Mystery Island Poems | Examples
These Mystery Island poems are examples of Island poems about Mystery. These are the best examples of Island Mystery poems written by international poets.
Remembering Achill island where:
landscape so barren echoes with loneliness.
Remnants of harsh winter slowly receding,
leaving terrain behind burnt from elements.
Will spring bring a green renaissance?
High on cliffs inquisitive Peregrine Falcon,
sharp-eyed and watching ocean frenzy.
Arrogant bird of prey, with attitude,
indifferent to Achill's weather.
Sojourner birds will return with spring.
Glacial island's intriguing domain.
Atlantic storms forever sculpt prospect,
as bitter winter sun skims land playfully.
Creating elusive shapes and shadows,
like a kaleidoscope of mystery.
These impressions stay with me,
when returning to my concrete existence.
Instead of screeching soaring seabirds:
the endless roar of traffic.
Closing my eyes I remember.
beneath circling clouds
in the depths of the ocean
with little nearby
lies a speck of an island
of but thirty-five square miles
green mountain rising
from which hot lava once flowed
most toward the west
where the people live today
in modest isolation
not quite as busy
as during the Falkland War
a remote haven
for whale and turtle watchers
and those not easily bored
the Two Boats village
an airfield called Wideawake
the days are long past
when lookouts stood chilly watch
so 'Lil Boney' wasn't freed
amid the high seas
and the bluest of waters
a little island
not so much as forgotten
as never really known
Lost in the ocean
amidst an endless sea,
Hanging around my neck
is a locket and key,
Picture dwells inside
no big mystery,
Portrait of you,
but it belongs to me,
Can I have a little longer
choking back the tears,
Wishing I could hold you
need to have so near,
Night time is falling
moonlight starts to glow,
I open up the locket,
never to be closed,
My life raft is sinking
water pours within,
Desperate situation
trying to save my skin,
All I really care about
not seeing you again,
Beautiful picture I gaze upon
brings solace to my pain,
O darling if you hear me
love always overcomes,
What a way to go under
your face is right in front,
O god I’m so sorry
have to take this plunge,
My only regret is leaving
you, not how I succumb,
My tears are sweetened
beneath salty waves,
Heart is pounding crazy
first kiss we made,
Your with me as I perish
my soul is not afraid,
Death in war’s nothing
for you my life I freely gave.
By
David Kavanagh
Night rolls off the cliff and down the mountain
Taking darkness with it in the tumble overload
Falls into dawn on waters traffic waves undone
Crashing on catastrophes of rocks not broken
Then pushed out to sea surprised
By tidal forces tsunami wise
Right into the middle of wide openings
Bermuda Triangulated up in mysteries
At oceans mouth rolled up and out
There is nothing else perceived
Caught up with a tiny thing in the thick of things
Bobbing on the surface of the blue
A message in a bottle stating;
“Stay home you fools.” “It's always hot outside.”
“Coconuts on barren islands are free
but not all they are cracked up to be”
When night rolls off the cliff
Down the mountain to be drowned
Dawn's traffic signals nothing's happening
Nothing missing in the mist of hours light
On barren desert islands lost at sea
Too small and not worth mentioning
In the larger scheme of things
There's an Island I know which is surrounded
by a deep, blue ocean,
filled with mermaids, Lochness monsters,
giant octopuses, and dolphins
that can talk!
Within the Island, we have folks of all kind,
who have met somehow through time....
Genghis Khan is an architect;
he's doing something different and peaceful,
rather than attacking his fellow Islanders.
Cleopatra is a great chef,
making all kinds of sea delicacies
the Nile will never know about.
Darwin is still an archaeologist;
he has dry bones hidden in his research lab;
he's convinced some Islanders may have
vampire genes in them!
Fishermen love Elvis. He sings so well
the fish jump into the nets in their hundreds.
"No Elvis, No Fishing!" is their motto.
A great number of electric eels are missing,
and no Islander knows why....
Tesla is secretly making electricity from marine
life without a Wildlife Warrant.
Yes, the Island is full of strange people and things
which seem normal and usual to them.
I always carry the Island with me,
like the mythical Giant Turtle.
The Island is in my thoughts....
She rose up, great green turtle of mystery
From chlliy depths of sapphire blue.
Drenched in a rich history,
Centuries of legend, lore and tales true.
Her shores are cloaked in limestone,
Ledges of jagged natural protection.
This grand Turtle Island alone,
Is Gitchii Manitou's perfection.
From her Eastern Shore,
Where the Arch rock stands tall,
To lover's leap and its lore,
Where Lo-Tah leaped at her lover's call.
