Long Navigator Poems
Long Navigator Poems. Below are the most popular long Navigator by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Navigator poems by poem length and keyword.
THE CURRICULUM OF LOVE
In Biology, you’re my heart,
Pulsing with lessons of life right from the start.
Cells may divide, but they never stray,
For in your rhythm, I find my way.4
In Chemistry, you’re my oxygen,
Bonding with me in reactions when you begin
Without you, my equations fall apart,
You’re the catalyst that ignites my heart.8
In Mathematics, you’re my formula,
Exact and timeless, no room for error.
From algebra’s proofs to geometry’s lines,
You solve the theorem of love that shines.¹²
In English Language, you’re my expression,
The grammar of grace, the syntax of affection.
Every sentence I craft about you is clear,
You’re the meaning that my words hold dear.¹6
In Literature-In-English, you’re my poem,
An eternal sonnet, a timeless emblem.
Metaphors flourish where your presence lies,
You’re the verse that never dies.²°
In Physics, you’re my force,
Driving my motion, shaping my course.
Gravity bends when you’re near,
Space and time dissolve, everything’s clear.²4
In Philosophy, you’re my truth,
The question and answer, eternal proof.
Logic bows to your radiant flame,
For wisdom itself whispers your name.²8
In Economics, you’re my demand curve,
Shaping my choices with every swerve.
Scarcity fades when you’re in supply,
The market of love is soaring high.³²
In Computer Science, you’re my algorithm,
Sorting my chaos into a perfect rhythm.
Binary love, ones and zeroes aligned,
You’re the code that rewrites my mind.³6
In Geography, you’re my equator,
Balancing my world, my love’s navigator.
From north to south, east to west,
You’re the center that feels the best.4°
In Music, you’re my symphony,
A harmony of joy, a sweet melody.
Notes may fade, but you remain,
The eternal chorus in love’s refrain.44
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
Copyright ©?20th February 2025.
Erik Erikson
described U.S. culture
as stuck in adolescence,
and a more feminist Erika Fromm,
or Erik Erikson,
might have added
Nationalistically stuck in patriarchal adolescence.
Yet in the normal course of biological events,
and spiritual evolutions,
each life,
individual and cultural,
unfolds a rudder.
Each rudder has a Tipping Point,
acting like a pre-deductive
adolescent-curious
rudder,
manipulated by a health-intending navigator,
like the pre-ramp lip
on a wheelchair ramp,
inviting a more cooperative initial push
or final descent
in helpful on and off directions,
left and right,
up and down,
in and out,
back and forth,
Yang ecological economic maturity
with Yintegrative adolescent revolutionary politics,
nondual faces of one co-directing intention
toward recognizing limitations
and liabilities
of competitive adolescent behaviors
too patriarchal LeftBrain dominant for fully mature unfolding,
while also appreciating more cooperatively slow
and steadier
eco-flowing assertions
to politically co-enfranchise matriarchal RightBrain
integrity of improved developments
of and for Tipping Point maturation.
I Dream of doing
what no human has ever
done by himself...battling
the fiercest storms
with the intrepid will
of the boldest navigator
that's calm and sound;
and with a constant gaze
I'll watch the rising
tides never fearing
what's ahead and beyond...
what I'll discover can amaze
me more than others!
I dream of holding
hungry children
with sunken cheeks
and feed them
until they stop crying;
who would want them
to suffer any longer?
Don't their mothers
wish for their happiness?
Hugs can make them smile
and feel loved anytime,
food is given to them
to nurture their bodies
and make them strong,
then teach them a song!
I dream of holding
strangers' hands and make them
feel the warmth of mine,
I will not shun them
because of their color or look different;
we come from the same parents
we call Adam and Eve...
I despise people who pretend
to be fair and sincere while they are not!
I dream of reaching the highest mountains' peaks and view
valleys, forests, cities, and towns laying below;
who would climb with me on this incredible adventure?
I dream of looking up and meet God's face
that's reflected in the extreme beauty I praise;
nowhere silence is more profound than here.
You are the captain of your ship.
From birth to death we're on a trip.
Sunny days are times when life goes right.
But storms can make them dark as night.
Waves will rise and lightening cracks.
Those are times we're under attack.
Things in your world are now going wrong.
You feel you no longer want to go on.
Trouble and pain is all you see.
You think this only happens to me.
The boat you sail is tossed by waves.
Is there hope? You ask. Someone to save?
That's when a voice speaks to your mind.
I am your God. You'll be just fine.
My Son will board your ship with you.
He'll tell you what you need to do.
Listen to everything he'll say.
His name is Jesus. He's called "The Way!"
He'll point the direction you are to go.
All the wrong turns he will know.
His words will comfort your heart and mind.
He'll still your waters and all will be fine.
The sun will return and calm seas will too.
Call to him anytime, he will answer you.
You can speak to him anytime, any day.
Tell him you're lost and please show you the way.
So many in life's journey do not have a clue.
That he suffered and died for them and you.
As you sail along on your life long trip.
Talk to Jesus daily, he there on your ship.
Even though you don't see him, believe he is there.
Ask him to help, that is what we call prayer.
RAF navigator Ron Day and I took of from Banff, Scotland,
I was in the RAAF, an Australian, and we flew in formation:
40 Mosquitos to attack German ships in Norway land,
In a harbour, Porsgrunn, but then came an acclamation.
“Bandits three o’clock! “, and so we did not strike a ship,
But broke away left and flew ’til I spotted sand on a beach,
But as i got closer realised it was Norwegian ice, no quip,
So the landing damaged us, plane and all, but we did reach.
After unjamming my leg, i paddled up to the surface,
With relief saw Ron afloat in his life jacket, life raft burst;
We felt mentally and physically numb and did brace,
We struggled, but heard a man from a boat shout in lust.
The farmers carried and cared for us, or cared for Ron,
But they told me “Germans come,” so we left by a pony,
I sat and shivered in the cart, then took a car to Oslo bon,
Our uniforms were yellow stained by the lake, very shabby.
We were then taken to hospital, but i ended up in prison,
And on Monday the 30th of April 1945 Hitler killed himself,
And we knew informally we were free, def by the elision,
When a guard gently touched my back, himself to shelf.
That was when the war in Europe was over for me, then,
But we had to await official victory when RAF men came,
However, before that, just to be sure, we left for the glen,
‘Cos the Luftwaffe general was contradicting the game.
We got back to London and i left for Australia on Orion,
And the celebrations would’ve lost control for alcohol,
‘Cos I’d found out that my brothers were alive and on:
We birthed, the collective mind reacted, but not us all.
My life is like a sailboat,
Sailing on the sea.
Beneath blue skies and sunshine,
I sail on peacefully.
I go about my business,
A smile upon my face.
Sailing upon smooth waters,
I bask in God's sweet grace.
But often times the sky grows dark,
And the winds begin to blow.
The rain comes down in buckets,
This boat rocks to and fro.
And as my life is tossed about,
Like a sailboat on the sea,
I must decide whom I will trust,
Jesus Christ or me.
By myself I am overwhelmed,
When faced with stormy days.
I'm cowardly and weak,
Inclined to hide away.
But Jesus is the Master
Of the mighty winds and waves,
And if I cry to Him for help,
He will come and save.
Jesus is my lighthouse.
He's my beacon in life's storms.
If I keep my eyes on Him,
My turmoil He'll transform.
I much prefer to sail still waters,
But tempests are a part of life.
I'm glad Jesus is my Navigator,
To steer me through the strife.
1/1/12
Entered in PD's 100 in a row #3 contest
I am the brave sailor
My crew mates, friends,
Clothed in sorrow
Like lost children
Following the nearest stranger home
I lead them with my heart
As we sail through the masses
Of our duly colored peers
But the captain of a ship
Isn’t the best navigator
I feel the pull of the crowd
As I lose myself to the bleak
And leave my crew to drown
In the waters of self pity and despair
I leave them to the gray
A monster lurks, waiting for it’s prey
To snap the souls of the peaceful
To steal the fire from the fierce
To squander and squeeze the hope out of the dreamers
To make us all obey, all conform
I was their captain
The peaceful, the fierce, the dreamers
They were my crew
Now they blend into the others
Now they all obey, all conform
I found a new one
A peaceful person
A fierce person
A dreamer
But most importantly
I found a navigator
I am the captain
Who saves lost souls from drowning
In the waters of the dark and dull
They are my navigator
Who steers us to the next lost child
I am the brave sailor
My crew mates, friends
Bulging with light
Like the moon
Through the saltwater of the night
Upon the golden sea of sand, where heat waves dance in grace,
A realm, stark and spellbinding, extends in a vast embrace.
Infinite grains tell tales, of time, wind, and transient drifts,
Where echoes of ancient caravans, through the scorching mirages, lift.
The sun kisses the horizon, in a slow, burning romance,
Casting long shadows that quietly, through the sandy ocean, prance.
Cacti stand as stoic sentinels, bearing blossoms, bold and free,
Offering sweet nectar sips, to wanderers like the bee.
The wind whispers secrets, to the silent, standing dunes,
Sculpting them into shapes and forms, under the witnessing moons.
Beneath the veil of darkness, cold, and a star-studded sheet,
Creatures of the nocturnal realm, in silent whispers, meet.
The camel, noble navigator, treks through the endless seas,
Guided by distant, shimmering stars, and a soft, caressing breeze.
Oases, like jeweled mirages, lie hidden in the golden folds,
Harboring life and fleeting dreams, as the desert tale unfolds.
In every grain, a story sleeps, of travels, dreams, and tears,
Through centuries of timeless drift, under the celestial spheres.
May we perceive the beauty, within the desert's stern face,
And learn the art of endurance, in its dry, embracing grace.
In the dances of the desert, where the sun and sand entwine,
There lies a rugged symphony, a melody, divine.
Through the trials and tranquility, amidst the boundless sands,
Resides a spirit, ever enduring, in the quiet, arid lands.
The best advice I ever received about growing old…I offer now to you:
It came from an old married couple…She had just turned 80…he was 82
You are going to love this couple… before I met them I was told
and that was true as their energy and their love was a wonder to behold.
They would drive across the country to see their children and grandchildren for they could think of nothing greater…
The young 80 year old did all the driving while the old man was the navigator.
She pictured herself a race car driver…for her…speed was all the rage…
“When I get on the highway,” she’d say, “I like to drive my age.”
She was proud of her driving accomplishments…how she was always early…never late…and she bragged how’d she’d gotten a speeding ticket in almost every state.
One day they stopped long enough for me to ask, “Hey, you two…what’s your secret…won’t you help me see…the mystery to all your energy…the key to your vitality?”
They smiled at one another and immediately I was caught by the way they gave me this advice by finishing each other’s thought.
“Life is precious.” He said. “We plan to enjoy it or as long as we can.”
We figure at our age.” She continued. “If we stop we might not get started again.”
Eventually, as Emily Dickinson wrote, (just one of her many gems)
‘Because they would not stop for death…it kindly stopped for them.’
But not until they blessed me with the advice I follow every time my two feet meet the road….
given to me by an older couple
long ago…
who in their many years together…
always loved and never slowed.
12/6/22
Let it snow
Worldwide not just in Mexico
No matter if it's one hundred or ten below
Always set to go
Ready to shred a foe
From head to toe
She thought she did but she would never know
Because the thought didn't ever rose
Still a mystery like the Wendigo
It's no fault in the genetic code
Losing my own mind
No it's not going fine
Always playing both sides
Yet behind closed doors
It's another story for those that want to know more
Remaining so poor
Very little if anything to show for
At that rate will not survive a snowstorm
Too often caught in crossfire
Still a lot of liars
All this B.S. makes me dog tired
From it all I lost desire
Still a lot of disrespect
On purpose I talk less
Staying on a trek
It doesn't matter if I overdrank and never got rest
Zero time for stopping even when I feel not the best
They think it's devilish or god sent
Always turning it into a contest
Or drawn out process
Still a ringing in my inner ear
It all isn't crystal clear
At times I had to step in and interfere
The navigator of the wheel I grip and steer
A sudden shift of gears
So that it became different here
I won't stand for people that cause others to live in fear
Already did what very few could
Heart, soul and spirit too good
From afar all these fools stood
Just like I knew you would