Honorable mention in Line Guthier's Bite Size Contest No 145
THE LONE GULL
Haloed by sunshine, the lone gull descends
from the sky and hovers over the waters.
Walking on the waves, dips its beak catching fish
in waters where I would not dream of casting nets.
Then, spreading its wings cruciform,
wholly ghost-like, ascends into the heavens.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They rise on thermals we cannot feel,
these white-winged wrappers of the air~
shuddering their thin, translucent skin
against the fist of every March wind.
No nest to claim them, no song to sing,
just the hollow rattle of their flight,
the way they cling to chain-link bones
like ghosts who forgot how to fall.
Sometimes, in the slant of dying light,
they almost fool you~
drifting lazy as herons,
dipping like terns over parking lot waves.
But watch one snag on barbed wire,
watch it thrash and twist,
and you'll know:
this is a bird that cannot die,
only tear itself smaller and smaller
until even the wind says goodbye.
A gull glides slowly
Through the cloud-grey sky
No sign of hurry,
No hint of worry
Content thus to fly.
Dramatic contrast
To the traffic down below
Human hurry
Human rush
As though its sinful
To go slow.
Maybe somehow
In a very little while
I’ll let time take
Its gentle course
And gull-like
Peaceful go.
of the azure
s
k
y
and the blue s w i r l i n g ocean . . .
a gull screams loudly
The Sea Gull
The one-legged seagull king that lived on the last reef
before the ocean began had lived long, longer than gulls normally do
He came from a sturdy breed that for generations had lived
at the edge of land and sea; they knew things other birds didn’t know
On the ferry bound for England the king came onboard, I fed it fine
knowing well the king would be back when the ferry returned
Other younger birds wanting the space on the last reef, attacked the king
who never more returned; to the ferry boat they circled and shrieked
in triumph demanding preferential treatment, I gave them potato peel
and saved the best leftovers for the gulls on the coast of Newcastle
After years of a zero-sum life having no time for anything, I retired and
bought a cabin far inland, but near a lake that had a wooden pier and
a rowing boat, a place where the trout waked undisturbed.
On the top of the chimney he sat, the old king, waiting just for me.
My feathers are misted and moistened from the sea spray
As I glide above the busy shore on Frenchman’s Bay
The sunrise displaying beautiful pinkish and purple hues
While the tide is out, no fish and the crustaceans are few
I soar above the boats all docked along the shore
While searching for a safe landing and food to score
Spotting tourists, seated while eating their breakfast food
I quickly land at their table, hoping they’re in a giving mood
Instead, I get shooed off with water thrown and screamed at
Flying off, I soon spot a trash bin with bacon pieces, crisp and fat
I dive into the barrel, feathers tucked, beak landing into the bacon
Delighted as I also feed on some toast crumbs and a cinnamon muffin
I feel the barrel moving, again I am screamed at and shooed away
I fly toward the sky, soaring high as my droppings splatter and splay
I soar above the surf, my feathers spread wide enjoying the sea spray
Spotting some crabs washed ashore, now dive- bombing for my lunch today
Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Shadows amid the waves
bird-eye targets,
besties gather for
a fine dining experience;
aqua splits to pierce
of bill.
Fueling up the old pouch,
a winging pelican riding sea breeze
to sustenance;
all hook-billed and needing no bait.
Just a hop, skip-skim
across to side-dish;
let’s have a herring and mullet casserole!
Throat-sack wiggles, jiggles,
down the hatch,
then it’s back to the nest for
cocktails and a snooze.
Gregarious, the lot of us,
quite a personable group;
flashey-fish’in, eight-foot
wingspan, spots another appetizer;
bank left, wings fold in
a dive-bomb spin...dessert!
We’re aerial acrobats of the coasts;
hop a ship and we’ll perform
for you; no charge.
I know you so well now
that I can instantly
capture your moods.
Watching
as the tide ebbs -
you regretfully reveal
hidden treasures.
Children with small nets
probe into
your very soul,
and seabirds
plunder your bounties.
If I listen carefully
I can hear you cry.
Oh but the tide incoming
is a different matter.
