Long Offshore Poems
Long Offshore Poems. Below are the most popular long Offshore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Offshore poems by poem length and keyword.
The Curse of the Dead Sea
Dark ghosts traveling through the chilled air mist
where rare rough rivers, eddied and revolved, in
twists around into a violent, furious funnel offshore,
as this turbulent salt sea of iniquity opens up its storied,
salted bowels with its turgid moving fluids drowning
into a space of predestined bedded death—for all who
unknowingly venture into the embrace of the Dead Sea.
For knoweth that Poseidon, the ancient god of the sea,
may not be there in time to spare thy life that be in the
fatal grip of this salted deadly destiny, and its jeopardy,
as it’s written in the “riddle of sands” that remain blowing
as this earthly desert speaks to thee, spiced by the coldest
of raindrops carried on winds held deep within, as dark
clouds escape with their droplets running down into the
mountain “waters of life” that feed and form an evil river
that pulsates through the deep veins of existence, as drums
inside heartbeats play to a harmonious harp filled with a
mystic music dancing to visions of a salted angel who lives
deep within the Dead Sea.
Falling throughout the depths of time in the history of this
ancient sea of sure death, are grains of sand and pure white
salt which hold misted gems that speak to each and every
human footprint, leaving an imprinted, indelible image true,
behind the frame left crowned in the deep well of a forlorn,
shimmering pond that presciently knoweth that this ancient
Dead Sea, with its “salt of the sand” shall explain to you,
in kind, of the dangers that lurketh within the waters of its
salted, deadly grip, if thou chooseth unwisely to venture in
knowingly or unknowingly.
For Poseidon shall not be there in this “modern age” to
saveth thee and thy immortal soul!
Amen.
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – December 16, 2018
(Narrative)
Nice sum
ho-hum
Figures
triggers
transfer
defer
Strict loan
bemoan
Invest
divest
credit
debit
Tax break
intake
Pay in
smart pin
Pay out
for nowt
Encash
that’s flash
Mortgage
bondage
Wage freeze
on knees
Account
discount
Trader
with flair
Bonus
focus
Crossed cheque
ink fleck
Price hike
dislike
Bank app
just tap
Bankrupt
disrupt
Assets
facets
Bullish
flourish
Bearish
finish
Blue chip
shrewd tip
Savings
cravings
Broker
joker
Launder
flounder
Money
sunny
Offshore
of lore
wealthy
healthy
Lodgement
judgement
Finance
by chance
Stocks crash
mad dash
Target
market
Angel
gainful
hubs thrive
survive
My passion is the happy fervor
That covers and moves the lever
I heard an exciting, silent flaming
To warn me about this mine anxiety
And its eyes have all the flaming
On that day my soul grew arousal
and the brainwaves never zesting
and its eyes have all the flaming
The spree seemed happy exclaiming
Not but my thought yet stilled remaining
in there stepped a flammable insight
Only this and heated horrors
I crave the scorched, splintery stimulus
Poundings of my thoughts series
I threw my illumination upon the floor
Satan stool in front of the prison door
I crave the illuminated, illuminating intimacy
While I pondered, excitatory and more
what could there be more purely offshore?
Demon angel
Take thy illuminator from out my heart
those the turmoil, 'Minded the Ecuador!'
Mentor, mentor!
And the troubles never layering
and so the good angel you came gently clattering
Get thee behind me Satan bravo, bravo
11/21/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2021©
She stands on the shore
Dressed in black
Her head bowed
As the waters ebb back
For just offshore
She sees the bows of a ship
Where many have perished
On it's maiden trip
Built on the Clyde
To serve in the war
Never reaching the action
As the torpedo's tore
Off the Isle of Arran
She met her fate
The U-Boat attacked
Back through the nets she escaped
With it's cargo of munitions
In explosive boom
Her crew of new
Now in deathly tomb
For the lady in black
Who stands on the shore
Crying into the waves
With a husband no more
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-2.php
Trickle Down Economics
By Franklin Price
6/10/2017
Trickle down economics has been around for quite awhile
Makes the rich so very happy doesn't make the middle smile
Puts the masses at the beck and call of the increasing super rich
They tout they did it by themselves that life is such a *****
Their message to the middle class and the many working poor
How can I be a billionaire if I have to pay you more?
Too many regulations and controls are put on me
Think I deserve a tax cut for my new company
How can I be the top ten of the richest in the land?
If I trickle down and share my wealth from this high place that I stand
How can I fly my private jet to my latest custom yacht?
