Sailing home to England
o'er the bounding main
oh to see those white cliffs
fields of green and feel the rain again
sailed away for a year and a day
an albatross following t'was a good sign
with wings wide-spread overhead
'tween tropics weather was fair all was fine
sailors know where the trade winds blow
and trust their compass true
but my days a'roving the briny deep are now done
I'm rolling down a rhumb line arc to you
"In a nascent world of life, a poetic soul forces in cool sea waves that ebb and flow,
the infinity of breadth." Quote by poet
Breath and vastness of the briny deep blue,
hidden universe on the ocean floor.
The largest and deepest of Earth's
five oceanic divisions.
It snuggles west of the Americas,
a world of profound mystery.
She tightly wraps her brine around
an extensive ocean basin,
a kaleidoscope of sea life, from plant-eaters
to meat-eaters, both great and small,
and a maternal, indulgent mother.
The ocean's rich mosaic floor
is constantly self-shifting, moving, and shaping.
For some marine ecosystems, a mere
dawdling pace is crucial for survival.
The temperature of the water drops.
Susurrus in the deep, in quietude
upon the feel of the poised wind against the waves.
The sounds and sunlight shower with a soft,
diffuse glow, leaving no trace in the deep.
One night out upon the raging sea,
In a storm so dark the stars did flee,
When in a moment a massive wave,
Sent a ship to a cold, watery grave.
From another deck, a wreath was thrown,
For the brave crew that joined Davey Jones,
Red roses that marked an unknown spot,
A simple act done with profound thought.
Those of the sea spurn long morbid woe,
But give honor to those lost below,
In a sea that offers much can take,
Friend and foe that demands great respect.
Upon the shore, gentle waves roll in,
Bringing a message from those brave men,
True mates resting in that murky den,
“Given the chance, we’d all sail again.”
Not to sail again is thought amiss,
Fear of the oceanic abyss,
And its haunting terror cannot keep,
Men from sailing o’er the briny deep.
My head confirms what my heart denies
I'm a prisoner of all your lies
And though it may put me in my grave
I'll stand forever your dying slave
Of this Siren's call there's no defense
Against all logic and common sense
But until the end my heart you'll keep
And bury it in the briny deep
No matter how many tears I cried
A hopeless fool on the day I died
And on my gravestone the caption read
He followed his heart instead of head
The crab on the salty sandy sod,
Making his way to the cold sea,
This odd crustacean decapod,
Crabbiest thing in the briny deep.
Yet, there is a swagger about him,
That’s the envy of all others,
Doesn’t value being proper or prim,
Nor have need to regale another.
Confident he will make the water,
He has done it a thousand times,
Nothing in his way that bothers,
Only nine empty diet drink cans.
Yikes, there approaches a dark shadow,
Must abruptly move all those legs,
This could be something of matter,
The shadow is carrying a keg.
It’s a mad dash to the ocean blue,
To escape what could be trouble,
This could be day a crab might rue,
Time for the ten-legged crab shuffle.
The crab makes it to the briny deep,
Shirks a crustacean tragedy,
Wasn’t the time to slumber or sleep,
Or shadow claims his anatomy.
A wave plays upon a liquid canvas,
in colors of brown, gold, aqua glass.
Globules mingle in 4/4 time
chiming songs, a crystal voice, sublime.
Somewhere in a distant keep,
are echoes of that briny deep.
Ingrained in oceans memory,
mammalian song is mimicry.
Dive down into the aqueous abyss,
you’ll enjoy a crystalline bliss.
Ride a dolphin into the sunlight,
they are personalities of delight.
An expedition to the coral reef,
gleans the beauty you may seek.
Aesthetic marvels, can be found,
among the corals, that abound.
He catches evildoers in his sturdy claws
That's what they get for breaking all those laws
Crime fighting crustacean without a pause
Binding crooks with pincers is such a worthy cause
He lives in a giant seashell in the briny deep
Then bursts upon the scene wherever evil creeps
When a robbery's in progress,he is there with a leap
Bringing villains to justice, so we can safely sleep
A radio aired an awful auld aria,
Astounding all my aged aural edifices
In eerie aura of araucaria trees
Aching angrily in a loud typhonic breeze.
My brain wanted to burrow to escape the pain
Of sounds as a warren of rabid jackrabbits
Digging to escape mangy slobbering coyotes
Howling hungrily in panting pursuit of prey.
Such a scratchy song, if played in the briny deep,
Would chase crazy-eyed kraken to the mountain tops.
