Long Cruised Poems
Long Cruised Poems. Below are the most popular long Cruised by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Cruised poems by poem length and keyword.
I got my degree from
The University of Life,
Master of Science
In Trouble and Strife.
And I cruised and I boozed
Through so many happy years,
Many periods of laughter,
One or two periods of tears.
I tried so many different ways
To reach so many different ends
Always supported and surrounded
By good colleagues and friends.
Married and widowed
I lost months in despair
Until I found another and
Learned that I could still care.
The next generation, my
Grandchildren often come to play
And i watch them grow and hope
They won't do things my way.
So I seem to have arrived
At a quietly contented stage
Amazed in all honesty
To have reached this age.
Looking back now
There's very little i would change
Maybe some words unsaid
That were spoken in rage.
And now I perform,
And for better or worse
Tell my life's story
In rhyme and verse.
The University of Life
Has been such a good friend
As somehow unscathed
I've reached life's other end.
I thank you for listening,
Hope for you all life is fine
And wish for one and all that yours
Carries on as happily as mine,
Because i got my degree
From the University of Life,
I was a Master of Science
In Trouble and Strife.
“A beautiful car is something to be adored and if possible, restored in later years
to its former beauty. Some of your best memories it keeps.” by poet
There is a very old decrepit car.
She was my father’s “baby” long ago.
Named Jaguar D – like a Superstar -
she cruised downtown with a polished glow.
The young kids oohed and ahhed when she went by.
Unwanted now – she sits in Grandpa’s field
like a pet (once adored) left out to die.
She’s rusted and busted; her window shield
is shattered, and I bet bees made a hive
inside her engine, for her hood is raised.
Why couldn't she have been restored to thrive
and as an antique, she could have been praised.
Out to pasture is her degradation;
to be towed and crushed: her destination.
The sonorous voice of God woke Jonah from his siesta one fine day,
Saying, "Arise! Get ye to Nineveh and I'll brook no delay!
I've volunteered you to go there and preach in that wicked town,
The people are very unruly - they need a good dressing down!"
"No way!", said Jonah, astraddle his ass to Joppa, fleeing from the Lord!
"If I can find a ship sailing for Tarshish, I'll try to get aboard!"
He paid his fare, went below and promptly went to sleep,
Just as the Lord caused a great tempest to come upon the deep!
The ship was in great peril - the captain shook Jonah awake.
"Hey, dude, call upon your God - see if He will calm this lake!"
Lots were cast to sort out their plight - Jonah drew the short straw.
The crew heaved him overboard and he landed in a whale's maw!
For three days and three nights he cruised about in this condition,
Praying, "Lord, I'll do anything! Deliver me from this perdition!"
The Lord heard him and brought his misery to a pleasant end,
Commanding the whale to regurgitate and deposit him on dry land!
Now this "whale" of an experience converted old Jonah,
And he vowed to the Lord he'd assume a new persona.
He scampered to Nineveh to offer a choice vis-a-vis heaven or hell!
The Lord blessed him, saying, "My boy, you did extremely well!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
The Edmond Fitzgerald was a tanker bold, twenty five thousand tons
of cargo, she held in her hole.
A crew of twenty seven sailors, a captain and a mate sailed the stormy waters
of a Michigan Great Lake.
She cruised out under a clear blue sky: they stood on the decks
as the waves slipped by.
They saw the sea birds turn away and saw the flags flutter
and the tackle swing and sway.
Sailing in the haze of the coming night, dropped her tug at the last buoy
light, trimmed her speed and headed for the south, took the wind on her bow
and a bone in her mouth.
Her radio was warning danger when came the first morn, from
out of the northern waters roared a winter storm.
The first of the season with rain and thunder, with her hole full
of cargo, she threatened to go under.
Fearful was the squall that struck her straight away and bowed
her down to her waterway.
She rose and fell on foamy swells that swept her deck
clean in a roaring hell.
The sailors below and no time to dress, she clashed and clanged
In her tangled distress.
She wallowed and floundered in a deadly death roll and
broke apart at the number six hole.
It took only minutes for the storm to take her down;
not a trace of her passing was ever to be found.
The Edmond Fitzgerald was never to be seen again, a testament
to the power of a Lake Superior wind.
I met George one spring day as he cruised by, so sexy
he was a dreamy dream on a big motorcycle
and I was so young and at a lovely fanciful age, a butterfly
we spent our days riding the country roads
our nights under the stars in parks and beaches, kissing
I could not bring him home to my parents
he was wild, untamed and a free-spirit soaring on wings
and oh, so romantic
George was my blue sky and I was so in love
one day he said to me, lets go to Florida
we will leave for Daytona Beach today
I was thinking of mother and father not approving, hesitating
but the idea of the open road was appealing
I emptied my bank account that day
packed some stuff in a old backpack
and better judgement was left behind in our dust as we stormed away
oh, it was wonderful with the wind in our faces and the blue sky above
our black leather jackets flapping in the wind in tune with the soaring roar
we stopped in small towns along the way
slept in cheap motels at night
oh, it was romantic
we arrived at Daytona Beach and spent two weeks
nothing fancy like restaurants or shopping
just an amazing vacation I have never, ever forgotten
I often think of George and what he is doing, now
________________________________
April 12, 2015
Poetry/Free Verse/wild and untamed
Copyright Protected, ID 04-662-570-12
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France
For the Premier contest, Memorable Vacation,
sponsor Shadow Hamilton, Judged 05/2015
Second Place
A SONG THAT WILL ONLY MAKE SENSE
TO EAST COASTERS! (CANADA)
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
We’ve been to L’Anse Meadows, explored the Labrador.
