Long Climb down Poems
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When sirens thrash, no longer calm the sea -
bulging eyes from every sailor on the ship.
Bye-bye lullaby song, where swagger’s carefree.
Even a well-seasoned captain loses his grip.
There’s boundless beauty in the courtship -
crashing waves, sublime figure-eight sensuality.
Still, seamen should know - there’ll be no round trip.
When sirens thrash, no longer calm the sea.
Voices bellow from the gorgeous debris,
“Like rum to you, matie, come and sip.
Swim into this chalice, take a look-see.”
Bulging eyes from every sailor on the ship.
When knowing one’s name, could make him slip,
merely a lad of seventeen, “Climb down, Louie.”
The sirens entice the boy to partake in a dip.
Bye-bye, the lullaby song, where swagger’s carefree.
As the whirlpool mesmerizes, what is reality?
“It’s been a long time, you’ve had a gal, Skip.
Surely you can see the blue eyes of Hawaii?”
Even a well-seasoned captain loses his grip.
A fool believes they’ll get off scot free -
more creatures join in, stern like a head sea.
Vessel’s bones, its foundation, crack like a whip.
‘tis only legend…except, experience is beastly
when sirens thrash.
6/15/2022
A RONDEAU REDOUBLE POEM
Sponsor: L Milton Hankins
Used RhymeZone
The day is fresh
Long before the sun yawns into the morning
The sound of bells clanging
Ropes whipping the mast into shape
Creaking of the old boats
A feint smell of lobster
Rises to meet me as the zip
Rasps towards my chin
Along the comfortable material
Of the gilet
Can the ocean be trusted?
No more than the weather
No more than a wild animal
However tamed they appear
Domesticated the ocean will never be
I climb down the wooden ladder
Into the trusty boat
I pause in the moment
Feet sensing the security of
My familiar friend
Stormy seas we have seen
Yet she welcomes me back
I sense her sigh with relief
A voiceless, palpable release
As I hoist the sail
Pushing away from the harbour wall
We both know
This is not the place for us
A gull invites us to follow
So we nod along
In life we go through many phases.
And our minds go to many places.
Some people stay right where they are.
And sadly, don't go very far.
It's when we get outside ourselves.
And climb down off those dusty shelves.
That we can find a whole new world.
And spend them nuts that we have squirreled.
It seems that in today's society.
You need not move to get variety.
We sit and click and never move.
And causes health to not improve.
Then one day comes an ultimatum.
And we heed the warning verbatim.
Blood pressure's high and so is glucose.
We don't ask why and we don't suppose.
The answers clear, it's time to shift.
Into high gear to slim midriff.
And when we start to feel a change.
Our whole live's start to rearrange.
So find a way that keeps you moving.
So you can continue improving.
And soon you'll start feeling much better.
When you become a daily sweater.
And as the weight begins to shed.
You'll sleep much better in your bed.
So don't just click, get up instead.
Before you wake and find you're dead.
Could not find the kitty again; called her, she was too smart to meow.
At the top of the Christmas tree; dog told me with his gruff bow wow.
She was above two of my favorite glass bulbs, posed precariously.
Purple bulb from Russia, and my Gold K bulb from Grandma McPhee.
I removed them before I coaxed cat, who did not want to climb down.
Dog barking furiously now, he is a mighty hunter, this three hand hound.
Give me a break I told him, chasing him away from the Christmas tree.
I urged Poindexter to dismount; she was a head or two taller than me.
Poindexter knew she was in a heck of a fix, but she could not move.
So I put on some music, and I began to sway, shimmy and groove.
That did not work so I put some wet cat food on a plate.
The dog ran out from the kitchen and carried it off; what a mate!
Cat nip someone whispered inside my brain, it was the cat fairy!
So I sprinkled some around the rug at the bottom, it blew up kind of airy.
Poindexter was down fast, tree shook and quaked. She was very meek.
Had talk we always have, as it was her third time up there this week.
I am Sheberra, the Ruler of Christmas Town of Swiss Miss lore.
Overlooking the decorating that will begin at six minutes past four.
My subjects are getting off work early to begin satisfying me.
Some of the suck-ups may begin as early as a quarter past three.
It is two forty-six now, so I am high on my queen’s view ledge.
I can see some of the spies hiding under bridges; one is under a hedge
Christmas Town will be beautiful decorated to its height by tonight.
It will be a gorgeous, awesome, curiously terrific bright sight.
Some of my subjects will climb up here trying to coax me down.
They are not my regulars, rather new to merry ole’ Christmas Town.
The ones who know me, have already left gifts at my door.
Salmon sandwiches, tuna casserole, catfish cotton candy and more.
I will be haughty and dainty, and let them wonder and think.
My husband knows me better, I shall give him a wink.
We will be the Santa and Queen Sheberra of Christmas Town.
I can smell those delectable dishes calling, so now I climb down.
By the big red barn with the corn comin’ up,
By the big red barn with the corn comin’ up,
I’ll be smilin’ like an actor
As I climb down off the tractor
By the big red barn with the corn comin’ up.
Gonna greet my gal with a kiss and a hug,
Gonna greet my gal with a kiss and a hug,
Feels like harvest time inside me
With my honey close beside me.
