Boatmen Poems

Blissful Water

Written: July 04, 2023
______________________________________________________________

A respected river, your holiness sublime.
Purifies within if we let your essence seep.
From the powerful mountains, you climb
Pious and deep, it cures thirst spirits, creep

We all joined in a loud wave of ovation.
Farmers and anglers exploit it commonly.
Before you slowly dyke into the ocean.
Your pristine oceans are just heavenly.

Favoring even those who have sinned.
I've begun to write a tale of keen people.
Your purity is lovely, a river so revered.
You arose from the depths of a steeple. 
 
Quenching the thirst of souls, from the abyss.
Peasants and boatmen, united in bliss,
Your presence is a source of joy and peace.
As we gather along your banks, we find release.

But as you journey toward the endless sea,
Our hearts ache, as we agnize you must leave.
Yet your holiness remains, forever to foresee
Waters, so pure, cleanse our souls, we believe.

A Night In Paris

spires stretch heavenward in a twilight sky
crimson hues and nighttime blues do battle
as people lope lazily over a dusky bridge
like cattle with cameras;
snapping the domed limestone giant

below, boatmen skim across a shimmering mirror
reflecting fragmented moments
cast down from the world above
floating like flotsam; lifeblood
coursing through the city’s stone heart

amid those masses, we watched
the shadows grow steadily longer
and balls of soft lamplight glow gently brighter
until, suspended in the darkening air
they floated like no post was there

then, just like that -
the city shrugged off day’s last light
wrapping herself in the mysteries of night
where amorous wishes and twisting seine scenes
led to candlelit kisses and solitaire dreams

Beneath Them Steady Waters Still Are Flowing

During colder winters the river freezes over
A vast sheet of ice spreading shore to shore
While the traffic awaits March’s spring thaw,
Old boatmen share traditional waterway lore
And skaters, cautiously marking the depths,
Note where the ice is much too thin to bear
The weight of the heavily clad winter reveler.
Young skaters unbalanced with arms a-flailing
Struggle to find their real strength and rhythm
Beneath them steady waters still are flowing,
Providing neither instruction nor algorithm
Like navigating the barges, downriver going,
Only time and practice will develop expertise,
Seemingly to watchers on the shore with ease.

THIRD PLACE WINNER
entered "Winter Wonders Within Nature" Poetry Contest
sponsored by M. L. Kiser
written November 29, 2021

It Comes Without Trumpets

It Comes Without Trumpets

No fanfare, no golden light that we know of.
It comes without a pale horse.

Sometimes silent during the night,
perhaps peaceful but perhaps not.
No one knows the dreams at that time which could presage it, 
Leaving behind only silence in the morning forever.

Sometimes in a crowded busy space
surrounded by strangers rushing past,
who then hesitate, starring at the crumpled, inert form.
Or sometimes perhaps alone without any eyes to see.

Or sometimes in a surgical suite 
where unexpectedly you recede from time and place
floating as masked people rush
to staunch the flight of life
as the futility timer blinks inexorably,
until everything vanishes, and there is only muted silence.

Or sometimes in the comfort of home
surrounded in your bedroom by children and grandchildren and vestments. 
As you embrace, the embrace, of who comes for you.
 Surcease from pain, tears of beholders.

There are no trumpets,
No pale horses, no boatmen.
You merely retreat from the book of time,
Lingering, then, only as a memory in others,
Who also share a common destiny.
Written in their own book of time.

David Holmes 
April 27 2021

Ode To Holy Ganga- Constanza

Oh Ganga! river so revered
your holiness purifies deep
if thy essence we let in seep.

From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
down the mighty Himalayas
quenching the thirsty souls pious.

Yamuna, Saraswati neared
to merge with you at Triveni
Sangam of pilgrimage many.

Together all joyously cheered
by peasants and boatmen alike
before in sea you slowly dyke.

Your ambrosial waters so cleared
granting boon to even sinners
writing history of winners

Oh Ganga! river so revered
From lord Shiva's hair you appeared
Yamuna, Saraswati neared
Together all joyously cheered
Your ambrosial waters so cleared.

Note:
Ganga, Yamuna, Saraswati rivers' confluence takes place at Triveni near Allahabad. This confluence is also called Sangam in Hindi.

25.7.2020

Big Rocks

On Jingxi River boatmen are very careful with big rocks found,
No news about boat-capsizing is heard all the year round. 
But in smooth rivers where there are no dangerous rocks,
Victims are often heard to be drown without knocks.
(tans.)

Driftwood On the Styx

Three misfits sought mischief along serenity shore
when a boatman slashed through the bluing mist
with driftwood oars honed by a river called Styx.

They were wild and naive and looked quite aghast
for boatmen usually gather the worn and the weak
but the misfits were young and strong as teak trees.   

The boatman anchored a skull and clawed up the bank 
three clocks ridden by ravens appeared in the sky
the misfits ran amok when their time finally arrived.

The boatman sat in a dark crag and fingered them near
the mischievous three pleaded in gossamer tongues
but death is beyond stone deaf and heard not a one.

The boatman did show his heart, but of Sulphur it smelled
gently placing each misfit in a boat made of flesh and bone
vultures hopped the damned in their new dead water home.

