Long Bermuda Poems
Long Bermuda Poems. Below are the most popular long Bermuda by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Bermuda poems by poem length and keyword.
Capt'n Jack ‘ere and dead I be
drowned in the Hoodoo Sea.
Fire lit the sky as we sailed by
not far from Bim’ni.
Dey say ders nothin’ strange out der
off de coast of Bim’ni.
But dey’v naught seen de ‘alf of it
de compass spinnin’ free.
Columbus sawr it too dey say
or so ‘is log records.
A blindin’ light, a fire ball
stunn’d all of de yeo men on board.
Some say it were a meteor
some ‘allucination
Others say it’s a mystery
yarn'd by lower stations.
Dey say ders nothin’ strange out der
Off de coast of Bim’ni
But dey’v naught seen de ‘alf of it
De compass spinnin’ free
Fishermen ‘ere ‘ave der own lore
and say ‘ere monsters be.
Some name the dev’ls triangle
I calls it Hoodoo sea....
*The mystery of the Bermuda Triangle brought to you by Capt'n Jack
please feel free to write me music!
Concerto D'amor
Whenever I'm with you,
Other things are amnesia.
Every single moment with you,
Suits decades in a catatonia.
If you were Bermuda triangle,
I'd often tread on the blast of shangri-la;
A picnic in the devil's triangle,
Run-of-the-mill than millenniums in ball park.
You're the Bermuda triangle.
I, being a wanderer.
The strong storm of South-America pulling me to you,
And down towards your smile I totter.
If you were an Iceberg,
I'd pull my Titanic towards you,
Rejoicing as you break me apart
Waters drowning the consciousness I'd built.
You're the iceberg;
Sybaritic, pudgy and turbingly symmetrical.
And I lost in the lust of the traverse,
With my patois feels your viscera.
Be whatever you choose:
A stark lasso repressing the rim of the sea?
But by bid can you loose,
Letting your waves gulp my plenary?
My heart through its mouth bleeds yearning,
Of how often for you I did fall.
Christ on a horse! I'm crazy 'bout you, honey!
This is my seven lives concerto d'amor.
19:05:01:16:48
Ancestor. Ancestral Pen. Ancestral piece. Concerto D'amor.
Well, you asked for it so here goes!
I'm five-feet, eight inches tall from scalp to toes.
Born October 1930 in Indiana - so there, I've revealed my age.
I'm blessed with great health even at this elder stage.
Happily married to my dear Vera for 62 wonderful years,
And we've met life's vicissitudes with laughter and some tears.
Two daughters Leanna and Leslie but, alas, lost Mark, our boy.
Through the years they've brought Vera and me so much joy!
I'm blessed with 6 grandchildren and 4 great grands.
(I hope to stick around for more as my family expands.)
Enlisted at age 17 in the Air Force in 1948 retiring in 1978.
Assigned to Morocco, Germany and Japan which was great!
I 'fought' the Korean War in Bermuda dodging sea shells.
Met Vera in Bermuda and in Texas we rang those wedding bells!
Retired as a Chief Master Sergeant, the top Air Force enlisted grade.
'Twas a challenging, exciting life and I'm sure glad that I stayed.
While in the Air Force I earned a degree in Justice Administration,
And upon Air Force retirement became a Colorado Bailiff for my vocation.
I like folks who keep their word, are punctual and I don't suffer jerks gladly!
Me and the Lord are working on this but I have very little patience, sadly.
I love God, family and nation and enjoy writing poetry and even though,
I've penned nearly 1200, alas, as a bard I've made very little dough!
I like steak and taters and a sip of Beringers White Zinfindel now and then,
And going to Cripple Creek to play the one-armed bandit when I can.
Sorry if I bored you but once I began writing the words just seemed to flow.
Now, you probably know more about me than you ever wanted to know!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) 2014 All Rights Reserved
Entry for Regina Riddle's "Bio Poem" Contest
9/9/17
A continual downfall
Daily was at a crawl
From so much alcohol
This problem I'm going to solve
When you keep bringing in the haul
It's sad how many of ya'll
Want to brawl
Just another brick in the wall
I'm out to ball
Unread messages and missed calls
No time to stall
When it's money, I want it all
Got to stack it tall
Not getting involved in anything small
Not pseudo
Numero uno
Out for mucho
Heart colder than pluto
It's like hallelujah
When I get that moola
Here to always outdo ya
Even If I got to use a bazooka
Or put you in waters with shark and barracuda
From here to beyond the Bermuda
I am scared, and I have never been scared in my life. We lost our radio, radar, and other electronic navigation gear when we came through the Bermuda Triangle. One of the old salts aboard this rusty gray bucket of bolts they call a tramp steamer said, we must have offended King Neptune. It is a known fact that the ship cheated Davy Jones' Locker three times when it was running convoys during WWII.