Devil's Kitchen where wen-di-gos did
dwell,
When the winds come lashing in
Screams of their victims still echo well,
Washing over the Turtle's shores again.
North it's a great pillar of stone,
The very wigwam of Gitchii Manitou.
It stands tall, proud and lone
Watching over the Isle in the jewel sea.
Near the center is the crack in the island,
Where the Giants fingers grasp.
For when he loses grip with his hand,
The great turtle will sink once again, alas.
life
arrives in steady sweetened drops
a slow saute
slowely turning the face
to
a gilded seam of ivory,
death
comes in paceless buckets,
turns the heart into a raft
(what happened to those concrete friends)
spinning in a whirlpool
of black alley regrets-
in the end
all gather in a stagnant pool
the abomination
the miracle
cherry wood feathers
flecks of concrete
wisdom wearing a fools tiara...
a collage of friday crossword puzzles
colliding like rabid marbles
echoing hopeless and hopefull
beneath the rough rouged eye
of a vagabond god,
flesh and soul
(x and y axis)
hand in hand
atop hurricane island
conche shells to salty lips
blowing slow and silent
The waves hit the rocks reducing them to sand.
It then sweeps the sand off to some far away land.
The ocean overwhelms as I make the connections.
Then the wind blows from a different direction.
Walked out to the island, I find peace there.
Time just drifts by and I haven’t a care.
I look for treasures beneath the rocks,
My perception of time seems to be what it blocks.
I walk where the waves meet the sand,
It erases my tracks, I don’t know where I am?
I look back up as the wave’s crash down,
No one if left just the seagulls around.
I turn over some rocks to find some treasure,
I find lots of starfish much to my pleasure.
I catch a couple crabs and throw them up in the air
The seagulls always appear from out of nowhere.
The tide is coming in so it’s time to go.
The peace in my heart begins to show.
I think of tomorrow and where it shall go,
It seems like perhaps, any way the wind blows.
In the darkened docks
Of a north-eastern town
The frigid coast moves
Against the dimmed boat
Silently rocking by the black waves
A shadow approaches
Living a dark life
The boat doesn’t agree
To a simple boarding
One fails to get on
Brushed onto the water’s edge
Getting frozenly wet
Pain subdued by the coldness
Trying again respectfully
Success the honorable retry
Once one boards, surprises abound
The frozen boat
Has no life heat
There’s no chance
To make it to mystery island
One frowns vehemently
And must disembark with a handicap
Off the dismal boat one regrettably goes
Somehow defying the odds
Of meeting the frozen waves
The darkness envelopes this one
And one silently escapes
In the cold night air…
Russell Sivey
that Time never knew…
first near the Church
there seemed a clue
in the catacombes
of whispering hue
Saint Agatha’s mystery
became one for two
so i followed you
counting bricks in
narrow pathways
making note of the
arcs on display
Loving Couples blush
and bouganvilla sway
”...it’s very old here…”
and in the moss
I heard your name
echos of Lost
as I make my way
to a rocky coast
I past the Knight
and began to thirst
for the memory
of where my heart
came first…
then at a Red booth
I found my Muse
an empty black sea
stretches endlessly before me
the throbbing spirit of the drums
a fiery jolt of electricity
that dances through my soul
the old city ugly and abandoned
it's screams silent
all ambition gone
fragile destiny embraced
nimble crimson legs race
along the waters edge
delicate pink wings outstretched
grace and beauty combine
with a foofaraw of honking and babbling
slipping through the guard
of gnarled weeping willows
I slip the rusty key into my pocket
before joining my comrades
for a glass of newly uncorked wine
the emerald garden on my mind
tonight will be our farewell
I intend not to return to my fallow life
they will seek me but for a while
slipping away in the night I will be no more
treasure without limit lies beneath the nests
delicate creatures once chiseled into stone
The embodiment of the god Ra
I welcome the winds of change
the loud thumping of my heart
keeping perfect time
with the ancient island rhythms
Guests of Niagara Falls
A narrative stays untold,
Of which I can recall
Since the time I was 5 years old.
Between two cataracts
A strip of earth does lie,
A terrain of little impact
Found beneath the New York sky.
Upon this stretch of soil
A gentleman did live,
Fed up with worldly spoil
And with what it had to give.
Days were spent in solitude
Among the grassy plot,
From the world he did seclude
In this most congenial spot.
But oh how days are mournful
And nights are filled with strife,
A man becomes quite scornful
With no one to share his life.
His thoughts flooded with pain
He grew weary and forlorn,
Then one day they found his remains
A victim of bridal veil’s scorn.
The legend continues today
Rumors are told on the byland,
Of acute and utter dismay
The tale of the man of Goat Island.