Long Boats Poems
Long Boats Poems. Below are the most popular long Boats by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Boats poems by poem length and keyword.
Wedges
He looked at me
huge chestnut wedged
in happy teeth,
bushy tail,
fully fluffed,
soft warning
of a hard winter
approaching.
He did not have time
to talk
no chatter today,
only business,
no time to dance
with the Robins,
confer with the
Cardinals,
hang around the
water cooler.
The Vee’s of summer
honking
as they battle the
gridlock of migration,
a strange mimicking
of the farewell
to Cape Cod -
back-ups at the
Bourne and Sagamore
bridges. The warmth
of summer would
recede, as a late tide
on sunset’s emptying beach,
the cool ocean breeze
erase the evidence
from the sand.
Seagulls would bemoan
the shortage
of French fries,
return to the
fishing boats and
a sushi diet.
Dogs will sit
and whine as
they watch the
children disappear
into the big yellow boxes.
The brushstrokes of Fall
will color the horizon,
groups of crispy,
crayola colored leaves
dance around the
trunks of trees,
crocheting a quilt
to tuck under the
chin of old shade.
The songs
the tones and tenor,
the daily demeanor
will take on an urgency,
a purpose.
The squirrel stops,
perhaps a rodent
coffee break, sits
on the fence,
in the sun
as if reflecting,
and is off again
to the base of the
old Chestnut tree
to fill his mouth
with wedges of
the future.
For Kelly Deschler Summer’s End contest
8/28/2014
Poetic Licence
I've been granted my Poetic Licence,
Which allows me to write as I find.
Exaggeration here, embellishment there,
A free spirited open mind.
With vivid inspired imagination,
I see clearly the world around me,
Never letting the truth spoil a good story,
My pen writing the things I see.
As I look from my bedroom window,
An apartment in an industrial town.
Wildebeest migrate to the Serengeti,
Silhouette of Giraffe, as the sun goes down.
Fishing boats come to safe harbour,
Greedy Seagulls stealing their cargo.
The full Moon appears over the horizon,
Illuminates the seascape all aglow.
Stonehenge is in the far distance,
A Spiritual place of ancient times.
Eagles and Red Kites soar up above,
I’ve added this line because it rhymes.
Camels roam the hot dusty Desert,
Tribesmen take fine goods to trade.
Crocodiles in Wetlands, South Florida
At home in their tropical Everglade.
Bluebells are singing in the Meadow,
Tulips and Daffodils harmonise.
How wonderful, thoughts so inventive,
A world seen through imaginative eyes.
The Great Wave Off Kanagawa
Morning, and the fishers put out to sea
with joy and farewells to their families,
unaware that today they would meet with fate
and fight for their lives against a rogue wave.
“Bend your backs to the wind, row and repel,
vain Kanagawa; reprieve yourselves!”
spewed, in a boast, the Kami Tsunami
amid the background of Mount Fuji.
Fear seized their hearts, and terror blazed in their eyes;
their hands bled, and their muscles groaned in agony.
They who boldly bragged were cowards in the throes
as the boats were tossed on the vast ocean.
Frothed with rage, the tempest would not relent,
incensed that they take, without recompense,
the bounty of its trove with gluttony,
as if deemed chosen to exploit it with greed.
The challenge met and defeat imminent;
victory, though sweet, claims countless victims.
In disbelief, they maintained their postures
as the wave splinters the wooden structures.
The end is near. “All is lost!” or so they thought;
on their knees, one by one, they made peace with God.
And in this, their last hour, they in despair
prayed that the storm abate and so were spared.
***
Note:
Although the wave in Katsushika Hokusai’s (1760–1849) woodblock print “The Great Wave off Kanagawa” (circa 1826/33) is often portrayed and described as a tsunami, it’s debatable whether it was the way in which Hokusai meant it to be interpreted. The waves in his famous work of art can be referred to as “okinami” (great offshore waves).
Ice Breaker
doomsday glaciers melting rest upon seabed
benign blizzard temps endanger ground zero
turbulence cause a desert
warming waters near frozen lakes I shall fear
Iceland volcano displays her open wounds
magma of our Earth’s crust vomits Her vengeance
blue lagoon shimmers of red blood polar bear
global sea level rises
accelerating where there should be more ice
magic gone shows no mercy
dazzled domain of milky beauty lacks snow
sandstorms in the ice bubble
millennia of the past we inherit
minke whale
blubber made into goulash
expedition boats bulbous bow ice breakers
who will dominate Antarctica's future
consolation prize has awarded no one
my world shall go from snow white to a blue sea
sixty eight percent freshwater flows freely
I fell headlong into a poem
And was immediately swept away
As words passed by on paddle boats
They pulled me in their wake
The sweet dew of sonnets glistened on the shore
Lined with allegory trees
Dripping with fruit of poetic glaze
As a rhythmic breeze rustles through the leaves
There was an ode of maidens in a field
Cultivating the finest of verses
With colors of yellows, pinks, blues, and reds
From amongst the rows of stanzas
The cool lapping of the waves
Brought the imagery to its peak
As the metaphoric stream I floated down
Opened up into a sea of dreams
I fell headlong into a poem
And was immediately swept away...
