Long Ashore Poems
Long Ashore Poems. Below are the most popular long Ashore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Ashore poems by poem length and keyword.
- response to Maya Angelou's "Phenomenal Woman"
My phenomenal woman,
I have never seen another like you,
You're phenomenally, fiercely, wonderfully,
Crafted by the hand of God,
Who selflessly le you forth from his hand,
To be with us here, its all
In your razzle
In your cooling voice
In your spicy breath
It is all in you
Wonderful
Phenomenal in each respect.
You are a goddess living on earth
The wreath halo on your head is testimony,
To the divine and fine nature of your existence,
With each move of your hips
The eyes of men bow, their jaws follow suite
And they wonder what it is you search for
In your never ending joy
In your lust for life
In your hunger for living
It is all in you
Wonderful
Phenomenal in each respect.
So keep on dancing to the whistle of the sky
Keep shining more than the stars combined
For you are a Venus which is all mine
Full in her love and sex, born of the sea
The sea parted like side to side
To let you come ashore to this earth
In the breath of your spirit
In the jewel in your heart
In the wink of your eye
It is all in you
Wonderful
Phenomenal in each respect.
Even when the gods saw you walking
Cooley and slowly on the earth
They wanted to tear down the gates of heaven
Sit on top of the trees and watch you
In your life of grace as if they
Are watching players in a theatre, I said it
In the flowers in your air
In the blessing of your life
In the woman that is you
It is all in you
Wonderful
Phenomenal in each respect.
The big turtle of Galapagos.
Turtles, in general, are not good at communicating
with anyone, at least those odd figures who talk
a lot and sometimes sing
The big turtle of the Galapagos does remember
when a big storm had blown over the world and
many ships had run ashore on the island
She had been ashore laying egg in a hollow and
when she emerged, her way to the ocean was blocked
by broken ships, big chests sailors used to carry
around since they had no shells
He appeared in front of her, a man in linen trousers
said he would help her and began clearing the beach, talking at the same time as humans tend to do
His name was Carlos Hamsun, and he wore linen
trousers and matching shirt, since he was alone and
had no servant, his trousers were rather dirty
Nothing much happens in a turtle's life, but when
something happens, it remembers like having a picture taken, a photo that never fades
Since she had spent years when not laying
eggs, there was not much to tell, that is why
she remembered
Carlos Hamsun, humans have bad memories and needs
individual name, especially now with so many
tourist hogging the beach, making it difficult find
a suitable hollow to lay eggs.
Not that she lays eggs anymore, but she likes to go ashore
dig a hole and rest a bit, which is not easy now that
a bloody zoologist has made her famous
Broken levee salt laden moisture gone away
No one at least was washed away drowned
Most have their feet planted on solid ground
Friends this has left me in disarray
Now longing for that very wonderful day
When the laughter and music only sound
Within the walls of all homes is found
Will that happen before this body returns to clay
Could it happen today before the sun set
Or will it only happen when we hear the boatman's oar
Hope calls me to reach for dreams somehow and yet
Satan wants to sow my field with horrible weeds
When that boatman takes me ashore
Will I still have clutched within my heart love seeds
Wild Irish sea pounds spray ashore,
its white teeth gnaw the stone down,
each tide returns, bites as before
wearing away the brown cliffs.
The wind flattens salted bluegrass,
while gulls wheel up in the sky
soaring as on an overpass
hang gliding over the crags.
Breaking waves surge up the sandstone
Falling back as white foam veils
stroking the old wounds to atone
for the endless scouring blows.
The strong swells drum through sea caverns,
blow-holes spray up in the sky
bringing cheers to seaside taverns
for the pipe, fiddle, drum songs.
Irish seals dive through kelp seaweed
silver backs, flash through foam spray,
twisting and turning at high-speed
laughing at angry sea grasps.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
O Irish sea, carve deep tonight,
let your foam and surge shape me
for rugged crags are a highlight
on our weathered skin and shores.
Once a nation
Supremely white as driven snow,
Singularly Christian, white and male,
Purely untarnished, and aglow,
Grandeur unparalleled in fairytale.
Hence a grievance
Punitively bold as bloody hellfire,
Potently prosecuted in seats of power,
Oppressively waged against objects of ire,
Prisms of nonwhites seeking justice in the hour.
Now a leader
Colossally void as sterilized weaponry,
Glibly sanctions white phobia and rage,
Lethally enflames this proto-fascist fancy,
As corporations provide aid to the rampage.
