Long Docks Poems
Long Docks Poems. Below are the most popular long Docks by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Docks poems by poem length and keyword.
The bells are calling as the snowflakes fall
Illuminations twinkle with delight
A goodwill message sent to one and all
The joys of Christmas fill this festive night.
Excited children gaze with gleaming eyes
They think of Santa and his gifts galore
Their hearts fast beating at each wrapped surprise
Anticipation of what lies in store.
The smell of cooking, stuffing, sweets and drink
Pervades the nostrils, tempting with desire.
Food in abundance, bulging glasses clink
The ambience pleasing, by a cozy fire.
In glaring contrast, by deserted docks
A hobo shivers in a cardboard box.
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Contest: Shakespearean Sonnet
Hosted by Carolyn Devonshire
Placed 6th
© 21st October 2018
Spellbound by the shimmering moonlight by the silent lagoon,
the oldest witness to every lover's secrets in enchanted Venice,
whispering soft words, afraid of being stolen by that stranger
who could be a wanderer or an intruder...
the dry leaves, beneath the drooping pine trees,
will crackle if he attempts to hear them too soon!
Moments lived into a silver night,
when the narrow streets are empty and dark
and the gondolas rest at the quite docks,
are as magical as the warm glow in these cheerful eyes;
and if our hands seem so frantic,
our quick thougths may be less romantic!
Following the trail of the ascending moon,
how loneliness is detected in her glance...
if we stare at her melancholic face!
And should we bring her a little comfort
by singing her the tune of a lovely song,
but how long will her presence loom?
Moments lived into a silver night...
are wonderfully remembered through a lifetime,
even more than that one unforgettable kiss...
while the gondolier rows the gondola through the canals
of a city that still withstands the fury of tides;
will another city be as beautiful as this?
We'll die before Venice will completely
disappear into the Adriatic Sea...
so let's cherish these moments of ecstasy,
and leave something to remember us by;
I'll write the words and the melody,
and you will sing it to her sweetly!
Moments lived into a silver night...
linger among these strong and old walls of Venice:
where the legendary Marco Polo slept,
where ordinary and famous people wept;
fall asleep on my chest and feel the sea-breeze,
by morning we'll be awaked by a brilliant light!
The sea, precociously sails, toward shore.
A curious imp of a child is he.
The waves, like whirligigs, with laughter roar.
There’s no other place i’d rather to be —
where sequin splashes, touch the wind then flee.
With precious charm, his true blue eyes foresee.
With strong limbs, wrestles monstrous whales, and knocks
over huge sandcastles, built with small hands.
He blows on boats and slides under their docks.
Don’t turn your back on him! He’ll wave his wand!
Still kind, he stops, befriends the suntanned sand.
Resolved to do his part, he trims the land.
But role of dad — the king releases calm.
The impish sailor shamed, dropped in time out.
This pampered teenage child, hears preach from mom:
“Draw out wild waves, from deep, to crest and mount!”
Her misty eyes know what this life’s about.
“Reign well, my son! Swells held up high, froth clout!”
With thirst, I turned away to grab a coke,
then crash, swept off my feet —the wave it spoke.
1/26/2018
Laura Loo’s Urban Sonnet Contest
Rhyme Scheme: ABABBB- CDCDDD- EFEFFF-GG?
Some folks like to say that life’s a beach
Build our castles in the sand and then we dive
But there are few who care enough to reach
And pull us back from the ever rising tide
When we’re content to stroll along the surf
Delighting in the treasures that we find
No one else can tell us what they’re worth
Or how much we’ll regret those left behind
When we cast off from the old, familiar docks
And venture forth into waters yet unknown
It’s your loving light that spares us from the rocks
Your warm glow that guides us safely home
And even in the darkest of our nights
When all seems lost, we will still look to you
And although we no longer see your light
We still feel your presence, strong and true.
In loving memory of
Truman Burgess
1940 - 2023
Homeless Alexander
Why are you so bloody happy,
Living in your cardboard box.
Looking at life from street-level,
Holes in your boots and socks.
Hello Alexander, my old friend,
Did you enjoy luncheon at the Ritz?
Just popped into Tesco express,
Got you a coffee and a few bits.
Sleeping outside’s not that bad,
Kings Cross is warm and bright,
Moving home whenever I like,
Sometimes in shadows out of sight.
Worldly possessions on my back,
Tommy left this rucksack in his will.
Two sets of clothes, one for best,
In case I get work down the mill.
Mostly people treat me with kindness,
A few shout, “Scrounger get a job”.
Friends help me out when they can,
Hot drink, Sandwich or a few bob.
Ally old mate check your diary,
Her Majesty has invited me to tea.
She sent me a text bring a friend,
The palace expects us at three.
I used to work in construction,
Helped develop the east end docks.