In the city, I don’t have
A terrace or a yard.
I’m envious of those who have
Been blessed in that regard.
But if I want to feel the breeze
In quiet contemplation,
I walk down to the river
For a bit of relaxation.
I plunk myself upon a bench.
The river flows below;
And watch the boats go chugging by,
To where I do not know.
Behind me, bicyclists whiz past
Or joggers, keeping pace;
But I’m content just sitting
With the wind upon my face.
It isn’t private – I must share
My view, my bench, my tree;
But like so many things in life,
It’s good enough for me.
Ilene Bauer (http://primetimerhyme.blogspot.com)
It was the time,
When there was no sign of dawn and dusk
Hot summers and chilled winters gave us new tasks
Heavy storms and rains brought us holidays
In return, we gifted boats of papers and clays
It was the time,
When days were spent in chanting numbers and rhyme
And face was covered with candy grime
We never knew why the orange fireball chased us
But longed to dine with the moon on a cloud bus.
It was the time,
When cycle rides were roller coasters
And one candy could buy a million kisses
Wet summer mud was yummier than cadburies
And our cute talks were considered as juicy as strawberries
Babyhood is so precious and angelic
Don't kill it with a sickle and brick
It's the Spring time in every Jack's life
Let kids dance and jump to the waves of Fife.
Preserve every moment of Childhood
Keep the memories alive in every bark and wood.
Wandering the two in between the kingdoms
One side, quiet and bright, flagged the havens
The other, earthly world, noisy and light dim
Drifting up or down when the moody flow faint
To brightness fly and blurring dim fall
Somewhere belonging may lack for souls
Quiescent and chaos changed as tides floated
Uneasy and wobbly similar to traveling boats
Up or down, with straw sticks grasping
Steering wheel holding for the time clouds
Time goes likewise the seagulls chasing
From starting point to the place anchor
Heart awaits longly for people nauseating
While mind gonna sparks be star exciting
Straight out of prison
Wondering what I've been missing
Right out of the gates I stuck out my thumb
A van load of hippies
All from Mississippi
Stoped and asked, hey dude...what's going on
I'm here for adventure
Well hop in then Mister
Adventure is what we're all about
Now where we're all going
There's no way of knowing
A van of hippies and parolee freshly let out
We ended up in Disney
Me and all of the hippies
Where we had caboodles of fun
We met Mickey and he saw it
When I lifted his wallet
Now we're in the Magic Kingdom all on the run
We split in different directions
To throw off detection
It's A Small World is where I made my mistake
With that song stuck in my head
It's a fate worse than death
Prison now sounds like a wonderful place
We rendezvoused in
The Pirate's Of The Caribbean
Where soon after, in came the law
We all jumped from our boats
Splashing around in the moat
And had ourselves a good old fashioned pirate brawl
We soon made our escape
Out of exit door 88
Finding ourselves in Frontier Land at night
Where in the middle of the street
Were Mickey, Donald, and Goofy
All with guns strapped to their sides
We ran into a shop
And bought guns on the spot
All with Mickey's money...he's a mouse of a man
Mickey squeeks we're going to ruff you up
As Goofy holds up the cuffs
And Donald says something we can't understand
We had a shoot out
With cap guns no doubt
After all Disney runs a safe place
Ran out of caps in our guns
Which stopped our lives on the run
The wrath of Mickey we all now would face
After justice's hammer
I'm now back in the slammer
This time I made my own prison bed
Now I cry every day
What more can I say
With It's A Small World still stuck in my head
They packed us in ships and boats.
Sardines have more space in their cans as compared to us,
Low ventilation, no water, little food,
Out of our land of abundance, land of riches, land of gold,
We sailed off to the land unknown,
‘Door of No Return’, that was the last door I saw in my homeland.
With shackles on our necks, ankles and wrists, we were led sheepishly to the ship,
When we complained, they lashed us, when we rebelled, they killed us,
And the weak amongst us; they were maltreated.
My sister was force raped yesterday; it’s my fiancée’s turn today,
We were supposed to get married last Sunday,
“I’ve been shot in one knee”, an Old Norse slang,
I’m married; I was going to tell my friends,
But the sun sure didn’t smile on me on Sunday,
Now in a new land, new soil, we’re auctioned like some merchandise,
I thought they only wanted our gold, or was it not enough; the additional cocoa,
Now we work on their plantations, from dawn until dusk,
We’re forced to speak the Whiteman’s language,
We’re forced to eat their food and dress like them,
And the very thing that make us Africans; our pride, It’s been taken from us,
So I wonder the kind of future that lies ahead for our unborn generations,
I wonder if our rich values, our norms, our traditions,
I wonder if they would be passed down to them,
Africa, my story.