'While stranded high and dry
unemployed skippers ate a lot of kippers'
which smacks of a red herring to me
is a tale told when we were but nippers
altho' with neither fowl nor feline
in a beautiful pea-green boat
the motley crew who put to sea
were assuredly safe and sound when afloat
but then as ocean water rose within
thereby a somewhat large hole revealing
the now woeful matelots felt dreadfully unhappy
as they smelt a strange yet serious sinking feeling
for sadly a rather bad leak had sprang in the bilge below
and their ship went down like the proverbial stone
so the jobless captains fared far better
as landlubbers secure ashore home on their own
All landlubbers like us
carry a bag of primordial ocean
within us, to bathe our aquatic cells.
Our blood and bodily fluids
are saline, akin to the seawater,
from which they originated.
Despite leaving the sea
to crawl up on dry land,
we are all essentially
sea creatures on life support,
here on Planet Water.
For water, H2O is the hub of life.
The wellspring fountain for the origin of life
Water is life's mater, matrix and maintainer.
The ocean is our water's reservoir,
here on Planet Water.
red morrel mushrooms that always overgrew
they annoy me sometimes, how about you?
hey! who invited Captain M’s pirate crew?
They are rude and always spit in the awful beef stew
They all pretend they cannot find the loo
I smell them as they come in, they smell like mildew
they are reeking up my living room through and through
can’t you get them to bathe? I ask my cousin Lu.
None of you landlubbers are as fresh as the dew.
This is said by the first mate, they call him Big Blue.
Why does that overgrown dog always moo?
They were weird, coarse and wild, from Timbuktu.
I warned others with looks not to give Blue a clue.
My pet is my pet, and killing her is not what I’ll do.
They can find beef somewhere else, I do not explain her moo.
Why don’t you sit down while I ladle up your stew?
Broken-hearted are the tree limbs,
General Flooding surveys the wreckage
blames a subversive sky.
Gamely, the peg-legged scarecrow
salutes the wavy navy
while they row on by
in their bathtub parade.
It's a fine day under water,
cats are stewing poems
in a bobbing blue barrel;
words drip from their whiskers.
Ducks flop their slippery wings
as oily drums grease
their oily bones.
Rowdy are the gulls
that pipe the rain ashore,
it's as if the blocked-up
boggy landlubbers
had Mackerel eyes,
or as if the sky had gills
and needed more.
Remote land summon an aloof tempest,
Bursting lights glint inquietude offshore,
Edged mists intimate like an apprentice,
Intrigue asserts the clouded to explore.
Inland heating like a warming welcome,
Landlubbers likely combative response,
Unveiled inherent instincts that seldom,
Aid dominions that are so nonchalance.
Newt eyes nictating atop curling waves,
A plucked forest acts as a casting wand,
Amplifying teens conjure inward braves,
Spirits arising maintaining the spawned.
Imaged enthralled hazes flit Noah's ark,
Sweeper-swept palls purify rainbow arc.
Distant gleams twinkle
Beckon sailors, landlubbers
Thousand points of light
Three
….. huddle in a wet doorway
……brown bag sipping
….any port in a storm.
John G. Lawless
©3/3/2018
Sustainable Fishing
Theirs`s were small fishing vessels with painted eyes on
the bow, the eyes of cunning
The men went out early to catch the biggest fish with
hooks and line and at what landlubbers called dawn
they were back with the seas harvest
Best price, their predawn caught of fresh fish.
Sometimes the catch was small yet enough to set food
on the table for the children and a few glasses of wine
for the fisherman and provider
Trawlers with big nets came this is business of today
and never mind tomorrow.
A sustainable tradition had come to an end
the new master didn’t think of the future today
the morrow can take care of itself.
Not many fishermen`s left in the bay they are mostly
old and their catch is enough for dinner of the day
keeping the ghost of hunger at bay
Big Breakers.
Frothing, the colour of spring leaf, a mountain top of ocean
intent on drowning you it is not like crossing a road and just
have time to jump clear of a car.
No, you are totally helpless and your salvation is down to
luck not maritime ability. The beast has gone mad something
we said down in the mess-hall when playing card?