Thus a faction
Devoutly for leader, they stand down,
Steadfastly ready for the order to kill,
All woke-ish elitists, and enemies black and brown,
That white men reclaim their rightful place at the till.
Violence of mind
Shocks no one in America,
Where thugs are part of romantic lore.
With our ascendant authoritarian replica,
Are we ready for what washes ashore?
Published in Dissident Voice: 01/09/22
Vikings in their sailing ships.
The ocean is their home.
Another of their ”buisiness” trips.
To new lands they will roam.
Hoist the sails, pull the oars.
Hone the axe and knife.
Brand new places to explore.
They love the viking life.
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
Vikings on their vessels true
Under cloudless skies.
The lookout cries, “Land in view!”
Sleepy sailors rise.
Beach the boat, jump ashore.
The village, yonder, waits.
Then say a thankful prayer to Thor.
The viking life is great!
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
But it is not all games and fun.
The captain can be a jerk.
But after all is said and done
They still love their work!
And it’s hey! Ho! Away they go!
O’er the horizon and gone.
The tide will ebb, the tide will flow.
Still, they sail on...
Under an orange sky and giant rainbow, Mestor, the free spirited son
of Poseidon, God of the sea, earthquakes, storms, and tamer of horses, climbs upon
his Narwhal, the unicorn of the sea. Setting off with bounding leaps through the
waves the beast travels at full speed.
Ten foot long spiraled tusk protrude from the head of this beautiful beast and point
towards Atlantis.
As he powers on, he listens to faint clicks, whistles, and knock sounds in the wind of
his friend who is following him.
Across the cold icy Arctic water, with excitement and adrenaline pumping, he forces
a path over and through the waves.
Wind sweeps across the dark curly hair on his face as he admires the energy and
power that the ocean waves hold.
His piercing icy blue eyes make him ruggedly handsome and lets one know that he
is in control.
A sign of glimmering movement along the beach in the silver wake of the moon
catches his eyes.
I hear a faint voice in the wind and Narwhal, the unicorn of the sea, drops me off
and I swim ashore.
Welcomed by my beloved Peitho, goddess of persuasion and seduction daughter of
Aphrodite who is waiting for me.
10/12/2015
Narwhal
The narwhal is the unicorn of the sea, a pale-colored porpoise found in Arctic coastal waters and rivers. These legendary animals have two teeth. In males, the more prominent tooth grows into a swordlike, spiral tusk up to 8.8 feet 10 feet (2.7 meters) long. The ivory tusk tooth grows right through the narwhal's upper lip. It lives year-round in the Arctic waters around Greenland, Canada, and Russia.
Cascading waves of azure wash ashore
while cerulean curls color the sky;
subservient to time and nothing more.
The Sea absorbs a zillion drops of rain,
from a melody of showers and storms;
a dominatrix of pleasure and pain.
From indigo shades to aquamarine
She is the heart and lungs of our planet,
but, we have turned Her into a latrine.
Sullied by centuries of pollution;
Her shores are littered, no longer pristine;
for we lack a practical solution.
Our once-thriving, living Sea is dying,
placing the whole world in grievous danger:
till one can almost hear Nature crying.
High tides and low tides
rise and recede,
recede and rise
from my deeps
in desperation,
as he pulls me in
day out, day in.
I cradle an ocean inside.
I see him at eventide,
though we stay connected
day and night.
He orbits me
perfectly
like a devotee!
There’s still a surge,
an urge
in my bosom;
pining at its peak
as he hides himself.
Another apex
when he’s aglow
well-rounded
in beauty, in love,
though perched afar yet.
Alas!!
As my waves crash ashore,
they make music,
fine verses,
you hear,
you admire.
I go on fire
between the lines
drawn in
from
GRAVITY.
Life is –
Beyond definition, delineation or demarcation
A puzzle, more – a riddle!!
A hard nut too difficult to crack
An ocean deep with swirls and twists!!
None has seen it in full length or breadth
Rare, it takes the course we chart
Like travelers within a phantom ship,
We sail past to far unknown lands.
Through rugged waves, we drift along,
Either to perish or to be cast ashore
So elusive, Life remains,
Like the mirage over the stretch of sands.
Seems so easily within grasp
But far, it recedes out of grip.
Like a juggler performing tricks,
It holds people to watch and wonder.
Life remains a complex sum,
Far beyond our power to solve
Why rake your brain to fathom out?
Why knit your brow and look beyond?
Safe it is-
And wiser still-
To stay awake,
And take things in their stride.
June.29.2022
Life is Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Nayda Ivetta Negron Flores