Water gently
chuckles through
parched crevices,
small creatures return
where they belong.
Behold, seaweeds dance
in joy, and
once again
rejuvenated
you count your losses,
lick your wounds.
Written: circa 1994
———
Gull Point is in the East Coast Bays of
Auckland, New Zealand. An old haunt.
Last days of summer
Autumn's presence felt
The sea retains some heat
Hardy souls take the plunge
While gulls skim and surf
Riding on waves that swell
A curious seal watches
Alien species enjoying
Freedom from the land.
Image
by
Natalia_Kollegrova
Pixabay
the sky is a hazy blue sea today
and a breeze touches the tree tops
and they sway like emerald waves
oh, there is a perfect silence ...
though hidden birds chatter and twitter
and my flowers tremble
while others are ... perfectly still
and my hanging
ivy is creeping and twining
and somewhere a wind chime
pings once
and a white gull glides
_________________
June 9, 2021
If, I were a seagull;
The wind would tickle
And lift my fine feathers.
I would extend my wings,
Bend my knees,
Leap up into the air
Flapping my wings
Taking off and fly,
Feeling the favorable
Brisk briny breeze filled sea.
Glide and vanish into the broad sky.
I'd fly among the shadows of the clouds,
Embrace in natural warmth
Of heavenly sunshine,
Overlooking uninterrupted view
Above and among endless, blissful line;
Along the coastline,
As it calls.
1/30/2021
If I Were A ? Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Judged 2/4/2021
3) if I were a seagull
Poetry Contest:'NA Poem From a February 2021 Judged Contest -'
Sponsored By: Constance La France
I’m soaring through a sunset – violet
as sun drips into water cobalt blue.
How peaceful is this twilight time. I let
my eyes take in the total gorgeous view.
My mates fly with me. Beachcombers we spy!
We squawk and squeal and circle with delight.
Then down to where the humans are we fly.
We need to look around while there’s still light.
Before the sun into the ocean dips,
I hope to find some food upon the ground.
I relish scraps of fruit and yummy chips!
Oh joy! I see my lovely mate has found
leftover crumbs. She shares them all with me.
How glad are we to be birds of the sea.
Jan. 30, 2021
I Discourse Poem, The DREAM
The dream came before dawn
Longer ago than I dare to date.
Within it, I trudged along
The forever-length of a deserted
Beach, having only the hope of
Sighting a pier with its over-swooping
Gull.
I kept on the heavy walk in the dry,
Poor, foot-denying sand — with
More sliding down than stepping ahead.
I wearied. I admit. I kept on,
Lifting my eyes to the distances for some
Sign and, then one came, but not to eyes.
My ears.
At first I strained to believe it was sound
At all, so I hurried toward the horizon,
Concentrating. Until, yes! Sound pulled
Me on to hearing faint tones of music!
Forgetting my steps I struggleon toward
The faint but distinctly sweet sound of a choir!
Heaven?
I woke.
Filled with a landscape of questions.
To this day, embracing.
*********. ************. *********
(C) sally Young Eslinger 12/18/220
Thanks be to God. Alleluia!
The old sea-gull
The old one-legged sea-gull
sat on my roof near the chimney
if felt the cold, scanning the sky.
Once it had been the captain on the outer reef
and fought many a battle to sit on his crown
Someone took a shot at it, and it lost a leg,
together with oncoming elderliness, it left its kingdom.
Took refuge on my roof and lives of scraps of food.
It is still standing proud, but it can´t be hidden
the decline that overcomes us all.
Like the sea-gull, we have to battle on, be dignified
of the onset awaiting us.
Like rowdy teens all running for a bus
The gulls have seen the merest hint
That someone threw a crust
An unwanted scrap from Pret
The bottom of a wrap or the final soggy
Mouthful from a keytchup spattered bap
Sending fifty feisty squabbling birds
All rising in a screechy flap
Just the first arrive in time to dive
And wing away their beak-caught prize
Towards the winter water skies
Chased by the nearest losers.
The rest resettle in their line to wait again
Another time the unpredictable arrival
Of a sandwich part way munched
In the office lunch timetable.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.