Canary Wharf one of my projects,
Now I construct a cardboard box.
I don’t do drugs or get drunk,
Just a nip of brandy when it’s cold.
Had a decent life sometimes tough,
Wish list of things ‘fore I get old.
Some of us may be scoundrels,
Some of us liars and cheats,
A lot of us just plain homeless,
So glad of the people we meet.
Alex you rogue, how you doing?
Haven’t seen you in a while,
Going up Tottenham Court Road,
Back later with goodies and a smile.
On the ring, there's this championship match
Both craving for applause and the title
He is on his 30's while he on his 20's
The crowd stands still and then they roar
Standing and cheering for their bet
With a swift uppercut and jab...
Punches from left to right..
His foot circling round the arena..
Defending their goals and their lives..
The underdog played like it's his last
So, as to the title - holder playing mad
Knock - out, both their aiming at
Thus, they giving all what they got
The audience hot on their own seats
So, as the boxers tight fist on the ring
Sweats and blood running unstoppable
Energy on fifteen rounds, incredible!
The underdog, old with arthritic hand
Remembering his wins and lost fights
His "chance job" on the seventh docks
His kids sent to his brother's house
Inspiring and motivating, his stand..
Unanimously, he won with a good fight
His wife and kids so happy that night
by
olive_eloi
5:28 pm
03/03/2014
In memorial of James J. Braddock, a well known American boxer
noted of his right power punches, a humble inspiration man on 1930's..
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The Nor'easter came down like the wolf on the fold,
The barometer fell and my fingers got cold
And the sheen of the clouds was like spears on the sea,
When the sunlight fades nightly on Maine's Kittery.
Susie's Bat Mitzvah was planned for the day
We planned a big spread and boy did we pay.
For Bagels and Lox with a caterer of renown
And rented the biggest dance hall in town.
But the angel of mirth spread his wings on our blast,
And breathed in our face and laughed as he passed;
And I heard the grim wind, and it gave me a chill,
For the rain was in sheets, and the traffic grew still.
And there lay the wires on every street wide.
Power was out, and cars did collide
Boats were thrown over Manhattan's docks
No way we'd get to those bagels and lox.
And the mother of Susie is loud in her wail,
And the flights are aborted, and the trains fail
And the plans of the parents, thrown off by the wind
Hath melted like snow, but Susie just grinned.
She said "I'll get my presents anyway
"Without having to stand at the Bimah and pray
"No need to recite Haftorah to the flocks
"And I always preferred Dunkin Doughnuts to Lox."
Then the East River crashed through our door
A nasty Northeaster wouldn't let Susie ignore
We ran for the hills, but Manhattan lacks those
Found a house with stairs, struck a drenched pose.
Nothing wrong with cheap Bat Mitzvah's, I hasten to explain
Its just all that money that went down the drain.
A breath soft cinnamon is early
S p r i n g
not perceived at any other time of year
when two tweeny caterpillars cling dear
to one dandelion stalk sublime —
Shy LimeLight of green opens its legs
across yellow field — no scientist can
capture such subtle sheen
daisy clean
Heart feels its mighty loom alright …
It waits tentative as pink buds peep
from cacti who were in soundless
S l e e p —
Acacia stops shedding bare brown
splints — fresh mint bleeping
Noon arrives sooner sprinkling spritely
misty loss as Winter N o r t h w a r d
farewells
goodbye to woollen socks —
lullabies fade beneath mustard mohair docks
…
Southern Spring bells with clocks
C h a n t i n g
Chiming unlock
March you wooden miniatures,
Sullen and stoic all.
Bend the band with iron hand,
Heed your master’s call.
Lambs and cattle, herds no matter,
Flocks and docks and drops of rain.
With massive moods and thundering hooves,
And castle walls of pain.
Gates withstand this hour of sand,
And moods of life sublime.
For cobbled stony roads of pride,
The cost is but your time.
Wars and whores and bedtime snores
Surround us in profusion.
Sleep sedates as love awaits
Beyond all life’s confusion.
So march you wooden miniatures
Like candles lit on cake.
Many of number waiting in slumber
To dance your endless wake.
The tides began to roll in,
around four a.m, all was silent.
as the stingrays gathered,
constantly, circulating the giant
snails, all the while the docks
shuttered and bounced behind,
the pier while morning shellers,
held on to straw hats, while grabbing
the daily news, from vendor stands,
bicycles lined estero entrance way,
the gallantly, glowing red sun, begin
to rise, the gulf of grandeur, comes clearly
into view, over looking the Caribbean Sea,
colors begin exploding, igniting painted
walk ways, swinging gates, through
brilliant chimes, creating tropical
melodies, where butterflies dances,
as reptiles wink, the pink flamingos,
dip their feathers into cool teal waters,
while sinking beaks into soft sands.
written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen