Long Brig Poems
Long Brig Poems. Below are the most popular long Brig by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Brig poems by poem length and keyword.
A UK Royal Mail Ship was RMS Rhone
A sail-steamer and a two-masted brig, she shone
Rhone had an iron hull and was 310 feet long
Her compound steam engine made her fast and quite strong
An innovative ship with a bronze propeller
To save water, she had a surface condenser
The first ship so equipped to visit Brazil port
Pedro II, the king, came to see her engine fort
Left Southampton on 9th Oct., 1865
On her maiden voyage; despite troubles, she thrived
Her next five voyages were also to Brazil
Then transferred to Caribbean route, she was thrilled
Rhone proved her worth by weathering several storms
But who can escape when Mother Nature performs?
On 19th Oct.’67, Rhone and Conway
Bunkered in Great Harbour, where they stayed for few days
San Narciso Hurricane, last of the season,
Worried both captains - ferocity, the reason
Passengers from Conway were transferred to the Rhone
Conway was too soon foundered by the storm full-blown
Rhone struggled to get free, her anchor was caught fast
It was cut loose as Captain Woolley thought it best
To escape to open sea was the Captain’s plan
Sailing ‘tween two islands, avoiding Blonde Rock’s span
When Rhone was less than 250 yards from safety
The winds threw her into Black Rock Point directly
The lurching crash sent Captain Woolley overboard
The ship broke in two, causing engines to explode
The bow in 80 feet, the stern in 30 feet,
Rhone sank swiftly, the “unsinkable”, now dead meat
123 killed, were buried on Salt Island
On 29th Oct., Rhone met her sad end, unplanned
The wreck of the Rhone is now a famous dive site
Turned into a National Park , she’s a rare sight
Today, it’s visited by hundreds of tourists
And in a way, the historic Rhone still exists.
11.05.2021
12 syllables per line
For Robert James Liguori's "A Noteworthy Ship" contest
Jobless Jack, a real jerk, dances a jig,
He juggles, smuggles jewels in backpacks,
jawbreakers, jump ropes, jelly rolls and crack.
~~Jig be up, Jack'll jiggle in the brig.~~
Junk jingles and jangles, squeals like a pig
jerked and jacked from joints on his pickup routes.
Amid crates of jackets, jeans, and jump suits,
Jobless Jack, a real jerk, dances a jig,
Jack jimmied the Jaguar trunk of some prig;
now Judge Judy’s searching Jack's jalopy.
“Jumping Jehoshaphat, what’s this jersey?"
~~Jig be up, Jack'll jiggle in the brig.~~
Jobless Jack, a real jerk, dances a jig,
her missing jersey was what the judge found.
~~Jig be up, Jack'll jiggle in the brig.~
written 1/31/2018
a villonet
Sponsor Constance La France
Contest Name ''J'' Contest, New or Old
senses
it is about now knowing what you know except in certain circumstances
when fractures appear; when the past and the future merge.
The authorities were looking for a sunken U-boat using underwater drones
they found many things
A brig, sunk in a storm a luminosity of a lone figure looking up and smiling
before turning into unseen dust.
A German U-boat surrendered, waving a white cloth but such was the hatred
the boat was sunk anyway
They found the submarine had a design flaw when diving too steep an angle
the sub could not rectify itself but kept going down.
They heard and didn’t hear the scream of a young realizing he should never know
the sweetest love.
The fifth dimension is the moment when the past and the present merge and
everything is understood clearly but never spoken of
At dusk, his eyes, dark brown. At once I melt.
Again, and yet again, with each sweet kiss.
Bright stars! He’s asked to marry me. He knelt,
With “trust me baby this is love,” in this
Romantic place of time and space. Knees weak.
A vestal moon shades blush this pale white dove.
His breath abates. He yearns for me to speak.
His heart’s been tossed inside the brig of love.
I wont to keep facade of logic’s sense,
But sky’s alight with truth and sappiness.
His “trust me baby this is love” intense.
His dusk dark browns lean into happiness.
Oh twilight moon! My beau is turning blue!
A crimson crescent smile exhales, “I do!”
6/25/2017
Sonnet
1st Place
Ghost Ship
Benjamin Briggs a master, with three previous commands
Took over the ill fated ship, which was to prove to be his last stand.
The ship originally named the Amazon, was 103 feet long
She was listed as a half-brig, and everything seemed to go wrong.
She had a lot of accidents and passed through many owners hands,
Eventually she turned up in New York, for sale and a new command.
She was sold and refitted; the owners bought her for a song.
Then they had her re-registered, to maybe help right the wrongs.
Captain Briggs his wife and child, in eighteen seventy two
Set sail on November the seventh, plus an extra seven man crew.
The cargo was seventeen thousand barrels, of raw American alcohol
They set off for Genoa Italy, not forgetting his daughters’ toys and doll.
On December the fifth half way between the Azores and Portugal
The Dei Gratia spied a brigantine, but it didn’t look right at all.
He watched it for two hours because he recognised the ship
The brig, that he had been in dock with, and he knew Ben commanded it.
It was sailing all wrong, it was yawing on the sea.
Captain Moorhouse knew Captain Briggs, was the captain he should see,
They took a boat out to the ship, and boarded her when they could,
On climbing aboard they found the ship to be empty, but all sound and good.
There was plenty of food and drink, but all the ships papers were gone
The ships clock was not functioning, but of the compliment*, there was none.
There should have been a lifeboat, but that was not there now
Just a frayed rope hanging in the sea and they didn’t know why or how.