Gonna greet my gal with a kiss and a hug.
Coolin’ fresh baked pie on a wide window sill,
Coolin’ fresh baked pie on a wide window sill,
When your mama isn’t lookin’
We can taste each other’s cookin’.
Coolin’ fresh baked pie on a wide window sill.
Strollin’ lazy slow in the shade of the lane,
Strollin’ lazy slow in the shade of the lane,
At the covered bridge I reckon
We’ll be pitchin’ woo and neckin’.
Strollin’ lazy slow in the shade of the lane.
In the shallow end of the ol’ swimmin’ hole,
In the shallow end of the ol’ swimmin’ hole,
We’ll be busy takin’ chances
With our clothes hung on the branches,
In the shallow end of the ol’ swimmin’ hole.
Watchin’ moonlight offer its gift to the world,
Watchin’ moonlight offer its gift to the world,
Lyin’ cozy with my lover
As we cater to each other.
Watchin’ moonlight offer its gift to the world.
Pee Wee small gray tabby cat
his mom was a great hunter at that
Stealth and unseen
silent and keen
at catching doves a killing machine.
Pee Wee not so much
he does not have his mothers touch
Across the street Pee Wee lives
but my front yard the young cat digs
For doves by the dozen feed
hunger for their flesh Pee Wee be
did the apple fall far from the tree
with doves a plenty Pee Wee sees
he bolts charging across the street
Doves wing high he jumps at their feet
in the trees or up in the sky
Pee Wee rushes up a tree to try
but the doves take flight away away
Pee Wee up high alone he stays
Meowing softly afraid to climb down
in the tree top Pee Wee sticks around
A dove or two feed on the ground
as Pee Wee stuck hanging around.
Away on a rooftop,
No ladder I see.
Somehow must have fallen,
I'm stuck now, poor me!
I climbed up to rescue,
My neighbor kid's ball.
When I went to climb down,
No ladder at all!
It's a hot summer's day,
The sun's roasting me.
My neighbors are working,
Now I have to pee.
My cell phone's in the house,
(Where else would it be?)
So I can't call for help,
Will someone see me?
It seemed it took hours, but
In reality,
Only minutes passed by,
"Til I was set free.
As I sat on the roof,
Contemplating life,
I see the new mailman,
An end to my strife.
"Please help me," I shouted.
"My ladder is gone.
Thank heavens you came by,
I'd be here 'til dawn."
"No problem," he replied.
"I want you to jump.
I promise I'll catch you.
You won't feel a bump!"
"Are you flipping crazy?"
I asked in dismay.
"Without a good ladder,
That's the only way."
Counting one, two and three,
I jumped to his arms.
He kept me from falling,
and coming to harm.
"Thank you! Thank you!", I gushed.
As we caught our breath.
"You surely saved me from
Embarrassing death."
We found that darn ladder,
Knocked over some how.
No more climbing on roofs,
Is my solemn vow.
The Visitors of the Fall
Some people don't climb down into your pit to lend a warm hand,
they come only to measure with their gaze how deep the tar has you crammed,
they lean over the edge of your abyss like crows made out of mist,
and count with cold glass eyes how many wounds burn on your face, unkissed.
They come with lanterns snuffed to see you, not to light your way,
their footsteps on the rim of your grave write only smoke and dust that stray,
their smile is a counterfeit coin tossed into the well of your pain,
their compassion — a parchment the tooth of time gnaws through again.
They make certain you have fallen hard enough, sunk deep enough down,
so you'll never catch up with them along their circular road around,
their happiness is a crooked scale that tips only when you break,
they breathe relieved to see that in your chest just shattered glass you rake.
But my mourning visitors don't know, my frozen crows of sleet,
that from the bottom of the pit the sky looks cleaner and more sweet,
that the earth which swallowed me whole is the same that feeds the wheat,
that from the broken root the stream springs back, more stubborn in its beat.
My fall has been a school where they have never set a single foot,
I've learned to make a ladder out of darkness, flight from stone and soot,
every humiliation stitched me up inside with thread of fire,
every eye that watched me falling honed my outline sharper, higher.
And when I rise up from the pit — not crawling, but mast-straight and tall,
I will not seek them out to hurl the stones that burn in me at all,
I'll pass them by the way a river passes by its silent shore:
too whole to count who wished to see me at the bottom anymore.
A no answer machine
Our basic instincts are to find love and run through the woods.
From the tree’s we climb down to walk like a man;
No longer on all fours.
Now we do not need to give thanks, for the food we have;
We deserve to be full.
All beautiful art fades eventually,
As we all become too dull.
No more to say…
I let it all just slide away.
Nothing will be relevant on the final day.
Keeping up with the Joneses;
Mobile phones are diseases.
Conversation is dead;
Only speak if it pleases.
Couple’s councilor, I could not manage to go.
So come or go, or let me go, if you think that I would care.
Love is not amazing anymore,
I would say it is just so, so.
Why would I bother speaking to you, when you are no longer there?
Phone on silent;
She is a no answer machine.
No reply necessary;
The end of the dream.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.