Sat on the ferryboat, up on the top,
Soaking the sun and the breeze.
Seeing the city a different way,
Like a tourist, there’s so much to please.
Cool buildings to spot and New Yorkers about,
On foot or on bikes or on skates,
With gardens and trees, dogs on leashes, as well
As the seagulls aloft with their mates.
The palpable buzz of a sweet sunny day
As the ferry skips over the waves
Casts a magical spell on the riders, which I
Would imagine most everyone craves.
A ship requires a captain, and a rudder
uncharted seas - courage, and a shudder
Picking up speed, egos unchecked
tempt fate, shipwreck
No glamour here in the South Bay
where function and industry reign
just an occasional seagull is seen
gliding over the steel grid power lines.
The daily westerly winds whistle
swaying a small fleet of sailboats
buoys bob along a mariner’s course
as he navigates the currents.
Ships of all shapes and sizes
quietly line the edges of the bay
docked or moored in place
patiently waiting their turn at sea.
An unearthly silence lingers
around the salt flats that arise
staking their claim at the south shore
a monument to the “bitter end”.
It is peaceful here…without pretense
where the hum of traffic is heard
endlessly moving along an offramp
while the random seagull flies above.
With one breast
you nursed him, Amazon.
The other, cut away,
to aim at males.
The hours passed
with bated breath,
listening to your moans.
As you fed,
you killed,
and for another prey
you hoisted your sails.
You carried him in a sling
and went hunting.
One day, on a boat in the river,
you laid him down
and sailed far away.
With one breast
you nursed him, one-breasted—
and he became a man,
Sovereign of One,
with corrupted ideals.
Theres a flood today in Crick.'
Uncontrolled migrants; on the uptick'
There is football till morning.'
When they normally were snoring
And drunks in their, park being sick.'
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under your banner
my love loses all manner
...............of restraint...............
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""""""""""""""""it's like riding"""""""""""""""
"""""a boat in rough sailing"""""
""through a calm sea"""
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~°~~~°~~~°"~""~"°~~°~~~~~°~
there’s no true lovers
but just lovers who never change
so at this party morning
we create a situation
and you join us for the wedding
I just want to hold closer
I just want to whisper
a song to you
I’m finding
a strange way
to love people
all directions from the same place
don’t lead to the same place
that’s why you’re a butterfly
and I, a moth, but one family
the abandoned lawn
but I care about you
you need to know your battles
and how to choose your directions
When ideas are locked in a cage,
The bot frees poetry of its rage,
Like analgesics on a fresh wound—
A turbulent sea where pains are drowned.
The goal’s not to write, but to refine,
To make rhythms, forms, and each word align;
Quick to shape poems to perfection,
Bringing finesse to art’s reflection.
But its pen drips with glib emotions,
It revels in stale, putrid notions,
It loots old clichés in broad daylight,
With its informants on every site.
It pours in all ears its tone-deafness,
For its inkwell is void of freshness;
From the poems of the past it steals,
And copyright claims trail its cold heels.
Far better—a creative ally,
With clear, firm bounds to which all comply—
Than crowned as a human replacement,
Or seeking the poet’s mind displacement.
Tie me like Ulysses,
I don’t want
run to death
hearing those songs!
Bind me Lord!
But you keep on singing!
The sins are not yours
for the shores I crave
or the eyes I seek
or the thrills of my restless soul!
I beg you to keep on singing.
Rowing Through The Pain
Row, Row, Row your boat gently down the stream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily life is but a dream
Row, Row, Row your boat why can’t I scream
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily perfections not how it seems
Row, Row, Row your boat forever never ends
Merrily, Merrily, Merrily, Merrily my pain never mends
Over, Over, Over again until I go insane
Barely, Barely, Barely, Barely rowing through the pain
No, No, No you don’t go crying a river of tears
Hear me, Hear me, Hear me, Hear me crying for all these years
The calendar showed January 1899,
there were only a few hours of real daylight
He set out in his poor man's boat, early dawn
Snow and ice did not melt until mid-May
The cold bit his face and hands,
he had to try to obtain some food on the table
All they had was flatbread,
oats and water porridge
A sudden storm forced him to seek shelter
He had to be master of his own destiny
Strong east wind
prevented him from going ashore
The best possibility was to anchor
in a cove sheltered from the wind
Grandfather's killick saved him
from drowning that day
Lucid refractions prance in this day's gloaming
Window panes sway in play to each heave and hoe
Stirred by haunting echoes of distant loons wailing
My gaze awakens in sheets that float her still to and fro
Shimmering, the surface murmurs...Take the Plunge
A primal beckoning that whispers to us each by name
Push the door, step up to the docks edge...Take the Lunge
Into freshwater so translucent, it hides no shame
Here rest my oars.
A killick thrown to the school of fishes,
To still my boat from the peering waves.
Fishy-wishy scatter as water splatters,
Like wood chips flying when the pickaxe strikes.
A ship draws near, but my killick blocks its kiss—
Its stale mouth might stagger my rest,
And send my gathered fish fleeing the net.
Much of the mud my killick swallows,
So the wave won’t tug the boat an inch.
More students from the school must reach my net.
A long wait beneath the twilight-dimming sky.
Yet the fish market waits for a refill.
The cool breeze begs my eyes to close,
But hunger bites hard with its mocking teeth—
My killick just has to steady the float.
Remember as a child playing cards,
Go Fish?
A child's life and fishing go together,
dreaming about catching the big one.
How big is the big one?
At what age will they catch it?
Will it be from land or from a boat?
Yes a child will dream about the big one,
the big one being on the end of their fishing line.
One Day ~ Some Day.
Out on the ocean drifting, alone
Thinking about- "His long and wonderful life"
But with every wave pain he endures seeps deeper
While sounds of the white caps help him to forget
The moon turns the tide to high before dark
And so, he ponders; it's time...and he jumps!
Specific Types of Boat Poems
Definition | What is Boat in Poetry?
Poems Related to Boat
dinghy, canoe, sailboat, yacht, craft, barge, raft, ship, catamaran, schooner, bottom, hulk, launch, skiff, bucket, bark, ark, gondola, lifeboat, ketch, steamboat, dory, pinnace, scow, sloop, tub, bateau,