Where the storm came from, no one knows! Thirty-foot waves of blue-green foamy water are breaking over the bow flooding the main deck and throwing a salty mist spray over the bridge. The off-duty watch are confined to their racks for safety while the ship bobs and rolls like a roller coaster in the trough of the waves. Many lie there and pray as they listen to the moans and groans of the ship-expansion joints as the ship twist from side to side. Some of the sounds, sound human and I'm not so sure that they're not. I felt as if someone was calling me to come and join them in the briny deep.
By: Poet Sonny Roper
lacking gallantry
heave round in Satan's abyss
death clock off duty
By Poet
8/17/2021
There's a water shortage in countries,
especially where there's strife,
and air conditioning is needed,
to lead a pleasant life.
We also have bone-dry Bermuda
where, except for 5" monthly rainfall,
collected in cisterns or brought by tanker ship,
there's no water to be had at all.
Attempting to inform the people in power,
an endeavour which failed of course,
what every island AC emits,
and it's their free drinking source.
As AC units create water naturally,
on average 5 to 20 gallons
of condensate per day,
producing H2O from humidity,
it's a crime to let it waste away.
It may be but a drop in the bucket,
and yet, place a clean container,
when the unit is switched on,
to collect the drips
of distilled water, safe to imbibe,
below the condensation drain,
and you may have a million sips
again and again and again.
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
When happiness settles in my chest like a gentle sunbeam,
I become a circle rolling lazily on the green field of grass,
I hit a tree standing in my way, then turn back from its shadow,
Seeking the light, rolling away from the shadow and leaves.
When sadness wraps my skin like a veil of cold, dense fog,
I transform into an ellipse, my thoughts stretching far from the center,
I struggle to return completely, to constrict myself into a circle again,
In perfect balance, where my desires meet once more.
Then self-doubt sets its throne in my soul like a heavy cloud,
And I become a triangle, a Bermuda Triangle,
Attracting every ship of optimism, lost in my mystery,
A tangled labyrinth of my worth, an endless and ancient enigma.
Then the greed for perfection unleashes from my depths,
Shaping me into a square, symmetrical, each corner carefully aligned,
I carry myself upright, at perfect angles, seeking that ideal form,
I am less a changing human and more pleasing shapes to the eye.
I am a story of lines and curves, a dance of shapes and shadows,
Always searching to find myself between eternal corners and rounds.
Ancient Atlantis was Utopia.
I know for I was a prominent citizen.
We felt loved, revered, respected.
We became complacent, haughty, arrogant.
Our technology was incredibly advanced
Brought to us through our dream states
Thanks to space travelers who deemed us worthy.
Our heads were puffed up. We were Atlantis and we were fine!
Our Utopian city was placed on an island
by Poseidon in honor of Cleito, his true love.
We were overseen by Chaos and Ydor, brother gods.
We felt beloved, brilliant, and beyond reproach.
We threw away whatever rules and ideals that stopped serving us
A weird cataclysmic evening arrived unexpectedly
A battle of fire, brimstone, earthquakes and destruction.
In vain we attempted to retain our spirituality
But we had become immoral, petty and greedy
Our island imploded, never to be found again
You can search for us
Some are still singing the song
In the Bermuda triangle
Pulling down unsuspecting planes
Loving the destruction we can impose on others
Our spiritual lessons not completely learned apparently.
PRESENCE IN ABSENCE
It been long, longer to say you've stayed
Bother not to knock at the neighbour's room for keys
That might have disturbed their sleeping pills
I lost all down the depth of bermuda without conflict
Out of pictures came the memory lane to me piece by piece
Without vice versa exchange with the moon while still asleep
If resurrection for death awaits to revisit
Welcoming without pass, passes through our gate
And when you set to sail home again without leave
See me as a whore in tempest, to rape the wind to ecstacy
Toast with the toasted bread that never ends eating alone
Let the moment go extra mile in mind with you, our walks only a mile can take for you
©Yusuf, A.O.