Gulls Poems - Poems about Gulls

Father Drinan

Father Drinan took his class to Coney Island Beach,
He thought the sand and ocean could also teach.
They ran to Nathan's hot dogs, then sunk in deck chairs,
Until a hungry seagull took them unawares.

(bridge)
The seagull grabbed a hotdog from poor Joey McBride,
A clever attack, swooping in from the side.
The kids all laughed, Joey let out a

Gulls Daub Dawn with Dabs of White

Dark green hills hugged up tight to black sea night,
Can see break-o-day light
Hear white gulls soaring into flight
Daub the dawn with dabs of white

FOR THE GIRL WHO NEVER KNEW

I placed all of which I am in your hands
Dreaming of the gulls in Long Beach
Your letter had the allure
Of perfume and whiskey
Salty kisses at midnight
I wrote words for you
Carried aloft by
Sparrows under moonlight
your reply was whispered
With passion's hungry tongue
And I was taken by you
Forever

The Pond Gulls

The town pond was drained,
revealing minnows
wriggling in the residual water
they milled and turned
in silvered arabesques
choregraphed by a rippling wind.

Large ocean-going gulls
descended out of a troubled sky,
they walked among the writhing small fry
plucked out the little fish
employing just the tip of their great beaks
as if sensible of the delicacy of such morsels.

Dark clouds foretold a storm,
strange

Cities of Gulls

The cities churn like a flock of seagulls
where fear comes from a broken unchained door
the masks of hunger hide in shadowed walls
fighting for scraps tossed on a filthy floor
buildings stand to decay where streets collide
garbage lay in piles, a strong smelly blight
change means nothing where the dying abide
to disturb the hate of a city's plight
children

Chasing Sandpipers and Gulls

I set up an easel in the shade of my beach umbrella. Wanting to paint by the morning light, I dabbed colors onto the palette...sea foam green, azure, titanium white, and ochre.

                       

Storms

The shrewd gulls fretted and flew,
veered inland to avoid the storm.
Some strutted over spiky rocks,
others flew low over the sea,
occasionally swooping into the cold
rough sea below, foraging
for tasty salty fish.
But when the storm was over,
they just flew up and ventured
to blustery pastures new.

Jagged

The ancient jagged rocks stand, like black sentinels along the waterside,
Protecting the land from the continuous raging tide.

They are perpetually black, either slicked with water or as a sharp silhouette against a blue crystal sky.
They dominate everything and are especially feared by every mariner that make their slow way by.

On their landward faces they offer

The Gulls Maw

A raw red crater of hunger;
the clacking tongue a buckram spear
shaken at all comers.

The gulls mouth is the gull,
the gullet is the gull
the torso, the snowy pale blue plumage,
that dark under-feathering
all the body of the bird
a perfect bow
for the arrowing beak
and its raucous bugle.

A neck stretched for greed;
above that gorge, hard-set and avaricious,
glint eyes long

On Seeing Gulls At Dusk

Out to the horizon I see
the yellow-orange of the sun
dripping such beauty with its glow.

Seagulls are soaring. They are free.
How I wish that I could be one,
flying high in the breeze’s flow.

If I were feathery and wee,
I could whirl, having so much fun
overhead moving to and fro.

I would swirl high above the scree,
squawking with glee

The Sea Gulls Came Home Potd

The horizon was brewing ominous clouds,
Dark as if they came out of hell.
The once azure sky became hazy
As the north wind chilly breezes
Puffed up more stratocumulus,
Rain-heavy clouds signified storms.

I rested against the balustrade
Of the promenade, looking down at the sea.
Waves upon waves dashed at the dark crags.
Seaspray washed my tired face.
Above the seagulls came to

Gulls Ride Upon the High Sea's Tongue

What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.

Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.

Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life and death.
Gullets gulp down then wide wings
swim on.

Indoor cats stare out of windows
as the heckling hunters tumble and dive
for shadows

The Pond Gulls

The Pond was drained,
revealing umpteen minnows;
they wriggle in the residual water
turning in silvered arabesques
choregraphed by a water-rippling wind.

Large ocean-going gulls descend out of a troubled sky,
they walk among the writhing small fry
pluck out the little fish
employing just the tip of their great beaks
as if sensible of the delicacy of such morsels.

Dark clouds loom foretelling a

Again To the Sea

I went down to watch the ocean this morning - well, Long Island Sound anyway. My last chance for a while, classes start tomorrow. I wonder sometimes how I can be refreshed by that gray, drizzly, melancholy harbor - locked in winter’s intemperate grip - but I am.

The salty air seems thicker and richer, the

Westering Sun

Temptation is in the sunset
To gaze behind the stern
Toward a distant landfall
To which I may ne’er return.

I will point my bow to westward,
Where yonder sets the sun,
Following true my guide star
Until the sailing is done.

I will never sing of lost loves
And things that might have been.
I will run before the wind
Unless I return again. 

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