Gulfs Poems | Examples

When I Have to Open my Eye

When I have to open my eyes, stop own
To remember what the dream is,at sour
Gigantic hot gulfs in heart blown
Where ebbed fathomless sea, feels sore.

The memories going on my mind,
That are from years left behind,
Very sweet this morning sun
Peeps from cotton cloud , give heart burn
If every time this still like now
One day the tide of it gets overgrow.

wide eyes that couldn't get truth,
Every pieces inqiure,not own lie,
When all happened wit went to dearth
Neither mind thought nor mad fly.

Nature

A bright, sunny day,
From a summit, I gaze below,
The clock strikes midday,
What a dazzling sight to behold!

The wind sharp and free,
Blows from miles away,
Rustling leaves in a lively spree,
A masterpiece on full display.

Fresh puffs of breath,
A newborn would testify,
Like bees in a blooming flower bed,
Nature’s wonders magnified.

Breathtaking gulfs, the sky, the seas,
A beauty beyond disguise,
How I shiver in a sudden breeze,
Do you own all we idolize?

The Beauty

You can think,
You have time to think,
But you wouldn’t blink
When there’s a beautiful thing

Because
Beauty will run
Back as soon as it comes,
For you to be safe, uncursed
It will fade in the darkest of gulfs

Because
Darkness shines
More than the bright skies,
It engulfs everything that tries
To outshines its seas of hidden lies

Just like
There shall be I 
Be everyone’s but no one’s mine,
So, I’d be cut in half and dispersed alive
In their hands but no one would dare, get me back to life

And
You can think,
You can help me rinse,
But you couldn’t help him
When you faded like a beautiful thing.

Adelaide Delights

The moon beams chase the darkness away
As a starry night pin points its the way
For the Southern Cross rules the southern land
No clouds to crowd as the darkness expands

Gulf waters reflect the moons journey
A vision reflected with artists envy
As it sails across the night sky
The moon commands over all on high

Wonderful visions of my home set free
Looking out over the Adelaide plains to the sea
At night where the sun doesn’t rule
The moon tracks across the gulfs watery pool.

© Paul Warren Poetry

What Is It Part Vi

What Is It Part VI

In dementia we only the past lies clear.
What was is reachable; what is, is ghostly.
We see the universe the same way,
Its great shimmering cloud spreads so far over space and time
We see everything as it was, not as it is;
Most of it exists for the motes in the far long ago.

So if this so diffuse, so ephemeral cloud
Has thoughts born of the lightning flashes 
Going off in the countless tiny motes within it,
Separated by great gulfs of time and space,
What manner of thoughts can they be?
Does it spend eternity wondering What It Is?

What Is It Part Ii

What Is It, Part II

The mind, a cloud of neurons
Packed snug within the deep grooves of the skull
Tiny worlds reaching out to all their neighbors 
Across great gulfs of the brain
Communicates ceaselessly via little bolts of lightning
Adding to a sum far exceeding the whole;
The miracle of consciousness reborn every millisecond
Within the storm.

It knows what it is,
Has named itself,
Taken note there are other like storms roaming about.
Has contacted them and joined with them 
Building knowledge, history, civilizations
Searching for more, evermore like itself
To find meaning in the fearful Vastness
It knows it is suspended in.

All this it does 
Managing its frail,complicated Self.


It knows the body it inhabits dies,
Beyond which, it knows not.

But it speculates.

Bones Ache Yet Heart Sings

Pureness, peace, compassion, bliss, Power, and Wisdom,
That links my reason-spirit body-soul system;
Tells me that my physique is a temple of God,
Though my day-to-day existence is flighty odd...!

Sufferings and pains wreck my delicate physique,
The feasibility of survival is bleak;
Jabs and tingles and stings and burns, and fleshly aches,
Sake my body; break it; leave it like mere sweepstakes...!

Do, yet, though wings get clipped, birds ever fail to sing?
Don't, midst caste, color, and creed gulfs wedding bells ring?
Physique, though a bundle of flesh, blood, veins, and bones,
Aren't there, within, caves of metaphysical zones...?

Joy is within, as fragrance within the flower,
Isn't the spirit, more than flesh, give me power?
Physical aches can't imprison the psychic zings,
This is why though bones ache my heart cheerfully sings...!!!


18 June 2023
Bones ache yet heart sings Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker

Maternity

What do I know about maternity?

The Heavily Pregnant’ Fraternity…

First, labor cries a continuity,
Next, shouts of victory an eternity:
Lord God’s words had never returned empty,
Mothers with new babes, their strengths empty:
All of them just won the longest battle;
When occasioned wrongs attract no rattle…

Where you don’t meet smart men or The 
More of “Father” Seeker than Gold Digger,
Male doctors, male nurses plus their husbands,
Young men there during labor beaten bands!

Where cut are cords joining mum and babies
But restored through breast milk to the babies 

Careless still-births could maternities kill,
Wide gulfs created few midwives refill; 
They know when to tell The Laborers “Push”
For maternities not sited in bush.

Spencer Gulf

And now -
imagine the sun
rising over
the gulfs broad reach
where waters run
the long length of sandy beaches
and the cry of a gull piercing 
the bright air,
sounding a morning
as if to plumb its measure.

Now - slowly begin
to feel the solitude,
the absence of dominion,
a vastness of scale that laps
the limits of all thought,
an alchemy of earth, air and water
until there is only
what is taken in,
becoming then, the beholder
of itself.

I'M a Cowboy-

On the dry Prairie and then Mississippi Valley, yahoo buckaroo;
I come out eating choking dust daily, yahoo;
While on the long open range;
This cattle drive I parade;

Moo-be then dar doggies;
Through open Plains and Gulfs in Valley range;
Yippee ki-yay, Yahoo buckaroo doggies;
Got a rope and a horse, hey flowing mange!

Also got a sixth barrel caliber Bang Bang git them bandits;
I ain't going to be in shooting unless it's in self-defense;
Because this keeps me saved me from them Outlaws those dirty varmints;
That corn whiskey on my breath;

I'm a self-proclaimed cowboy;
I'm not afraid of this life or death;
And one day I'm going to be a big-time Lariat Oh, boy;
Screaming yippee ki-yay Yahoo buckaroo wooh!

From the range to the rodeo this is where I'm going to go;
I am a cowboy




1/19/21
Cowboy Poetry Poetry Contest
Rhyme poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Line Gauthier

War On the Plebs

No one would have believed in the early years of the 21st century that English lives were being culled by evil powers from the timeless worlds of hell. (No’ 10)

No one would have dreamed that they were being scrutinised by someone who treats us like we’re a disease that swarm and multiply in the inner cities.

Yet somewhere in the gulfs of hell, minds immeasurably more evil than ours regarded our lives with such disdain and slowly and surely drew their plans against us!

Pulsar

Pulsar

Spinning heart of stellar suicide,
You flash on/off, on/off
A lighthouse now
Across black gulfs
Remains of yourself slowly falling away,
Shimmering smoke aglow with fading heat
You flash on/off, on/off -
A beacon for what unknown travelers?

The Consolation of Danger

Too slow is the speed of life, 
so we try to outrun avalanches and race sounds, 
flee into roaring tubes of hungry water, 
brave invisible waves in the sky. 

Too barren is the landscape of life, 
so we take shelter in surly jungles and unruly gulfs, 
set out to survive deserts where even memories die, 
trespass peaks reserved for birds and clouds. 

Too bloodless are the aesthetics of life, 
so we declare emotional asylum in the turmoil of music, 
find refuge in the jarring, scarring beauty of poetry, 
ask to be abducted into the haunted wilderness of art. 

Too transactional are the relationships of life, 
so we pawn our souls for the drugs of cults and creeds, 
trust in friends or their imposters,  
risk heartbreak for a few moments when the world spins. 

Too fraught is life with the danger of safety,    
so we seek salvation in a rush of adrenalin, 
or a trickle of madness. 

Empty-handed is no way to leave.  

We’ll hitch a ride on those spikes along that flatline. 

Or be impaled upon them.

Lovers Leap

LOVERS LEAPb>

How long the days of lovers cleft
The brittle feel of nights bereft
Where restless wind through cedar claws
The rasping void of canyon jaws.

The close up call of raptor hoot
Distant tolls to our melancholic mood 
Cobalt darkness gulfs o’er world's unseen 
And conjures voids where we'd lonely been.

Can this be fair we soft beseech
Our love away and out of reach
And more like us there surely is
A crowded rim ‘round bleak abyss.

We try for slumber the soothing balm
A haven sought, a merciful calm
A place of refuge where torments laid
To rest, if only, if only our thoughts allayed.

But sleep won't come our cherished goal
Instead accelerates this mindless roll
Whirligigged mind but of pleasure void
We ride again this tormenting toy.

Is this the way of minds unhinged
Sleep deprived and nerves well singed
Of thoughts ensnared beyond release
More woven now than bovine fleece.

Dawn creeps in, an early siren wails
Our hollow eyes are pits or gaols
But sounds there are, a creeping swell
To rescue minds near lost pell-mell.

Tango

tango

I see her sway in a tango 
young lithe 
a brief moment without a care
alone beneath palms of night
far off shore lights answer 
in step 
a dreamy dip and bow 
the sky reflects the glow reaching
for her hands 
that flutter as moths

music is in her head
music only she knows 
slipstreaming across gulfs of misery
the strings it attaches
pull her hips like a pendulum's sway
slow arcs of flame burn her pale skin
a stare of warm melted caress
brushes the face of the unseen
purple blossoms trail from her hair

leda pleases herself in the dark
dancing passion to a clouded moon.

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