Disembarking Poems | Examples

Niagara Falls

Inhaling the mist on Niagara's waters,  we sail,
Love and romance, in the mist's sweet tale.
As couples, we mirror the falls' ebb and flow,
Peaks of passion, in the mist's soft glow.

Yet a lone soul, lost in the cascade's thrall,
Streams of loneliness, down the falls do fall.
In search of love, in the mist's swirling sea,
Losing identity in the falls' mystery.

Disembarking the boat, we bid adieu,
Exhaling farewell, to a friend so true.

Crossroad 24, Letter to America

Dear America.

My name is Common Sense.
A few people still respect
and utilize me, but in many if
not most places, I am no longer
welcome. Nevertheless, I beg of you
to bear with me in this brief discourse.

Here we are again,
at the crossroads of heaven
and, as Charles Dickens would say,
"the other way".

We have been here before, often
pushed to the edge as in 1776, 1812,
and 1860; just to name a few. By God's
good graces, we withstood the attacks
of our enemies and survived our own
civil war against ourselves.

The present questions before us are
whether or not we will survive and
recover from our present determination
to be at war with ourselves.

Do we dare embark upon a course that bodes
no good fortune? Must we insist on a family
feud set on disembarking from America's
foundation principles? Shall we pursue
a direction intent on rebuilding a nation
whose God is no longer The Lord?

I love you America, and I still believe
in you. I shall continue to pray for you.

Your friend,
Common Sense

Journey

trapped dreaming of land
mal de mer was atrocious
force nine storm endured

time moved so slowly
frightful journey remembered
misery at sea

land ahoy! thank God
disembarking with relief
terra firma joy





''J'' Words 
Poetry Contest
Chosen Word: Journey
Sponsored
by: 
Constance La France 
07/03/2023




Pixabay Image by: ELG21

The Train

The train 
Trumpeting its way
On rails
Through tunnels
Busily sliding
Nosily whistling
Arriving stations
Leaving stations
Hearty hugs
Sad wavings
A journey with stops
With people embarking and disembarking
Just as life with ups and downs
With different expectations and dreams

The Lotus Eaters

Those over 50's holidays
that they advertise on TV
must really do people a power of good,
at least that's how it seems to me.
Their smiles are all truly dazzling,
soft-focus smooth is their skin,
their trim, sun tanned bodies really do suit
the wonderful clothes they're filmed in.
They sit eating salads, al fresco,
a glass of white wine at their lips,
and nobody suffers lumbago
or limps from their arthritic hips.
Disembarking from liners for shore leave,
or boarding an exotic train,
there's never a sign of an arthritic spine
or a bad case of varicose veins.
I've not met these people in Derby,
so maybe they all live abroad,
all sunning their bits over in San Moritz
which is something I cannot afford.
So when I at last claim my pension,
and have lots of more time to kill,
it won't be a sun deck in Paphos,
but more like a caravan in Rhyll.

Strain

For wary minds that tend to creep,
the weary mind it so does keep.
A beacon like a lightning rod,
The unbeknownst it tends to sod.
For in its dreary wakened sleep,
another question so does creep.
Without restraint, this thought to bear,
defines me as plain unaware.
Where do I find the left behind,
when it was only state of mind?
The consequence which we define,
of disembarking unto time.

Twisting Hair In a Hollow

when we think to make believe
following a recent passing
love thrills beyond remark
as it fills the everlasting
hope ends without its washing
weathered gray replace the green
like starlight disembarking
as lips pray into the dream
tears quench weary wishing
time crawls through hollow fires
like a baby made of kindling
linking the last of a memory
to hair and fingers twisting

When We Drew Lines

The line in the sand which we drew in my bed, do you recall how we drew them, the things that we said?  Was it just hot air to keep my balloon afloat, rambling and kidding before grabbing your coat and dropping an anchor to try sink my boat before disembarking?

The line, those words, full of promise and hope anchored me in a storm, my heart crashing on the rocks of harsh disappointment, trapped and abandoned.  Oh but for my resilient, stubborn soul, which refuses to be tied down and stay in the harbour waiting for another voyage to abound.  I am as tall and proud as The Royal Clipper and on every strength i will raise my sails and use the storm to draw new lines which you can see where it dragged that anchor back out to sea, i am free, no longer your nonentity, i am woman and deserve more you see.

Good luck on your journey, watch out for the storms, always look for the lighthouse, it has saved me.