Not to forget the good moment when the sea is flattening out
flecked by light blue. Our promises of not drink and smoke
and to be kind to our mothers vanes.
There is something mesmerizing about it, will the ship be able
to shudder and get up from the tons of water? Are we ghosts
from a past that never was?
I Kingston we drank rum & coke and never spoke about our
inner thoughts, we had survived and lived in the moment.
But what can you expect of a simple seaman when landlubbers
can’t even remember last year’s war.
Angrily, rain enfolds the insular rise of lawn undulating.
Anglers dream, envious fishermen, inside looking out urging
apostles, who elope within imaginary onslaughts, hooked unburdening's.
Aloft, thunder encounters lightening's insistent taunt, oracles fearsome uttering's.
And still, each fisherman's innermost summoning orchestrates this untoward
atmospheric downfall, each drop induced, prayerful, outpouring is underscored.
Admittedly many envious housebound inmates seek oceans, lakes, unexplored
although, the earthly torrent interferes pitiless, onerous, rainfall unleashed.
Absent the energizing rays introduced by ordinary sun, undone
are these enigmatic men in rooms, oar less, ship-less, landlubbers unconsoled.
Another day encases them indoors mooning over fish uncontrolled.
A trophy earned, stuffed, indisputably shows offerings untold.
Ah, fishtails energetically rise incensed by objections never unabridged
absent their earnest wives, imagination rolls on winds un-curtailed.
Undersea exploration comes to me in my dreams
As a fish in the deep I see only faint sunbeams
Enough light there is to reveal a lost continent
I wonder what led to this golden age’s descent
Colorful fish swim among ruins of a pyramid
A former city’s gilded streets, giant squid now float amid
Huge, submerged statues of gods suddenly catch my eye
Just as a fish-tailed, sweet mermaid happens to swim by
Stroking through the water as sea plants flourish below
Unquenchable curiosity continues to grow
Is this Atlantis? Am I on the Bimini Road?
Buildings here have cryptic writings I cannot decode
Schools of many other fish are surrounding me now
Are they wondering too? Or just seeking plankton chow?
When I awake in my bed, the sheets are soaking wet
And my body is writhing in a chilling night sweat
The sights I had seen provoked deep-founded fears
The North Pole is said to shift every ten thousand years
That time is approaching; may I return to the sea?
Let me dwell in the ocean as landlubbers flee
The earth rises and sinks on a regular basis
Only in the ocean will I find my oasis
*For Gautami’s “In the Deep Sea” contest
Aye and it’d be “Land Ho”, ya lazy landlubbers!
It’s where ya’d be if ya’d had yer druthers,
Braggin’ the seven seas and swiggin’ pints of ale,
Chasin’ maidens and wishin’ on a mermaid tail!
Look sharp! Turn to! heave ho! All hands on deck,
Er I’ll have hemp stretchin’ round yer neck!
Thars work at be done afore ya see yer lovely Bettys,
Grab rudder afore ya run er up on the the jetties!
This old ship is mine from crow’s nest ta keel,
Heave to er you’ll be beggin yer next meal!
Swing the yardarm, rig the jibs, look lively, set sail!
Follow the south end a that north bound whale!
Put on yer sea legs and hand me the long glass
We be after silver mateys! Copper and brass!
Yu'd rob the gems off the pearly gates!
BILLOW THE SAILS, MATES!!
14 July 2010
The Sea Rover
Moving sideways or careening
All hands hoay and avast ye
Sea dogs and landlubbers go on pillaging
Jolly Roger is flapping guarded by cannon and artillery
Pistol, daggers, and doubloon among things inside the sea-chest
Walk the plank if they caught you as offenders
Or heave to an island and marooning them as helpless
Yo ho ho! and a bottle of rum as a way of pirate’s laughter
As the ship rolled about on high seas
Plenty of cackle fruit to serve a salmagundi
A drink of grog or bumboo wobbled their sea legs
In tossing ship, proves them as scallywags
Blow me down! alerted by a cannon blast
The enemies have climbed on their Jacob's ladder
Black spot meet their way on to Tortuga’s vast
All hearty and brave soldiers have fallen to Davy Jone’s locker
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