Cargoes Poems | Examples

GIVEN SO FREE

Darl! Let's go to Manhattan beach,
There we can catch some fish,
Then you'll cook a nice dish,
That we'll eat under the Beech.

This time, if Jennifer goes, 
She'll want to eat a lot of Mangoes,
Then we'll send some by cargoes,
Like we did when we were on hol's in Fargo.

Oh! That reminds me, dearie!
Can you help me cut down this Cherry?
Don't think I am going nuts;
'Cos I earlier made you climb that Walnut.

Just like on Long Island, If not for Jennifer;
I would've broken my spine,
When you wanted me to cut down a Connifer,
But I still got injured by a falling Pine.

Long Islands! That's where we saw many Rowans,
In a forest planted by the Romans, 
I thought I'd find some of their treasures,
It would've made our memories more to measure.

Those are not Rowans, they are Hawthorns!
Hawthorn? That tree I climbed was without thorns,
Anyway, there's a lot of fun playing with trees,
There's no such adventure that nature gives more free.

English Homophones

Each bon mot melts with
Nuanced, age-old symbolic flavors -- 
Growing, changing, challenging me.
Language arts baffle me.
Institutional norms perplex me.
Slowly, I listen for that precise sound.
History’s echoes bounce off my walls,
Heaving meanings like so many dock workers.
Overhead, cargoes glide by glistening in the sun.
Movers eye the carts going forward.
Only I stand still.
Purposefully, I dream of…
Houses filled with  treasures – elegant libraries!
Open-hearted, I find and survey my grotto.
Nothing seems impossible as I 
Enter into a new dwelling and
Seek to be transformed.

Not Far and Not Close

In all facets, its scent blows like the man's coil,
Stop, you are weak!
Now these words make you freak.
From afar, more you walk, here you dwell.
Ravenous? Then swallow grumble and toil.
Top; above your imagination, so many are sick,
Despite this, beginning starts; end to seek?
None to lie, the sores as well.

This panting seems a marathon, what an adventure!
Imagine finishing it not knowing,

The cargoes still goes, none will venture,
Just a slopy, seems a hill unmoving,

To heads, all have gleefully mature,
Many are disparities that left filling.

The Sparks

The cigarette sparks 
Though small were non-bargaining
They turned cargoes into cinders
Thick smoke
Circling into the air
Before the fire engine arrived
While some flames still lingered 
Amongst smoking debris
The last wall crumbled
And hollow darkness occupied
The spaces left
Amidst the fire remains 
The smeared poles and pillars
Some people started collecting any valuables
In the miserable debris
Before the police arrived
Sad to say
The causes of disasters 
Are not restricted to careless sparks
But rumours,greeds,crimes and political tricks
On purposes
They are more disastrous
Turmoil arose even very much greater

The Port

The sea stops here
But waves splash hard against the jetty
Seagulls lingering
Before flying away
Ships docking at one moment
And departing at another
Shedding cargoes and loading again
Sea breeze blows in
And land breeze blows out
Departing passengers shedding tears
But arriving passengers wear a sweet smile
We never understand the feeling of a port
Nor do we understand a mother's feeling of
Letting her son
To go far away beyond the sea
For pursuing his ambition
And as soon as his disappearing into the horizon
She is already waiting for his coming back
To her
One day

Empty Vessels

I see more of them every day, 
Vessels devoid of any beliefs of their own,
Compassion not listed on their cargo manifesto,
Empathy never having been loaded on these vessels,
That fly flags of convenience.

Their code of ethics determined by what they see as normal behaviour, 
In the group at the time,
Be it good or bad,
No soul searching or due diligence attempted by these vessels, 
That steer clear of other vessels that carry cargoes not sanctioned by
Majority view on the day.

I see more of them every day,
Empty vessels that sail wherever the winds of change care to take them,
Until the day they sail into port flying the wrong flag.

Who amongst us can say they never provided timber that was unsound,
Maps long outdated, 
Or a compass that gives false bearings, 
To the captains of these empty vessels,
That I see more of every day.

Vistas of Perennial Happiness

Remorse
A dainty dish great minds consume
On the humble horse
Small minds can’t begin to assume

In their bid to earn fame
Coveted in the confines of smallness
Vanquished, extinguished and distinguished in blame
As they claim a dose of sadness

That leaves them empty
In body and spirit
When small minds to their detriment court and escort Humpty Dumpty
In his writ

To promote megalomania
Blown oversize
In consort with the mania
Whose prize

Swells small egos
Granting them soporific succor
Upon lumbering them with cargoes
Of ravenous rancor

While the humble
In their modesty and meekness
Shamble forth and stumble
Upon vistas of boundless bliss and happiness.

Cargoes of Folly Within Polly's Pate

Let go of cargoes of folly
Your imagination entertains
Unless you want Molly
To catalyze the increase of strains of pains 

You loathe to endure
In a bid to preserve the sanity
Ensconced in the mind you lure
To expunge the vanity

That invades the chest
Caught up between a rock and a hard place
In Cupid’s vest to test
The robustness you loathe to displace

In circumstances advanced when you flirt
With fire expecting a spin on a merry-go-round
Until cavities of reality hurt
So bad you no longer push around

Sleeping dogs that are best left alone
In peace unless woken up
In their ozone full zone
When you steal delights from the cup

Where Pandora releases cargoes of lunacy
So vile they sear attackers
Mad enough but no tough enough to sample the delicacy 
Concealed in crannies and crevices of coquettish bunkers.