Captain Moorhouse was perturbed knowing his friend Briggs to be in distress
He took the ship into to tow, it was named the “Mary Celeste.”
~GG~ 2011©
Compliment The number of crew on board a ship*
B is for Buzzard under my hat,
my brain meaty and raw.
His talons cling like puppet strings.
His rabid teeth chew and gnaw.
Ye old Buzzard, nothing warm,
just a cold sentinel of death.
Not like the life-giving stork —
impervious to the stench of your breath.
Your buzzard form like a swarm of flies.
The maggots mirror your childhood.
The terror of your bulky brig —
weeping under my wing - your no good.
The psychiatrist dissects my thoughts.
One by one he pulls the seething strings,
whilst the buzzard glares at the Rorschach.
Irritated by the smell of ink and pendulum swing,
the suicidal creature flees to the window, succumbs.
The gift of happiness and flamingos, pink,
from my mailbox to the farthest edge.
Quite merry, maybe a bit wild, I sip a drink
of cherry cordial and admire the pink rabbits*
spiraling out of control but perfectly neat,
in row after row of planted fluorescence.
F is for Flamingo - now my crazy world’s complete.
1/9/2019
Contest: Buzzards and Flamingos
Sponsor: Anthony Slausin
Not a true story
*as rabbits multiply
Photo by US Navy WestPack Album—Gorelick 2nd top right
“Not Squared-Away”
Crawling and sliding through slimy debris
Knees scraped raw on the gritty hanger bay
We’re sailors on the carrier Coral Sea
Crossing the equator this bright April day
Our shellback ordeal-just good-natured hazing
A navy tradition; great nautical fun
Like pagons, it’s old King Neptune we’re praising
Great Zeus, let this filthy business be done!
Now shellbacks! We’ve made it unscathed, more or less
We toss our soiled clothes out to the ocean breeze
But I find myself in one hell of a mess
For I left my wallet in my dungarees!
Now drifting away is my navy ID
A grave offense if it’s lost or misplaced
It will no doubt be captain’s mast for me
Where I’ll be demoted! Denounced! Disgraced!
I stand at attention, rigid and straight
The captain shouts: You are not squared-away!
Sweating bullets, I ponder my dire fate
I’ll surely be thrown in the brig today
A lost ID at sea is close to a crime
A gross dereliction, stupid but rare
On just bread and water I will do my time
As I topple down the steps to despair
In solemn dread I now report to the chief
With a churning stomach and anguished mind
But now all fear lifts and I sigh in relief
As he snaps: Get to work; were falling behind
Written 9/11/22
Life out in the country has its own charm.
We have rifles and dogs out here on the farm.
Normal rules won’t apply if you choose to strike fear.
They won’t find your body, let’s just be clear.
We will see you coming from ten miles away.
Bring your violence out here and this is where you will stay.
We have plenty of ground on which we can dig.
We won’t call the cops and you won’t see a brig.
In the city with luck, you’ll just go to jail.
Out her you’ll be slop and end up in a pail.
We’ll feed you to the pigs or put you straight in the ground.
Either way my dear friend, you just won’t be around.
Out here I’m protected by God and my gun.
You know who we are and you know we won’t run.
We’ll sit up in a tree all day for one shot.
Even in the winter, you’ll wind up where it’s hot.
December 26, 2020
*Dedicated to the Nashville Bomber*
Awa' oan the Firth of Forth,
high oan the famous brig',
a laboring lad toils tirelessly
in the cauld and bitter wind.
Awa' aff the river shore,
a braw lassie waits for him,
scourin' and roastin' tatties
in a bonny wee but and ben.
The carls would hae him drinkin',
The cummers would pay him 'ahind the door,
but he oany has wan thing oan his mind
and she's awa' aff the river shore.
*Translation*
Away on the Firth of Forth,
high on the famous bridge,
a laboring lad toils tirelessly
in the cold and bitter wind.
Away off the river shore,
a braw lassie waits for him,
scouring and roasting tatties
in a bonny wee but and ben.
The carls would have him drinking,
the cummers would pay him behind the door,
but he only has one thing on his mind
and she's away off the river shore.
Glossary of terms:
* the Firth of Forth is the estuary of the River Forth in Scotland
braw means fine looking
tatties are potatoes
bonny means pretty or handsome
a but and ben is a modest two room cottage consisting of a kitchen and a main room
a carl is a laboring man
a cummer is a woman of questionable moral character
to pay behind the door is to engage in sexual activity as a form of 'payment' for favors, services, or goods.
Been months since I've been fishin', underneath the starry skies,
Been months since I've been fishin', underneath the starry skies,
Next week I'll go for stripers, with me I'll bring some pie.
I fish into the ocean, through all the crashing waves,
I fish into the ocean, through all the crashing waves,
I'm thinking about the bait I'll use, that I'll pull out of the bay
I make up my own tackle, simple fish finding rigs,
I make up my own tackle, simple fish finding rigs,
Couple with some healthy clams, I'll make my way to Brig'.
The foxes look to seal my bait, I'm on the watch for them,
The foxes look to seal my bait, I'm on the watch for them,
It's dark and cold all about, many weakfish fill their den.
Far away back at my home, my family barely sleeps,
Far away back at my home, my family barely sleeps,
My safety they do pray for, and filet dinners for the keeps.
Most nights it's just sharks and skates, or seaweed from the drift,
Most nights it's just sharks and skates, or seaweed from the drift,
My truck facing the ocean front, my line across the sandbar cliff.
2018