Cruised the Ponds in Gros Morne Park, fished Caplin from the shore.
Raised a glass at Crow’s Nest, saw the sunrise Cape Spear beach.
Sang along with Great Big Sea, kissed the Cod and drank the Screech.
We’ve inner tubed the Nashwaak, fly fished the Miramichi.
Been to Historic Village in the heart of Acadie.
Climbed the Big Bald mountain, walked on Fundy’s floor.
Coasted up Magnetic Hill, scoffed at the Tidal Bore!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Sang “Farewell to Nova Scotia|”, drank Rita’s tea as well.
Danced all night at Ceilidhs, been to the Citadel.
Strolled the shore of Baddeck Bay, where the Silver Dart took flight.
Walked the wharf called Fisherman’s, the rocks at Peggy’s Light.
Sang “Bud the Spud!” with Stompin’ Tom, watched splinters fly away.
Ate lobster at church suppers, could hardly walk away.
Picked potatoes for the farmers, back in our childhood years.
Crossed Confederation Bridge, eight miles long me dears!
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
A heritage that we all share, our blood is maritime.
We thrill to see the Bluenose, her picture on a dime.
Emotion for an ocean, gray Atlantic ever by,
Newfoundland, New Brunswick, Nova Scotia, PEI.
Ellis Pringle Craig, 2024.
A sailor I am, a sailor of life
Who
For decades have been navigating over the
Seas of existence
Many fierce storms I have faced, during the daring
Voyages that I took,
Tempests that have instilled much fear into my heart,
Much dread into my soul
For
They constantly, my very being had threatened
But
All this never were able to deter me from riding
The mighty waves
Because
The intrepidity of youth was filling my hope’s sails with
Dreams so daring
Thus
Amongst the perilous reefs of failure, I cruised, without
Any troubles,
Guided by the beacon's light of expectations that shined
Forever bright
So
After the hurricanes of many disappointments
The calm oceans of realizations, eventually I reached, that
Crossing them, a great joy it was, a cause for celebration,
Thus
When my adventurous self, finally, reached its destination,
Into
The age's harbor of tranquility, triumphantly, I entered, just hours
Before the sun went down, and there
My life’s battered boat I anchored, having pulled first down
The sails.
Now, as I am preparing myself for the closing of my days
Very nostalgic I have become, just thinking with delight
The countless fearsome storms, I once, so bravely had
Faced!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
28 August 2021
They called him Morgan Dempster Morgan
And he wore his name with pride
Though he didn’t have a heart
Just selenium cells inside
And he took all his food
From the wind from the sun
Gathered as he cruised
In his ever constant run
To and from the asteroid belt
The edge of near deep space
Helping mankind win
Their on going race
To repair their damage
To their home Planet Earth
Mining all the elements
No longer any dearth
Shunting them surely to
The growing colony base
Up there on the moon
In near home space.
The ice caps re forming
The ozone layer complete
And a growing healthier earth
Lay beneath mankind’s feet
Many lessons learned
Among those not the least
The planet was to share with every
Kind and species of bird and beast.
Gone all the ambitions of
The Colonising of space
Until they had learned properly
To care for their earth base
Morgan Dempter Morgan
Of the Android Space Fleet
Labouring with man to
Make the job complete.
Though he didn’t have a heart
Just selenium cells inside
They called him Morgan Dempster Morgan
And he wore his name with pride
Jingle, jingle... jingle
As we emptied our piggy-banks
Hoping we saved up twenty five cents
Every Saturday afternoon, we would excitedly wait
Twelve O'clock sharp the bells would ring
Screen doors flew open when we heard them
The kids in the neighborhood...
Immediately stopped doing whatever they were doing
Whether the boys were flipping baseball cards or shooting marbles
Or the girls were playing Hop-Scotch or dressing Barbie dolls
We all ran to the corner of Craig street at noon
"All Aboard" yelled the fire chief
"Drop your quarters in the box and have a seat
Don't worry folks, this old jalopy runs well"
He was referring to the little red fire truck
It was rebuilt and custom made just for children to ride in
We cruised the back streets with our hands held high; screaming
'round every bend...we laughed
Tails wagged as dog's chased behind
Putt, putt... putt
"Ride over children, exist to the rear...
See you next weekend" the fire chief yelled
The Old Jalopy Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
7-22-2019
The Eiffel Tower stabbed at a midnight
as blue as an old Muddy Waters track.
From a distance, its lace-iron skeleton
looked like a slick and oily spider-web
crowned with a glittering neon diamond.
(My Grandmère's home is across the street from it).
“Do you want to go climb it?” I’d asked Peter (my bf).
“Naah,” he’d replied, “too crowded - what’s next?”
We’ve been tourist-ing all of the big Paris sights.
As we night cruised the Seine, the rivière looked dark
and perilous - a phthalo-green snake slithering north
westerly at six times the speed of the Nile.
We took a guided tour of the Louvre - it’s a crowded
fortress and you can’t see the Mona Lisa up close.
We day-toured the palace at Versailles, with its ghosts
of past grandeurs and revolutionary, royal beheadings.
The Arc de Triomphe is just an unsafe round-about.
As we Uber’d around it, I turned to Peter saying,
“Joke time: What’s more dangerous:
a shark or an American driver in a Paris traffic circle?”
.
.
Paris la nuit = Paris at night
Muddy Waters was a singer and musician - a delta blues man considered the "father of Chicago blues." Chicago blues was electrified, hard driving and drum backed. The Rolling Stones took their name from one of his songs. He was the original “Hoochie Coochie Man."