Long Mariner Poems
Long Mariner Poems. Below are the most popular long Mariner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mariner poems by poem length and keyword.
“The inner beacon flashes in the tempestuous ocean as
the escort in the divine course to the final destination” – By Poet
An ancient mariner in the ocean called life,
I am sailing solemnly seemingly for ages
in the limitless luminosity of the sunshine,
and in the drifting course where trying tempest rages.
On the sapphire swells of the swaying waves,
rising to the sky and falling to the trough low,
my senile boat pitches, and I struggle hard
to keep on sailing, the voyage is veritably slow.
The film of the moonless night falls silently
on the tossing surface of the ebony ocean.
As the skyline subsides with hope in the dark horizon,
what lies in obtrusive obscurity I’ve no notion.
I’ve promised the ocean I’ll reach the shore yonder,
I need to sail to the end of my time and far.
Forlorn in the unknown ocean losing the bearing,
I search for the omnipresent pole star.
I discover in the end the guiding beacon
of the divine light hidden within me.
Tracing the destined course to the final destination,
its flash I’ve been relentlessly striving so long to see.
The wind on the sagging sail is sluggish,
with its driving draft drained, it can no longer blow.
Before the boat becomes motionless,
to the land of promise I must go.
Waiting for me at the fated fringe of my time,
is the eternal realm of the heavenly shore.
I don’t know why even now
in the tormenting ocean I am for.
_________________
March 25, 2023
Word chosen : Ocean
Contest : Word Challenge - "O" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
At the edge of the shrinking time
in the gleam of pale twilight hour,
down the misty memory lane
I see me walk my children
on the changing contours of childhood,
hands held with paternal care,
with warmth of everlasting love
as they grow wings, fly away later.
An ancient mariner, self-disposed,
I navigate across many a rough sea,
with propitious winds of love and empathy,
on the frayed sail, I strive to raise,
you all take me to the shore called home.
In the obscure depth of introvert psyche,
the shrouded sense of gratitude subsists,
instinctively silent, undemonstrated.
Engulfed by seamless emptiness of solitude
I open my window on the flushing meadow,
the sunburst dawn sparkles on pearls of dew.
My blank mind morphs into a Monet canvas,
on strokes of bruised brush paints of joy flow,
forlorn life configures in spectrum of expression,
as the sensuous stimulus of the pristine nature
aspirates the dormant artist in me, unexposed.
Written : March 2, 2020
May 27, 2020
Contest : Brian's Choice X
Sponsor : Brian Strand
A kraken with red wings
Arrived in town, claiming a talent to sing
Lions roared with delight
Wanting to see, such an entertaining frozen water sight
Tigers seemed all right
Knowing their King was in the spotlight
Showing gridiron might
“You may need a rod and reel
That is how a mariner would deal
With this monstrous catch
In the oceans the fisherman needs to fetch”
Watching the seahawks
Stalk
The fishes
With wishes
Accompanied by tartar sauce dishes
Lions got into their car
Left the motor city bar
Engine pistons spewing flames
Supersonic attitude instigating power playing games
Deep into the night air
A Friday night audience relaxed enjoying the affair
Preparing for a scare
That could turn Jay Blue
Challenging the Canadians ‘are you through?”
No matter which two
Find the winning score
Belting one out having the American championship floor
The azure sea displays in seamless expanse
the perfect poise of unique aquatic serenity,
sparkles with the patina of the cerulean sky.
From the platinum fringe of drifting clouds
the silver sunrays entice the ancient mariner
to embark upon a new voyage of penance,
for he has left the seventh sea yet unsailed.
He leaves in quandary on the call of the sea,
the essence of his forlorn life on the shore,
and sets sail once again on the quaint ship,
from an antique quay of his safe anchorage.
The southern wind blows with balmy perfume,
placid soul vibrates with the quiver of the sail,
silently promising to take him to his new home.
February 14, 2021
Contest : Mind Your P's And Q's
Sponsor : Michelle Faulkner
I had my first glimpse of her from the sandy beach,
her silhouette painted on the sky's canvas of peach
The regal double-mast brigantine, sailing out to sea
Upon waves she rode, full glory not yet at apogee
But whence the wind, her sails would be unfurled,
she'd glide quickly over waters, crested and curled
Fully hoisted and billowing in flowing trade winds,
chased by dolphins, breaking surface with dorsal fins
I longed to be a mariner aboard her quarterdeck
visiting foreign ports along the journey I would trek
Hearing tall tales the sailors were bound to embellish
Her crew was setting sail on a voyage I would relish
I yearned to stand at the helm; salt spray on my face
Memories of such an adventure I'd cherish and embrace,
on a vessel sailing between the sea and the stars
But I sit in the shallows, enviously watching from afar
(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)
I shore up a vignette to free
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands
and ruddy complexion re
enforced non verbal body language
voluminous tomes smoothed
nick holed money
to countless years (spilling into decades)
exposed to salty spittle nee
where watery terrain spumed
raw elements piscine
art finest artisanal blended, crafted, nein
mean feet resources dredged reluctantly
relinguished by mother nature mean
craftily pared within each trough and crest
found thee old man with privateer mein
whose skin fiercely weatherbeaten
leathery and lean,
epidermis tanned tough
as rawhide, reptilian, prithee
chafed skin to me
not surprising, since
this mariner born, bred and near lee
schooled within briny deep ever since knee
high (or so he claimed truth
to swirling rumor), jovialy
pleased that his purportedly
learnin' myth writ tik ne'r included
NEVER settn' foot in formal classroom,
his knowledge icy
anecdotes aced, surpassed,
and trounced that of what he
referred to as grenadier landlubbers
green behind the ears – glee
fully jabbing with his
unsheathed scabbard play flea
actually downplaying any exploits,
that didst educate him, 'ee
got taut learn'n survival skills asper
pre ponder hunt via eddy fied tests frequently dee
siding a life or death outcome,
yet our Dickensian
mutually bonding friendship
via shared exploits while
he dressed not in tatters,
but self made clothes from cree
chores comfortable furs, and though
a striking appearance cut, ne'r
did this ole codger (fit as a fiddle
with tall slender build),
said middle aged man
appeared quite becoming.
An aura, charisma, dogma
amazingly graced stalwart, gestalt,
deportment aie
found added an air of charming debonair,
esteeming flair, genteel heir
which tasked guessing years old,
aye presumed him to exit the uterine lair
at least a few score tours round oblate sphere
as aspect of youthfulness played across his eyes
one colored green like a spring day in the country,
the other jetblue sans burnin'
four pearl jam oyster cult year.
Fearless horse is faith
locked in dark will languish
like airless flame or seed
by rain and light forgotten
In verdant pastures gallops
directed by the rider
conquering world by might
or selfless sacrifice
Thin as air as mighty
healer secret salve
compass to the mariner
stormy tempest calming
Faith is love in action
fire burning doubts
loaves multiplying
seven feeding thousands
If Love love attracts
Thy enemies Father scatter
with Christ and Holy Spirit
on earth Thy kingdom come
of Paradise
First Place Winner: Brian Strand- All Yours-7/19/20
The surging sea shakes upward high
foam-crested liquid undulation trains,
glide along the tide-tossed wave trail,
breaking in sleek beads of fluid pearl.
On the golden beach you’re a rare flier,
the silken scarf flung on the swirling surf
flutters on the motif wings of butterfly,
as pearly pellets imprint on it polka dots.
Scavenging mariner winds in rash rush,
bring from horizon the dusk sky to you,
blow away your apparel’s cute silver dots
to the astral space to seed nascent stars.
On my dream draped awed eyes of wonder
pretty polka dots draw the defining design.
I see you there configured in mystic light,
a surreal angel sparkling in stardust shade.
January 13, 2019
Contest : Polka Dots
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh
When in tempest on the high sea the pole star disappears,
the crestfallen ancient mariner in me loses the bearing,
but the sunbeam from the rising horizon shapes a new dawn,
the course for me to the far green shore I find getting defined.
The futile race I run on the rough track called life, and lose,
I don’t forget a long marathon lies ahead I have yet to run.
After gruelling effort my will will take me to the winning post,
and I'll find success waiting there to offer me my due prize.
When I’m lost in the labyrinth of living, and try to escape,
but find all the elusive exit doors getting closed one by one,
I don’t lose hope for at the end of the dark tunnel finite
a door will open, and I will be flooded with the light of joy.
When the sunny hours of the day fades out fast for me,
the sky falls with the dark night of misfortune and sorrow,
I don’t forget the sun must set to keep promise to rise again.
So, I'll wait for the sunburst morning to survive another day.
October 15, 2020
Briqn Strand's Contest : A Brian Strand You Choose
To be a mariner.
We set sail for the Indies, our cargo stowed below,
As we leave the port of Liverpool and the woman folk we know.
Our journey will take sometime, and the weather seldom kind,
A fleeting glance of the harbor quay, and the love I left behind.
The mast they stand so resolute, the sails billow in the breeze,
With the thoughts of my first command, gives a slight unease.
Gone now the days of cabin boy, and whether I could cope,
As I climbed along the rigging, my feet supported by a rope,
Several months have now gone by, as we begin to round the cape.
I prey for safe passage, on the course we have to take,
The meeting of the oceans whips up some heavy squalls,
As the ship begins to roll, then hits a peak then falls.
Many a lost sailor lies at the bottom deep,
As I firmly hold on to the wheel, my crew and ship to keep.
Times like these I wonder, why I ever chose this life,
As my thoughts go back to Liverpool, and the company of my wife.
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