building?
Or we are going to seat yawing?
I don’t know
But if I know
I’m not sure
Mother! The wife of my father
You do all to me, by tongue and medicine
You’ve my fresh but my soul is for God
I’m the only sister, the only brother
I can react like kerosene
I do for good, do me for bad
The sun soon will judge your ignorance
I don’t know
But if I know
I’m not sure.