Long Docked Poems
Long Docked Poems. Below are the most popular long Docked by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Docked poems by poem length and keyword.
Having to forget you is a misconception.
I understand that things happen and these things we often have no control over.
Consequence.
Watching the boat leave it's pier is one of the most beautiful things.
My honest opinion.
The beginning of new experience.
The sensation of watching the odds disperse wave after wave.
Love happens.
It hurts a bit.
Being gone so long.
Docking other places, under different lights.
Finding that every city has a different sound.
A different smell.
It hurts knowing that you've docked somewhere new.
The same flow of emotion parted by the hull of your coming.
A new home.
A new place to rest your fears.
It takes courage to open up.
Thick ropes tied in knots.
An ever changing world.
More advances made in the world of travel.
How we get from point A to B.
It doesn't mean that I don't miss you.
Leaving my rope on the dock of the harbor.
Free to come and go as you please.
Having to watch my boat sail away.
The chance of knowing you may never return.
The same intimacy we shared given to someone else.
It's the same understanding that hurts tenfold.
Knowing these changes must be made in order to progress.
Going out on the town to find myself back here waiting for your return.
Relating to the tears of the ocean.
A new experience we both separately share.
The nights spent alone in wait.
The pier lined up with different ships and boats.
None of which are never you.
It's impossible not to miss you.
Holding on to your beauty, grace.
Waiting for my ship to return.
Knowing that it will never happen
Entered to take part
In Robert James Liguori
A noteworthy ship poetry Contest
Wednesday
27th October 2021
From Liverpool
The Port of Empire
He came was born and wanted
away and out from that moment
on
And at the tender age of 16
he enlisted in the Royal Navy
In search of adventure on the high sea
A good looking boy with a full head
of hair
Wanting to be anywhere elsewhere but home
Write and send postcards from every
port he docked
Assigned thereafter posted to Plymouth
To sail board the noteworthy ship
H.M.S Cavalier
Gerard Vincent Flaherty
Rank Stocker Petty Officer
Set sail for the 4 corner of the earth
I've seen the pictures he later regaled
the tales with jolly gusto
And now to me as definitely was to him
That most noteworthy of Ship is
currently dry docked in Chatham
Kent
Buy yet sadly he did not get to see
for himself as taken some year's
earlier by cancer was his final fate
to be
Not so much a noble sailor's end
sinking beside his company selflessly
protecting saving other's lives
Terminating at Davy Jones locker
to sleep and rest peacefully aboard
a sea bed hammock taking in tots
of rum rations
So unfortunately it was up to i
my mother and sister to go and
see it
Not so much for ourselves but the
eye's of he and we're luckily enough
to be blessed welcomed to step onboard
I only wish my father had lived long
enough to witness it for himself
My mind boggles at the very thought
of just how much happiness it would
have brought him
And why of all the ship's in all the
world that have ever sailed
H.M.S Cavalier is the most titanic
noteworthy unparalleled Ship
My Father's Ship
Heart and Soul
While meditating earlier today,
a flashback leapt
clear for me to assay,
those ever receding
early boyhood daze,
now subsumed within fifty,
plus nine shades of gray
blissfully innocent naivety,
(though blessed) no way
would, aye desire to turn back
the hands of father time (hypothetically),
where unstructured play
regularly with older sister
(thirteen plus months
my senior) predominantly
slicing, sliding, and slipping
stockinged feet skittering
across slippery basement floor,
this then soul full
skinny thing bellowed hooray.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"I'm Matty Mattel; I got hurt;
Can you go out?"
Those words uttered
by the very first
pull-string talking doll
Mattel did tout
circa nineteen sixty
revolutionizing the birth
of quasi simulated (lifelike) toys,
and made of common
materials found scout
ting around the house simply comprising
hard vinyl (i.e. pseudo
plaster of Paris) head he did flout
with remaining body
stuffed with padding,
a definite no
no (chew toy) when Fido about.
Actually that pooch,
would be Georgie to you,
(a hybrid Boxer Dalmatian)
with docked tail
my young parents acquired,
when as a newborn,
aye did inconsolably wail
though recollection of such memory
fifty nine years ago tis of no avail
yet, a resumption of meditation,
sans lightness of being
(analogous trancelike state),
that doth prevail
replaying silent film preceding,
when psyche seem so frail
plummeting into emotional abyss
the nadir i.e. anorexia nervosa
pleading return to nostalgic boyhood
decrying change hide didst bewail!
There once was a Vulcan named Spock
embarrassed when people would mock
his strange pointy ears
He would burst into tears...
until he had both of them cropped!
We all know a Captain named Kirk
It was well known that he was a jerk!
When the Enterprise docked
when he saw Mister Spock
he'd laugh at those chopped ears, that hurt!!
Each one of the Enterprise crew
felt that Spock's self-esteem was so blue
that they grabbed Captain Kirk
by his feet, like clockwork
and tossed from the spaceship he flew!!
Mister Spock's ears had finally healed through
He pierced each with earrings brand new
Captain Kirk in disgrace
Floats in deep outer space
What became of him?....nobody knew!!
All the evidence was quickly erased
Mutineers did not leave any trace
Although Kirk may be gone...
He lives now, in re-runs.
So you "Trekkies" can still see his face!!
Day's later we are to arrive in Greece
and we have no Captain
and no tresure. He who cammands is A fearful foolish person.
The oils are resticted due to his fear of thrist
and the fruit stored have soured
due to his lack of knowledge.
The salted fish shall fill these bellies
until we have sailed into Greece
and what sjhall we tell these people.
Scylla has taken both Captain Crew and treasure.
What are they to say of us.
They arrived at Crete, and ships met them.
They ordered us into a particular place in the harbor one said.
They asked nothing and we said nothing.
We were ordered to stay aboard, we stayed in harbor
for Five days. On the Night of the fifth day meats and
wines were sent aboard. Breads fresh made with salads and fruits.
The wines were like no thing we had ever tasted they were
great wines said the guy who had taken the helm.
A member of the Roman Navy had boarded the ship
he told them of a ship docked down stream that had arrived
Seven Days before them. He told them they were said to
be sunk and a Sae Creture had Swallowed them
A six headed sea Creature.
He asked them not to come ashore until he could
determine what was going on.
Casear was in Greece to hear the Operas of Beautful Women
anbd we wished you to tell your story to Casear.
Your rhyme reads like a rap they say,
a rap I say,
a rap they say,
perhaps but rap is rhyme you see,
it's rhyme really,
it's rhyme you see,
this poem is not lyrical,
no not at all,
not lyrical,
'cus songs use words repeatedly,
repeat you see,
repeatedly.
We'll use that as the chorus,
it's easy and thoughtless,
lets build a rhyme fortress
with verse summersaultus,
not a word but I don't care,
eating apples grapes and pears,
seeking angles of praise from flair,
story starts now take a chair.
Out in public with clothes removed,
I've had this dream but now it's true,
a dude that's nude and on the move,
without a pube all in plain view,
swing it like a helicopter,
round and round 'til someone stops ya,
grab some weed and party poppers,
run down streets to dart from coppers,
drinking aftershock that shocks ya,
always after the shot has docked ya,
stick your head between some knockers,
wake up thick lipped at the doctors.
(Chorus)
Write it like a conversation,
it might give it a new dimension,
in that last verse you forced the rhyme,
of course that's fine in this rap rhyme,
'cus rap is rhyme it's rhyme they rap,
that is a fact a fact is that,
by it's nature rap is rhyme,
if it reads like a rap then it reads like a rhyme,
does that mean always rhyme is rap,
of course it isn't it's less than that,
now that sounds mean,
what do you mean,
rap rhymes are rhymes and rap,
rhymes just rhyme they're not rap,
well what's this verse then is it rap?
No my friend this verse is crap,
I hope they remember this is a conversation,
they're not reading you lost their attention.
(Chorus)
A third verse now this is long winded,
it's forced and pointless poets cringing,
get back to the story,
now you were knocked out,
yes and I remember nowt,
then what the hell's this rhyme about,
it's like a selfie with lips that pout,
no one cares except the poser,
that means no one notes the nose hair,
wrap this up it's going nowhere,
rap it up like you're a rapper,
this poem keeps on getting crapper,
no one's read as far as here,
in this worse rhyme you've wrote all year,
at least it flows like hip hop songs,
it flows with flow its flow is strong,
to flow like this use words not long,
here's the chorus lets sing along.
(Chorus)
it reads like a hip hop
POTD 17/10/2018
This last few years
Had seen fighting so coarse
Having vowed never to fight
Viewing histories remorse
The black angels of angst
Went back on their word
The earth for themselves
It's what they preferred
No explanation
No discussions met
Their war on the innocents
In their mind was set
Attacks they launched
No one was spared
Children slaughtered
They did not care
Weeks and months
Passed like days
Earth to be lost
In their deathly plays
A time traveller
From the past was called
Semaj to the Galaxy
His past exploits recalled
He was the one
Who downed Racolyn
The Butterfly winged Elf
Never to be seen again
The Parliament of Federation
His presence requested
The read of his past
Again to be tested
In hangers were gathered
Angels in flocks
Like squadrons of light
Beside their space ships docked
Loaded on board
The water of life
In missile form
To rid the black strife
Orders given
The space ships depart
To save natures earth
Again to restart
Co-ordinates entered
Black angels located
The water of life
Divine of the created
All weapons are primed
Loaded to demise
Ignore the crying
For the blackened dying
Hours and days
As the white angels fought
With Semaj leading
In heraldic taught
Black angels retreating
Their fight fading to light
The last of them captured
Earths Parliament in delight
We thank Semaj
And Etto his droid
Another scar for this planet
In possible avoid
The war of the angels
Had come to an end
White versus black
In victorious mend
On this planet earth
In it's year 2338
White angels are predominant
Nature's soul mate
As the fishing boat was leaving away from the harbour.
A sad woman, with tears on her cheeks, blew a kiss to her lover, who was watching at her from the boat, while he waved.
She stood up there, until the boat disappeared in the misty ocean.
Seagulls flew around the cold dawn,
above her confused and thoughtful head.
Melancholic, she left the harbour to her daily chores.
Months passed, and she went back to the same meeting point.
It was still dark in the morning,
and the gentle summer breeze caressed her face.
Happy, with a big smile painted on her face,
she saw the lights of the boat approaching.
Her heart beat faster
when she could see her lover waving at her.
As soon as the boat docked,
she jumped onto the boat to welcome
her loved one with the biggest kiss for months.
My people are shipwrecks,
they have faces long crushed by tanks.
Many are landlocked,
a few were too oceanic
they got broken by dry-docked hearts.
Most were blitzed by smokescreens.
The trees and industrial units
are so tightly packed,
that snow can only fall
in thin shafts of squeezed daylight.
You can get silenced or dead in those
cold spotlights.
At the edge of the cut lumber
yearlong tractors unearth muskets
discarded by the few who held fast
only to retreat to boneyards and sweatshops.
The unauthorized have been
censured and cancelled,
mute now the people hide their souls.
We took a road much travelled,
a stream of masked riders escaping,
it was a mad rush
to keep up with the fear.
When we got there, we could only
mill about like sheep behind the razor wire.
My people peer form the margins,
form tented tribes native to junkyards and jetsam.
They are washed up as shoreless wreckage,
gaunt reminders of all things forgotten.
They dream of that slim peninsular.
They dream-walk to the end of its long pier,
grasp the last flimsy rail
that keeps them safe from
the past and the future.
An ancient cycle of storms pounds them,
pounds that rickety quay
as it finger-points to nowhere.
The sea slaps their faces,
until they cannot stand, but must sit
inside their open mouths,
be just funnels
for the unrelenting winds
of dark times.
I walked outside in the scorching heat moving papers and turning over pages just looking for that one line that goes back to the middle ages. The search was long, the documents were strong and the paragraph sits at the bottom with the exact words about the controversial land. Moses was deceased, Joshua was bequeathed and mimiram joined the crew when her leprosy
came through.
I traveled to Vatican City to view the writing form the thirteenth century there were piles and piles of them standing in a row but I had nowhere to go and I could not move any of them.
I had to view them with a magnifying glass or the whole thing would have fallen apart .I walked along the Vatican city underground and there were museums all around with documents that goes back to the creation of the earth but they were all sealed up in dirt.
Something caught my eyes from the back and I continue to move my eyeball over the lines to see what historical data I could find. I just wanted to fit the pieces together until I could uncover the secrecy, and just when I thought my long search was done a cockroach crawl up from the corner and there it was staring at me, the very line that illustrate my dignity. A thousand cameras pointed at me from every angle, I could not touch or move a thing until the vessel I had memorized the plaintiff hymn.
The Priest kept juggling on the floor and the Roman soldiers keep asking for more, the theater was where it all began with a harp a violin and a harmonica riding on the gondola and singing a song. They were all playing for me as the discovery breaks the bonds of history to uncover an age-old mystery, the authentic crowd docked on the other side while I continue to hold up my pride and the gondola drift.
I try to fit the piece together so I went on a hurricane ride and landed in Peru and made my way to the city of Cuzco to connect the dots and explore the salt mine of maras and when I got what I wanted I made my way to France and visit the Mount Blanc and made a bond with Eifel tower. When the research was over, I clocked in nine hundred million dollars for a Zig Zag line and a marking on a cave that was divine.
And so the evidence was right in front of me to prove the murder in the first degree and a global fraud in the second degree. You must make haste and come and see me.