Callas, Verdi and Puccini would flee their graves
For a screechy symphony of barbed wire sitars.
Praise be! The off button my shaking hands did find;
I woke up, pressing on my belly button hard.
Tide ebbed from the sea,
sublime poetic fervor
charge and impetus
enhanced responsiveness leads
unbounded benevolence.
Briny deep, long crested waves
forever beating the shore.
3/27/2019
Poetry Contest: CHALLENGE
Sponsored by: Martin Brown aka ManPoet
Mariners in our wanderlust,
We sail beyond the horizon’s curve.
Fearful, we dare the briny deep
Out of faith in the dreams we serve.
Rough-hewn by years of knots and coils,
Our hands hoist up the canvass sails,
In the ways that the ancients toiled,
To cross the many-fathomed deep.
The muted moaning of the masts;
The pitch and the roll and the yaw
Of wooden hulls upon the deep;
The wondrous fear of freedom’s call.
Daredevil dolphins rise and roll,
As fleets of flying fish fin by
Pursued by patrols of petrels
Winging o’er foam and stinging spray.
We plough the mirrored Milky Way,
Bright on the obsidian main,
As pale phosphorescent plankton
Stream by beneath the midnight moon.
Monsters revel in the tempests,
Risen from out the great abyss.
They lurk in misty fjords, off port,
Glowering in the wine-dark sea.
The heartbeats of our bodies blend
The ancient rhythms of our cells
With the rising, falling rhythms
With the siren rhythms of the sea.
Mariners in our wanderlust,
We behave like a swarm of bees,
Spreading the pollen of culture
To the four antipodes.
The rhythm of the sea, lull up and down,
while seamen stand out on the starboard
watching the sea light up like a watercolor painting.
Movements and chatter sounds sing to one another
like a flock of birds on tree boughs.
Entourage of Dolphins
in a watery playground,
elegant and slick, gray, long body
break upon the surface
discovering the sight
in the distance
not duller, but brighter.
Flickers of light around
when uncover
a graceful performance in fluid form
as they swim in the silence,
a whimsical waltz
by brothers, mothers, and lovers
a spectacular show of natural wonder.
Dolphins,
highly intelligent mammals,
a part of the whale family,
are benignly creatures,
playful swimming alongside ships,
they live throughout the world
in a cerulean depth of briny deep-sea.
12/31/2017
'P'' Contest, New Or Old Poetry Contest 7. playful
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Deep within the forest
wind across the mountains steep
The waves that don't sleep don't rest
atop the briny deep
The shadows always calling
the wilderness that pleas
The dreams in which you wake up falling
the fear that makes you freeze
The force that crawls within your mind
ever since you were a child
The urge to fly, leave your own kind
to answer the call of the wild
A Pirate Drinking Song
Yo-Ho-Ho and a bottle of rum
Pirates sing to the pipe and drum
North wind blows with a Gale's horn
Snapping the canvas with a deafening mourn
Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought
We ride the waves seeking adventure and plunder
It is Neptune’s wrath we curse, by thunder
The sea, she bares a woman’s desire
To set each sailors heart a fire
Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought
Canon and cutlass, powder and gun
We cut down are foes, one by one
To Davy Jones locker our souls will sleep
A funeral of apathy in the briny deep
Battles are fought, plunder is sought
To ports abound, it is Rum that is bought
With a hardy crew and an open sea
It’s a pirating life I want for me
Till then we will sing of the scallywag scum
Yo-Ho-Ho, Another bottle of Rum
Lying here in this life’s final berth,
No longer escaping to the sea.
If the greatest lie of all is not birth,
Death is life’s great treachery.
I think back to the times I spent
Sifting through the briny deep,
Deeply inhaling the saliferous scent,
Pleasure enough to make one weep.
The grave awaits me, I now admit,
As mortality is seeping through.
For if eternity is not a infinite pit,
I hope it ends in the quenching blue.
I am drowning
I can’t breathe, I can’t see
The sea is swallowing me
I’m fighting,
Kicking and screaming,
Struggling to stay afloat
My limbs grow weary
My body wants to call it quits
My mind is not for it
Panic sets in cause land is not in sight
Nothing to hold on to
Just a sea of blue
Eyelids grow heavy
Breathing becomes ragged
I am tired
The waves wash away my tears
But the feelings are all still there
Is this it?
No boat in the distance
No raft to cling to
No driftwood at all
I begin to sink into the briny deep
The fish lay waiting
Eyes open
As are mine and I look back
Losing air as I hit the floor
I lay down
As I choke out the last breath
Two words in mind
Good night
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