A Frame In the Sand

And I boarded for to sail
a ship called the Northern Gail
and she was
 yes she was
 a lady
 rich cargoes fill the hole 
all the story was not told
yes she was
 she was a lady
purest silk shone like her sails 
she danced in the Northern gales
and she was
 she was a lady
a rich traveller with looks and gold
all the story is not told
yes she was
 she was a lady

I saw the sea lay her down
white flowers blue satin gown
and she was 
she was a lady
all rich stories told
lost the young 
lost the old
and she was
yes she was a lady
wooden dreams don't seem to last
as all prayed
 the mountains would pass
and she was 
she was a lady
one wave made her bed appear
soft pillows lay under there
and she was 
yes she was a lady

Bondage To No Bounds

Twenty score years ago, and some
The evil merchants crossed the waves
Gleeful as they raped and pillaged
Their cargoes of dark-skinned slaves

En route to the land of Liberty
Where all men are created equal
In their most frightening and wildest nightmares
They could never have envisioned the sequel

After four centuries of hatred, violence and exploitation
Against the human chattel who built this nation
The values upon which America was built
Would overcome its culture of greed

On the backs of unknown, unsung masses
Who bore the burden of long labor and whips lashes
And the prayers and Faith of prophet preachers
Came a man, half black, half white…

A new breed leader

Who dared to believe against all odds
That he could unite these United States
Seen only, perhaps, by The Dreamer…in ‘68
Who could have known our country’s fate

For the first time, truly, since 1776
A Golden Opportunity For Unity exists
That all Americans could possibly be One
Our new president alone cannot get this done

This is for you, for me, for we, for us
E Pluribus Unum, from many – one...

If God we trust?

Copyright 2009   Iger Rolyat   All Rights Reserved

Token of Appreciation

For morning of day night of Danish wind tone beneath the grains of solomon steps
Travler journey note or notice is more then most can take of the meaning of found what is meant
Of good day.
More over any over time and age of grace of day has more meaning each every day.
(How) 
For most a understanding fully gratitude is of fine wine conception is to know of dine
To of from to notice or to captivated holds on self reflection unto grace of hold night what is know
Is learned. Like Cargoes of mist to look but not carry how can one make assumption of a good day of pay
If languages is to evolve does concept of mean wage of apprehension
To look among a shadow or even a palm of water does it hold or cuff
(Drip) 
Moment of day learning each day how does the way or communication surpass not only of day also of days
(Drip) 
To notice the little of details does it hold one up or shackle them from beneath when words are said
Is it a fully understand or a concept take to what other seeks to believe.

Heartbeat of Delta State

HEARTBEAT OF DELTA STATE
The rain has fallen again,
The streets are isolated,
Everyone is filled with sadness.
Houses and shops have been abandoned,
Villages and towns have been inundated.
Bags and cargoes floats unsteadily,
Cars and buses are deeply buried 
deep into the water in a hazy manner.
People, animals, all are transported 
by little wooden vessels.
With no idea of when 
to take over their properties,
With no idea of where else to go.
The cities, their streets, 
houses and cars have being flooded,
Properties, expensive 
and extra expensive have been left over.
East Delta had been covered 
by the unmerciful ocean.
Precious lives were gone
 and more were at stake. 
Families and close friends- divided.
Farms with large crops- destroyed.
Hunger and thirsty, hugs my people with sadness,
 begging for aid.
Sickness and diseases fill people 
with sympathizing outcome.
A land of peace is now a land of disaster,
A land of Labor is now a land of turmoil.
May peace always reign,
May ignorance be neglected,
For the dying heartbeat of Delta.

She Is Simply Human

A heartily connecting straw sucks me into her
and her flare and class 
present themselves better than scenting ornaments.
A multitude of eyes and cargoes of attention
seemingly make my chances distant and sold.

She’s the lord of the ministry of intimidation
which makes the hands of my masculinity fold.
Competition and curiosity cook passion to its boiling point
but the calls of all senses, I put on hold.

My body movements sell me out in betrayal
but more rhythm for her are yet untold.
By now a community of guys revolves round her orbit
and so therefore to that reality, my heart molds.

An intrinsic dare propels me to be right in front of her
in great composure, I speak but feel so cold.
Her instant acceptance and shocking admiration
is a revelation of me being the one and only who’s bold
and the glorious dividends of adhering to confidence’s scold.

Buterflies and Sweet Breezes

blessing, butterfly, nature,

Butterflies And Sweet Breezes (Copywritted by didee)

Colourful butterflies dance on the tail
Of returning scented breezes
That coursed the meadows and moor's
Doorways left open and  ajar 
To  guide all breeze's flights in and out 
With the taking of mixed ambrosia whiffs
All swept from their bedded lawns glory
The scented cargoes fill with nectar spawn
Meant to tempt many a 'bypass tour' back.

And it is now on the returning breeze's tail
The butterflies will be brought to drink on nectar
While giving a show of dance they will flit about 
Flying from bloom to bloom to gather and drink
Where many butterflies will skip, jump and feed
Until drunk on great cups of mead and made merry. 
 
And it is with their tiny hands and feet
That touch ed-down on the ripe pollen within
That nature has intended to be bandied about 
For a full blooming proportional rebirth next year!

Wired

W as it just yesterday when
I found a vestibule
R ight next to my goals
E lse something is wrong, which brings
D elineation of a moral code!

I would set the world afire with political desire to achieve and to aspire.
I am going to be a political activist on women rights.
I have step-to-the-cause to claim ownership of my rights.
I am a political powerhouse not to deny.

I have Thunderclap and no response transgress.
Now the world I am within is in a doctrinal arrest.
Transmutation has taken place to transpire social injustice.
Transformation becomes work ethics.

The solidification of a soul is a sensation inner cored
Underlying posture of strength positioned to win.
Bearing the cargoes of a ship those encumbrances of conspiracy, 
Insofar, I am the scent of my soul.
Therefore, I am a cannon passing through time not afraid to live for what is right.
____________________________________|
Penned on October 12, 2014 @ 12:11 AM EST!

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