If I pay a living wage to all the workers I have got
If the minimum wage is raised again it will put a strain on me
I'll raise the price of all my goods and services you'll see
Otherwise, how can I maintain the rich man that I am
Eating fresh Beluga Caviar with my workers eating spam
If you force me, I will take my high labor cost offshore
I've done it in the past not afraid to do once more
Do not expect high tariffs on goods returned back here
I've spent money well in Washington, at times it was quite dear
That's how I've used my money that's reserved for trickle down
To influence those who make the laws who think they wear a crown
What else would you expect of me, a higher pay for you?
Much cheaper to put a lot in the pockets of a few.
The air was pure and bright. A sea-salt tingle
hovered in an easygoing offshore breeze.
In mesmerising rhythm, wavelets sloshed
and swished along the timeworn jetty wall.
The bay was sparkling in the morning light
as early gannets hungrily patrolled
their crystal-clear domain.Slight movement now
within the overnighting boats, safe moored,
serenely sheltered at the break of day.
A swan flotilla, now near fully grown
and all in a row, in silence glided by,
exploring weed and tidal offerings
under a careful matriarchal eye.
The year was moving on, the midges gone,
and still the little ferry ploughed its course
across the bay, its passengers intent
on finding peace and personal content.
The cafe at the pier, with clinking cups,
was heralding the day, with early starters,
few in number now. The summer throng
dispersed and homeward bound, to feed
on memories. For some, like me,
a fitting epitaph might be
“He lived his life in thoughts of Arran “.
Ship-wretched
Golden sand as far as can be seen
Lapped by an ocean, aquamarine
Sun blazing, high, in an azure sky
Another land hermit crab scampers on by
Palms edge the beach gifting welcome respite
from the heat of the day till the cool of the night
When the touch of an incoming breeze
Taps coconuts out of the trees
Out on the reef, lurk broken timbers
Phantom remains of his long ravaged boat
Each fitful sleep brings a new silver moon
And his silhouette yacht now afloat
But in the day those dank timbers sway
Like demonic arms seeking help
So it’s Snapper for breakfast and lobster for lunch
And supper is crab served with kelp
Each coconut lands with a thud
on his cabin of palm leaves and mud
Then drops to the cool evening sand
The coming day’s breakfast now planned
But the reef is a bountiful mark
Though the shark does his rounds after dark
So diving until the sun yawns
Brings dinner of oyster and prawns
Then someone dives over the side
Of a yacht that just anchored offshore
She gracefully swims with the tide
He isn’t alone anymore
With two passion fruits, that’s one each
He exits the shade of his tree
He halts as he heads down the beach
Dumbfounded at what he can sea
Naked she walked from the sea
Enjoying the solitude there
No swimsuit and no bikini
For no one can see that she’s bare... (Oops!)
His one overwhelming emotion
Takes over as soon as he meets her
He stares at her yacht on the ocean
And dreams of hamburgers and pizza
There is a stall down by the dock
Selling the freshest seafood stock.
Creatures in shells, caught just offshore.
Live oysters there for eating raw.
Each one sealed up and watertight.
To prise open it is a fight.
Down in one, living flesh slither.
Sudden burst of ocean flavour.
Only these ones you eat alive
If you expect to stay alive.
Oysters help keep men in the pink
As they contain a lot of zinc.
Tis healthy food without a doubt.
Best washed down with some Irish stout.
Now Casanova knew the score,
As he ate live oysters galore.
He knew how to play a good game
Eating fresh oysters without shame.
There is a stall down by the dock
Selling the freshest seafood stock.
On the banks of your life
Doubt fixing you offshore
A gripping beast never quits feeding
On dreams hungry for more
To ask yourself questions
Are they answers you know
Always precipitously trying to learn
You justify with the flow
Will you see your opening
Pushing your given chance
Do the beasts raptly glower into you
Or escape a second glance
Whenever you travel alone
How will you pull through
Who has mind to deftly prognosticate
Just what a beast will do
Seeing beyond your corner
Most importantly learning
You discover the ideas of everything
What above life may bring
He ate a caterpillar sandwich
Just to prove he could do it
He just gritted his teeth and
Chewed his way right through it
He washed it down with turpentine
Which he preferred to any wine
Ate a chunk of matured horse
As his favoured second course
His dessert was a trifle smelly
Being served in an old welly
Frog legs steeped in prunes juice
Just to keep his functions loose
If it was edible he would try it
Really liked a varied diet
His fame grew as a gourmet minger
Celebrity status as hash slinger
Every week with language obscene
He appears on your TV screens
He doesn’t care what you think
Doesn’t need respect or thanks
Just keeps checking his accounts
In his five or six offshore banks