Long Albatross Poems
Long Albatross Poems. Below are the most popular long Albatross by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Albatross poems by poem length and keyword.
I have unfurled my brolly
Turned it top to tail
Launched it on the ocean
And I’m going for a sail
Across the mystic oceans
Across the rolling sea
Sailing for Japanland
My faithful brolly and me
And I shall wave to any dolphin
Blow a kiss to any whale
As I weave my way landwards
On my mystic sail
Flying fish escort me
Leaping in and out
Rising from the water
Darting herethere and about
For they’ve never seen a brolly
As Ocean going as mine
Swordfish salute me
In a pristine line
Great Albatross do guide me
Gliding serenely overhead
Mother Carey’s Children
Take night watch in their stead
Sailing for Japanland
To drink a Geisha tea
On our greatest voyage
Granny Barker’s brolly and me
I have unfurled my brolly
Turned it top to tail
Launched it on the ocean
And I’m going for a sail
Darkness engulfed me
I struggled to adjust to the shadows
blinked when my vision brought to light—
an empty room, rumpled sheets of an unmade bed
a tear-stained pillow where I'd laid my head
There was a wooden luster on the furniture
I sniffed the unmistakable church scent of candles
six long white tapers on two candelabra
My fingertips smoothed white satin beneath me
Thoughts began to drift, sifting through... what?
I was carrying the weight of an albatross
My back bent from the burden held too long
Something was wrong
A mewling of fear formed a question
that I dared not ask
In my ear, a whispered hisssss
"Go ahead and asssk it. It'sss commonplace."
A voice without a face—
disappeared without a trace
My submissive nerves feigning bravado
I tried to rise but curdled
There was a hurdle of some sort in my way
Eyelids too heavy to open
My arms reach to set me free
but I cannot move
No words escape on my tongue
I cursed the albatross that held me down
Away from me, I wanted it flung
I searched to find courage to ask
if I was facing death or a demon's call....
In my ear, a whispered hisssss
"Go ahead and asssk it. It'sss commonplace.
Asssk the question if you dare."
That voice without a face—
disappeared without a trace
I felt a kiss upon my cheek
from trembling lips that did not speak
That pungent scent of too many flowers
should've had me suffering a headache
Had I been resting here for hours?
"If this is not a dream
then tell me...." I beseeched
But the world was out of reach
Thoughts abandoned me
I tried to feel a pulse, a heartbeat—
There was another kiss
Tears on my cheek, but not my own
I froze at the sound of another hissss
Upon those who yield to anger, I should take pity
because words they spit are like sandpaper, gritty.
A loathsome temper causes them to fume and fret,
sometimes churlish ones spew what they will regret.
Restraining venom is an idea some are unable to grok.
Fury is the key to a door they have no right to unlock,
for they seek revenge when it is not theirs to take.
Hissing like the demon who was disguised as a snake.
It's amazing to what lengths their bitterness will go.
Look into their eyes and you'll see their malice grow.
A hostile fire-breathing dragon is an ignorant beast
who will spend all its time eating outrage at a feast.
They wear the weight of vitriol like a boa of albatross
when it should be thrown away. In the sea given a toss.
A temper makes foolish ones lose all sense of reason.
They may even betray themselves in an act of treason.
Rancour can be an anchor that drowns them in the sea
if they cannot cut the chain that would set them free.
It's evil to prick as a sharp thorn in someone else's side.
Irascible people are those most nice folks cannot abide.
If they continue to blow on smoldering embers of a fire
they will be burned by the contentiousness of their ire.
They should douse all glowing cinders within their soul,
to loosen shackles of angst and keep anger under control.
Into your being, Aeolus blew
an enthusiastic hunger,
Driving your curious and passionate nature
To swirl together in an eclectic dance,
Displaying a prismatic array of imaginative hues,
a zealous vortex, a colorful blur.
You were alive in a way very few
Ever were
This was you.
People said you were a mess,
a faltered and broken soul, they'd say,
an albatross placed around one's neck,
a sinking ship, a ball, and chain—
a disaster not yet made.
With jealous words, they chose to speak
but I saw the magic
they were too blind to see.
Your chaos was brilliant;
you were beautiful to me.
You calmed in my presence
enough that I could see
your aura painted with every color known to be.
And when your eyes met mine,
I could tell
they saw beyond my earthly shell.
And within your essence of spinning hues,
I saw something else there too:
a sadness,
a sadness I swore to love out of you,
to preserve the magic in your dance.
So I gave you my loyalty, time, and patience
for my love already lived within your essence’s grasp,
I was determined to heal the tear in your heart,
to mend without scars all your shattered parts.
While in my soul's embrace,
your shadows seemed to wane.
With time, the darkness did ascend—
you felt no more pain,
no heaviness within.
But as the shadows left your face,
your cyclonic presence softened its pace.
With your heart filled
and your sadness erased,
I watched your vortex still
and its colors fade.
Happy and whole, you felt content
in the family we created, in the life we lived.
Feeling ashamed, I began to pull away,
remorseful, burying the ache I could not explain.
I was angry with my own heart
for feeling confused—
in the absence of your color, I had lost my muse.
For the murder of inspiration,
my love stands accused,
missing all the initial cues
that the sadness I sought to remove
was more important to me
than I ever knew
I understand now what your sadness did—
it held open the wound where your magic lived.
And the pain that wound made, it gave like a gift,
stitching new feeling to every color it bled.
And with every new color, reality bent,
giving birth to a finale of colorful spark
That ignited the beautiful whirlwind of chaos
I loved with every ounce of my heart
Spring; the ice is melting,
trickling from mountain glaciers, racing towards
the vast ocean.
The moon gleams from high above the river,
cradling the tides in its silver quiver,
watching frothing waves chase the fleeing water
like a mother watching her two playful daughters.
Swift currents skirt a field of flowers abloom,
invisible but for their blossoming perfume,
their petals white in a ghostly costume.
They feel not the icy flakes, nor the winds that keep them awake;
all that's left is the moon.
Who sees her for the first time tonight?
Who did she first see when she first shone?
Generations have flown by, each different to the last,
yet the moon appears unchanged, steadfast.
Who does she wait for?
Clouds, darkened by the skies, drift past,
their silhouettes radiating uncertainty so vast.
Whose husband sails tonight?
And where lie his beacons of love; his light?
Though they cannot see or hear each other's prayer,
they call to the moon that shines with care
on the sailors cap and bedside mirror
uniting them beneath argentine slivers.
An albatross soars across the bay,
forever casting its shadow on the rippling waves.
Last night we dreamt of thawing lands;
suddenly spring is slipping through our hands.
The river rushes, like time wasting away
as the moon slips beneath the ocean spray,
sinking our yearnings of home
that sail on its reflection
and scattering willow leaves
across the water in all directions.
Do you recall when we saw together the sea
On the ancient city of Alexandria?
Which light we saw in the sky? Dusk or Dawn?
There was a nest hidden in the green lawn
With a single egg with white shell?
Loud or soft were the waves continual roar,
As we saw the albatross soar?
Did we together call it an angel of luck?
And from your lips, a kiss did I pluck?
On the ancient city of Alexandria,
There is a realm under the heavenly blessed sea
Where the angels do dwell?
This day I fancy but in my mind cannot foretell:
I just want to never forget,
The first time we faced heaven from near
the cymbals and harps playing so we could hear,
passion dissolved as the waves white crest
washed us in our wedding rest.
Form:
Immeasurable maturation profoundly
transformed thy Shana Punim
within whose corporeal femininity
gravitas resonates and doth hum
whose unbelievable transition, now
follows the beat of her own drum
approximately four years ago,
thee second and youngest born
daughter didst squawk and crow
aforementioned fledging eagerly,
instinctively, and naturally clamoring ergo
summoning unbendable biological
propensity to grow
which, she recognized
to this papa, a regular Joe
who realized, he did not know,
the painful necessity Brexiting
"FAKE" moors whar
family cows did low
aforementioned hyperbolic fabrication,
albeit this poe
whit did cavalierly usurp license to show,
(within the third eye blind mind's)
pace of autonomy a father cannot slow
as call of the wild for kinder
(progeny) chomps at figurative bit lest...
regret (like this papa), she will
like an albatross around her neck,
thus our twittering youngest
offspring experienced beck,
and call (declaration) of independence
from being shielded
(more so sunken) within dreck,
an abysmal living situation
(with me and the missus),
whose own respective impetus
to get away from hen peck
king parents, which crimped,
cost, and castrated, or effect
similar stunted growth on mine
body, mind and spirit thereof
until ultimatums got hurled at me
extremely unpleasant twee
mend us vitriolic bile lashed out hee
ping loathsome spittle at this free
damned sole Harris son, who overstayed,
and wore out welcome Matt, now re
vile ling forsaken opportunities
forever leaving my mental, psychological
social, et cetera state to atrophy!
Fishing one day in the southern ocean
The sun had risen and was shining bright
Overhead me I heard a commotion
A snowy albatross gliding in flight.
With a huge wing span he circled around
The haul on my deck had caught his keen eye
Out of all the boats it was mine he found
He then glided down and let out a cry.
He landed on the water close to me
I reached to my catch and threw him a fish
Gone in a flash, he must have been hungry
I threw two more, for him a tasty dish .
Sailors who see them say it's a good sign
I hoped by my actions luck would be mine.
Written 16th October 2019.
Writing Challenge, October 2019 Bird - Poetry Contest
Sponsored By Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode.
Of course,I read the manual.
Who hasn't?
Words,nothing but words
Until it happens
And then it is burned,branded and imprinted
Graphically and indelibly
Into your brain.
Sleep brings the nightmare alive
Again and again
You witness it over and over
In all its starkness
There's no escape,no way out
You can't stop the bloody train in time
All you can do is spectate
An unwilling and helpless participant
By the time your eyes pick out
The figure poised on the parapet
Vulture like
You are at the point of no return
Slam on the brakes
Jolt the passengers awake
The body in crucifixion mode
Glances off the cabin glass
Pupils dilated and inward looking
Staring within
You stand frozen
Unable to avert your gaze
And then time stands still
Journey and jobs disrupted
Until the gruesome recovery
Is complete
But that frozen snapshot
Haunts my memory
Flashing up
When least expected
My albatross
Seared into my mind
Spitefully roosting
And beyond oblivion
Torturing my soul
And draining
My will to live.
Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach.
The sea reclaims its myriad young,
Kidnapped by clouds, thunder-slung;
The storm is long past with calm all around;
Albatross glide, with a whisper of sound.
Seagulls circle, dogfish sleep,
Gannets dive and dolphins leap,
But black clouds return and lightning flashes
O'er storm-tossed seas, as thunder crashes.
Once more a stealthy cloud abducts infant water,
The sea's own offspring: a son ... a daughter;
The thief sets off at a wind blown pace,
The anguished mother unable to chase.
The criminal finds refuge in a partisan crowd,
A formless body in a vaporous shroud;
The cloud has no guilt, shows no remorse,
But heads inland on a predestined course.
A hill stands guard, like a customs post;
It stabs the guilty, but allows past the host;
The rogue cloud is ruptured, severed seam and pleat,
Releasing its captives and accepting defeat.
Raindrops descend, puddles form,
A stream engulfed, a river is born,
A course is set, the sea to reach,
Meandering ponderously to a far off beach ...