Gears Spin Out a Provocative Question

spending time, charmed by all the goodies
...a weight room, pool and foosball tables and
a padded room with a wrestling mat and dummies.

a kids paradise.  Little girls backflipping, colliding
with little boys. ...with choke holds and all.

upon disembarking this adventure, past the fountain,
and stepping on ritzy road of the very rich,

the school age thinker asks, with a gulp, gears spinning
in his overwhelmed head:

“What does someone have to do to live in a place like this?”

3/28/2018

Commute

Commute

I saw her reflection in the train window on my commute home today
Peering, gazing, thinking she can't see my stare
A glance towards the glass and I've been caught
Quickly pretend to look right through as if the tunnel wall interests me
But the cables and the clips cause me to think how they all got there
Gangs of workers in the night time
A momentary thought I look again but she's gone
A stop I don't remember
Perhaps she wasn't ever there
I continue home, thinking random thoughts 
Autopilot travel, can't remember how I got here
Disembarking walking thinking
Home

Scarborough Fair

The war was finally over,
so Parsley, Sage, Rosemary
and Thyme were all waiting 
in anticipation by the clover,
standing in the town square
all dressed up to the nines,
wearing their bodice gowns and
bonnets trimmed with lace and ribbons,
and talking amongst themselves
while looking at the clock tower time,
finally hearing the sound
of trotting horses hoofbeats,
while the soft beating of
their heartbeats steadily increased,
their men in uniforms riding
up and quickly disembarking,
running up to their ladies while
they all cried and hugged one another,
the ladies searching their
brave mens eyes and faces,
looking for signs of war,
signs of scars and anguish,
wondering if their men will
ever be the same,
noticing in their eyes,
the constant look of pain,
slowly walking arm in arm 
home with them past the
Yorkshire military war graves,
while they patted their
women's pregnant belly's 
in the midst of a spring rain...

Antiquated Shore

On the edge of barren, corroded shore
Where sailors ply their trade no more
No tenured harbor gallant fleets to moor,
or docks to greet restless crew, strident commodore
No expansive peers into the mighty ocean waves bore,
or rustic wharves to accompany the dank decor
Gone are the tradesmen whose skilled hands weathered ships did restore,
and the tawny, burly arms of the itinerant, shuffling stevedore
No inquisitive merchants the cargo's value to score
Yet the drifting currents grainy sketches still store
In the eerie winds the rasping breaths of stevedores soar
Through stormy gales, commands of disembarking captain's roar
Timeless silhouettes of wafting masts hover o'er ocean floor
Apparitions of ruddy sailors from briny mists pour
Out of the steamy fog, pirate ghosts still yell encore
From foaming waves, drunken sailors one more drought implore

Decks Are Cleared

You are dying inside me,
my little god.
I am awakening after a long pause.

The forked hazel wand
does not bend back, perched on a buried treasure.
I am disembarking from divining.

I stayed without body, nervous;
like aspen leaves trembling at slight doubt,
hearing footfalls of dew drop.

Fear of old fear arrives again,
when the seeds begin to explode
in the womb of a fallen tree.

For the spoken word, sting in the tail
becomes star-struck. Death zone enlarges on black
pyramid. Conscience is on its descent.


SATISH VERMA

‘heated Fireballs'

Heated fireballs of fury pounding from the covers.
Blackened eyebrows, dipped with silvery mascara.
Envious rage and turmoil, burning thy hull within.
Ocean of nature’s errors, touched-up with audacity.

The ageless urges of the heart build a cyber-space.
Matter, tracking anti-matter through the universe.
Fourth dimension, disembarking on newer creations.
Step by step the cosmos blooms into awakening.

Avenger, can we cross swords; freedom stays in veils.
Figurine solitude, holding thee down in inequality.
King Bristol is fettered by grace, sprightly, serene.
Come, vengeance be not vain, penance is here to stay.

The main spar has blown, the canvas flutters lifeless.
Yonder the stars have begun their spread over the skies.
The obsequious will live in drudgery at the oars.
Wallowing with the deep sea to the slaver beat.

A Fierce Fight With Freddy the Fly

Freddy the Fly was
disembarking at ,
long last...

And if you noticed
his face, perchance.
.the very thought of
six hundred tears
falling happenstance

He'd booked a lay- over
in the Alleghany swarmps
Cause someone told him
A few "Crock and  Colas"
"Will put some nice sharp
shoes where you need them

But 
         First thing Freddy does see...a hungry croc headed for he!

freddy was all over him; much too fast for the croc to see.
At the given signal



However, this was a dream. a 'Crock", for sure.









































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