A Haiku Anthology - Theme Summertime

wildflower meadow
as tall as a muntjac
cuckoo cuckooing
-
farmers haymaking
grasshoppers stridulating
don't touch a stinkbug
-
wood admiral glides
honeysuckle its host plant
humid the hot nights
-
warm is the river
fish rising leaping for flies
life seeking cool shade
-
inverted swimmers
water boatmen taking in air
cygnets follow pen
-
as fall approaches
swifts are well on their way
second brood blackbirds
-
hungry mosquitoes
human siestas a nap
insect repellent
-
sunbathing insects
flowerflies hovering free
mowers thrashing lawns
-
farmers cutting hay
a smell not forgotten
wildlife be afraid
-
sunbathers warning
cream up or suffer sunburn
worse melanoma
-
swifts immature
three years on the wing
unbelievable
-
sand martins nesting
adorning soft sandy clifts
freshwater skimmers
-
dragonflies masters
watch them fly backwards a thrill
kingfishers posing
-
super hot weather
droughts not good for wildlife
reprieved... thunderstorms
-
climate warming
both poles can't take the heat
humans all sweating
-
a countryside walk
on a warm sunlit day
foxes sunbathing

Harvey

Harvey

I sit in my chair

Lovely music playing;

Afternoon sun shining;

Birds filling up to roost.

I look out my sliding doors;

The ferns are lush.

I hear a baby cry,

There is a sloshing sound,

Muscle sore boatmen 

Never giving up.

Just a short way south,

Could I but see through the trees.

Last night fell.

Wet ladies from a nursing home,

May have to battle pneumonia.

Children’s new backpacks drowned.

Soon there will be silence and slushing,

Hovering people in shelters bewildered.

Families clinging.

No work today, except to survive.

When all is lost.

Politicians doing what they do.

And yet, Harvey has not died, nor does he sleep.

Soon again, it will be dark.

Danny the Dolphin

Danny the dolphin loved his next of kin,
swimming in pods out in the big ocean,
sensing danger he'd be the first to respond,
helping humans to safety creating a special bond,

Noticing that humans were polluting the oceans,
one big ocean ring of litter was just a portion,
sick and tired of seeing all the dying sea life,
he decided he wanted to help out and do what was right,

So he started to eat and swallow the mostly plastic litter,
the plastic bottles being as hard to chew as a fiddle,
his family clearly telling him he would end up dying,
Danny knew the score and told them please stop prying,

Eventually the fishermen and boatmen caught on,
seeing Danny out at sea eating and floating along,
feeling that they had to help with the plastic clean up,
they brought their nets and helped Danny out, 

The ocean was now as it was before there were plastic bottles,
thanks to Danny and his friends sacrifice which was colossal,
saving a lot of sea life making the ocean pristine and delightful,
human beings finally catching on by concientous recycling.




2-1-17

Befuddled Brenda

Ol’ brazen Brenda, battlin’ biography,
Banters bewildered brave boatmen at sea,
Brushstrokes besieging her beleaguered brain,
Broadsided by fiction now baking insane;

Balanced between both broken and brilliant,
Buried by sorrow, bereft not resilient,
A ballyhooed author, back in the day,
‘Fore Brian betrothed her then drowned near the bay;

Basking bereavement, believing though more,
Books barely bound newly found in the store,
‘Betaken, Broad Beauty’, Brenda’s new write,
Beveled bare bitterness abruptly bright;

Barreled, brought breathless by Bernie, beloved,
A character boating where dead Brian shoved,
As buckets with bottoms knowing no end,
Begging attention did Brenda’s mind bend;

Blended for sanity, befuddled realities
Born when begins a life without boundaries,
Betterment bellows because Brenda’s words,
Boxed-up betrayal beneath binding boards.


9/18/2016

Emerald Waves

Emerald Waves





                                                 emerald tides rise
                                     boatmen hold breath while tunnelled
                                               swim out holding bark



                                                  February 12, 2016
                                                        Haiku 102
                                                  Sponsor:Nathan D

An Evening On Roadside

The sun voyages on day’s last tour
Delves to relax
To make some rest and rest awake
The boatmen like a defeated soldier
Sails tireless though
Humming a song blissful however
Seems despondent and dejected
A thin line of smile fixed in face
Trapped are the limbs
By bulky exertion
Though caged in melancholy.
The cat moves hither and thither
Staring at her fisherman master’s face
Expecting to fill her empty stomach
With gills and fins fresh.

The lady at home
Prepares weapons, salt and spices
For a storage long
With broad and wide smile fixed to face
Dreaming of bread and butter for a month.
The pundit offers
A palmful of water after holy dip
A step before the last rite of the day
‘The evening Aalati’
The mullah sits on roadside
To thank the almighty with spread palms
For a safe and successful day
And expecting better tomorrow.

I Wander About

I wander about
like a fish out of water
in the surf blue sea

Me a traveler
in the congress of gray rocks
where carcajous howl

A vacant lot mind
wavered in the breeze empty
land soul never rests

Heart sighs seeks haven
warm breasts of the beloved
in my country home

I see the river
boatmen singing love ballad
flows out of water











Out of Water - Poetry Contest
Sponsor	Sheri Fresonke Harper

Lobster Rhyme

Under the depths below the deep 
of this Atlantic Ocean
live the lobsters that crawl and creep
with an articulated motion.

On the ocean that smells so fresh
the boatmen cast their nets
for lobsters' tender, tasty flesh
which they'll sell to pay their debts.

With a great catch this new season
the boatmen head for home;
the frozen lobsters give them reason
to reach harbor and not to roam!

In restaurants and sold at stores,
the lobsters are enjoyed
till all on New England's shores
are full and over-cloyed.

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