Long Onshore Poems
Long Onshore Poems. Below are the most popular long Onshore by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Onshore poems by poem length and keyword.
Time is born to unstoppable walk, unknown towards
End of summer, wandering now thru the fall season
Early autumn, the first month of tranquiller breeze
Blowing onshore winds west to the east touching all
Corn moon of the late summer there attends to shine
After every three years it rises bright in the night sky
Barley crops are smiling on the field of this month
Green to brown crops, mostly eaten in pearled form
Sapphire, the transparent precious blue stone its gem
As month’s birthstone it carries wisdom and integrity
Let a small hummingbird with shining blue come to me
Let the violet color in its plumage and tail hugs my entity
30.09.2020 Chattogram
At one time it was said
From Hull to Valparaiso,
Or any deep sea port
Any Mariner might know,
You could find a body who’d
Heard of the old Earl de Grey,
Many had even been there
On an onshore off duty day.
They’d talk of the girls
Offering friendship to all
And of the famous parrots
On their perches by the wall.
Fluent in their language
Freely cursing all and sundry
Regardless of their gender,
Colour creed or country.
It was rumoured they were sold
To a more refined type of place
But after a just few weeks
Were returned in disgrace.
Their partnership sadly ended
By a nervous burglar’s blade
One being killed to silence any
Statement it may have made.
The survivor then fell silent,
No more cursing one and all,
Apparently in mourning for
It’s partner's sad downfall.
So those cursing Parrots
Came to an uncertain end
But to a certain generation
They are a vivid local legend.
The Pub’s now just a memory,
The old docks long gone
The building still stands but
Times have moved steadily on.
New developments are planned
And although it’s still here
There’s quite a chance
It may soon now disappear.
But, I like to think maybe
Some far away tavern’s host
Is regaled by their tale
And they all drink a toast
To the famous cursing parrots
At the Old Earl de Grey
And more innocent days
Before time swept them away.
Before us, the harbor unfurls its tapestry of lights,
Serried jewels winking on numberless nights.
Onshore, they’re jostled in a million-starred galaxy,
Into the harbor they spill in a gleaming frenzy.
Neon tassels they are, shimmying on dark water,
Startled by passing ships, they break and scatter.
High above, the sky glitters with a crowded glory,
Affords the earthbound lights no lofty sanctuary.
Of finding welcome the itinerant lights despair,
In vain they have searched for a peaceful lair.
Then, out of the night, a twinkle starts to beckon
With infinite gladness, like a love-filled beacon.
Lured are the lights to where this promise lies,
Hurrying in flight, till they reach your blessed eyes.
In those limpid pools they arrive and congregate,
Join the resident sparkle, a new luster they radiate.
I know well their rapture, a joy so mighty,
For in your eyes, I too have found luminous beauty.
On an easy breezy day in a land far away, it came to pass
that a polar bear mother gave birth to a roly-poly ball of fur,
in a den dug deep into a bank of snow and earth.
No doubt, the cub wanted to go out to play in the sunlight,
but the freezing Arctic winds made it spend its days
curled up with mom, warming up next to her fur.
But before long, it was strong enough to tag along
with mom and explore the great outdoors.
And when the time came,
it was eager to scout out its frozen domain.
The glaring sunlight off the white snow hurt its eyes,
so, it had to take it nice and slow, hiding in a nook,
watching mom kill a seal and drag it back to the den.
One day snowflakes started falling from the sky,
it didn't know why, nor did it care.
However, the cold water was beckoning it to jump in,
for it instinctively knew how to swim.
It wasn't long before it paddled out to the ice flows,
its heart, beating at a steady pace.
And there it learned to hunt seals
with muscles of steel, sleek and trim.
In this land far away, polar bears are no more,
they're either in zoos to be bred,
or dead onshore.
The ice flows melted, and with no place to hunt
they disappeared without warning one morning.
(Free Verse)
8/16/2018
The milk’s gone off today, I don’t know where it’s going
It booked a cab to Stansted, then climbed aboard a Boeing.
He doesn’t have a passport, I’m sure he’ll be ejected
The milk’s gone off today, it’s not what I expected.
The temperature is soaring, this wine is turning sour
I’d better pour another glass, it may not last the hour.
Frankfurter from the barbecue tastes good inside my sandwich
I’d like to praise its tastefulness but do not speak its language.
The inertia of the markets is really not surprising
Containers zig-zag round the globe, so the mercury is rising.
Every generation wants the right to make progress
So is it any wonder that our planet’s in a mess?
This heat is creeping-up on us, look forward to a storm,
So hard to store our favourite snacks when everywhere’s so warm,
A freezer on this website is discounted - should I buy it?
Or maybe I’ll resist the urge, and simply change my diet!
When on the beach at Morecambe the onshore breeze feels fresh
But lately in the afternoon it felt like Marrakech,
You ought to watch these climate trends when booking your vacation
But don’t depend on Michael Fish when seeking information.
It’s good to greet the sunshine if you’re out of bed at dawn
It helps to scare the clouds away and ripens farmers’ corn,
You may catch its reflection when you’re polishing your car,
On-balance we could all agree, it is our favourite star.
He washed his hands.
Of her and us.
And we were sluiced into the Irish Sea.
On a rough tide.
Whilst the gentleness of the Yorkshire Dales embraced him.
Again.
Clinging to each other and the flotsam of the incoming tide we were swept back to shore, blistered, weathered, but together.
A successful navigation to land, prevailing with fortune and fortitude.
Onshore our journeys continued but in differing directions, scarred by the experience, new land to explore.
New lives.
Ever changed we reunite to recount, reminisce, a newness added on each telling.
The scarring still exists the flesh tears, the salt burns, but every now and then the flag is hauled,
the sail thrown open to the wind and we sail, the waters stiller, navigable.
Harbours now, each open to protect from choppy oceans.
A safe mooring.
Couldn't have cared less, now I couldn't care more
Losing ego is unbecoming me
Setting small sparks in human hearts to soar
Naive and lost, I washed up onshore
Sowing seeds of wisdom across the sea
Couldn't have cared less, now I couldn't care more
One wanders inner thinking to explore
As a youth, I thought I knew how to be
Setting small sparks in human hearts to soar
So sure we're each the same at the core
Simple insights challenge philosophy
Couldn't have cared less, now I couldn't care more
Clarity of thought will always endure
Outside my bubble, I can clearly see
Setting small sparks in human hearts to soar
Facing the truth becomes the toughest chore
Turning to awareness shall set me free
Couldn't have cared less, now I couldn't care more
Setting small sparks in human hearts to soar
11/14/2020
My father gone these forty years,
my mother gone twenty, I remember...
the acrid smell of tobacco on my mother’s rough fingers,
as she sat, silently, in a predawn Texas coastal town,
my head in her lap, the short-wave radio crackling with static.
She strained to hear the chatter of shrimpers in the Gulf of Mexico,
yelling out to each other in Cajun French, Mexican Spanish, accented English.
She stroked my nine-year-old hair,
her middle-aged body aching, hungry, worried, sleepless.
Far from her roots -- stranded -- in this strange,
dry, totally foreign place.
Her imaginings of my father’s struggles
with the sea and its weathers filled her mind.
She knew, all the while, that even
if he were safe, we would still suffer
the poverty of the displaced and desperate,
whose minor, occasional comforts were only,
onshore, the cold beers and noisy camaraderie
of the others like him, like her...like us.
White evanescent waves roll on the shore
with such felicity of frothy bliss.
Rhapsodic sounds explode as they explore;
present the waiting beach their foamy kiss.
Above, the dulcet sounds echo the call
of gulls, 'neath radiant, pale sapphire skies;
plethora of white V-shaped wings asprawl,
invokes idyllic sights that mesmerize.
As waves recede, a shell remains onshore;
perhaps a talisman brought forth for me.
What living thing, like a cocoon, it bore,
and now to me came from this deep, dark sea.
The sky and sea hold treasures each their own;
but special are the gifts from depths unknown.
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
through cerulean streams
and creamsicle colored beams—
are wings reflective
of the turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East—
becoming lost
in its milky breadth
its lilting light
its dimming depths
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers—crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
Canadian bluster-gusts
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
offshore
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl
whirling
in slate pearlescent space
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels…
mobs of darkening fog
growing fatter
on summer’s fainty surrender—
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm…
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change—
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with an emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter