Long Rowing Poems
Long Rowing Poems. Below are the most popular long Rowing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rowing poems by poem length and keyword.
It is to know without opening the eyes,
it is to feel without the sense of touch,
it is to understand tranquility of the soul,
and absorb the meaning of eternal presence!
a disturbed mind flutters in the wind of change,
the heart races past the galloping time,
the soul is forgotten in pursuit of pleasure,
mind flips from lost past to unseen future,
the truth is still. Very still. unaffected by time.
It is the anchor of eternity, beyond all known,
for movement is a delusion of lost minds,
in that truth is the vision of a gentle glow,
the glow of absolute knowledge,
that is felt and experienced by the mind,
with eyes closed in deep meditation.
heart is in rhythm with vibrations of creation,
it beats to show it is a function of the body,
it is gentle to symbolise the conquest of life,
Life that had been turbulent with a rowing eye,
but now with eyes closed the mind watches,
and gentleness of heart is breath of existence,
existence of the absolute reality, within which,
is the golden glow of eternal truth.
This prison I know so well
For I've been here before
When all I can do so well
Is stay up all the way till four
When the gate would just no longer open
After several times of opening and closing
That it would just be hard to keep them open
Any longer without the walls shaking
This stare I know so well
It says go on some more
It puts you in some sort of spell
And you find yourself saying one more
When all you can do is rock back and forth
Tapping depths of the waters so that they splash
While eyes are closed, hands clasped to the sheets with wrath
For once the waters reach high level out they'll wash
This is a pause I know so well
It comes before the tap out
When you know you've done so well
That all you need now is final bow out
When you all sweaty and out of breath
For you've been rowing this boat
And you've not had time to catch your breath
Cause the tides were strong you had to keep rowing the boat
The PO£T
Without faith, we float on streams of the ocean,
This unbelief is like the turning waves of the sea,
And doubts might be bathed in that stream,
of insecurity and dreams, merging with life’s destiny.
Driven by every wind and tossed by the rapid gale,
priorities lose meaning to cross the tempest sea.
In the rowing of hope, we battled with stormy hale,
And takes the bravest being to gain solid victory
That eternal force within never shrinks or waver,
From baptism in the sea, it refreshes the lake of purity.
With the greatest triumph in all kinds of weather
Belief is the strength of a tower, standing invincibly.
With the faith for a fire and the light for a flame,
The truth will never fade nor be drown by the rain.
Once a year, it's the season, I fear
That lures us three, to the loch
Were we rent a boat, in earnest we hope
To catch all the fish, that they stock
McGee, he was rowing, I told him, "Start Slowing"
For here, looks like a good spot
The anchor cast in, by our big strong friend, Finn
I'm just glad he remembered the knot
It didn't take long, we were hit by a throng
Seemed like, every dam fish in the lake
We all wore a grin, while we pulled them all in
'Cause we didn't have time to use bait
When the Day was done, so was our fun
As our boat was filled to the brim
I fumbled about, and pull up some stout
As the Sun was now getting dim
As we sat their all drinking, Finn started thinking
I wish we could find our way here
Or mark this grand hole, so we would all know
The place we should fish, come next year
That's when McGee, said "I know the key"
Then produced a piece of white chalk
"I'll mark on the bow, the place we are now
So next year we'll know we ought !
Finn then gave in, as he said with a grin
'It's your Genius, McGee that I fear
But how do you know, as rentals will go
We'll be getting the same boat next year"
Life is beautiful!
Let us take the opportunity to live it well and be happy till it lasts.
- Dr. Geeta (My Inspirational Maa)
a message to me on 12/3/2020 at 11: 08: 00 PM (GMT -6: 00)
O dear Maa
Yes, life is beautiful as you said
And I’m smiling thru its stunning touching
The earth is the mother of all beauties
Nature comes to nourish motherly care
Yes,
we have to live happy-positive till it lasts
By the elated eyes of your inspiring words
I feel better mentally in this lonesome life
My father- Mehbub and mother- Mehbuba
The greatest mercy of God for me; But
To seek my roots of soul I live alone as-
Modern City Monk!
No; The covid-19 still couldn’t attack me
But ambushed my immature job; shattered
I’m on the path of independent surviving!
Oh! No way to leave the oar of life’s boat
All the stars twinkling, the bright moon tweeting,
Still, harsh not the dazzling slice of the sunlight is,
Not the bitter cold in the wings wind of wintry fogs is
Yes, still I’m rowing my boat thru positive and peace
Here, in my country city thru the lamp of meditation crest
I feel the spiritual fascinated dance which you did best
Inspired soul smells the fragrance of Narayaneeyam wisdom
O’ I’m elated, raptured, in me I find the touch of Mohiniattam
Now it’s you and the insightful words, from the Mumbai city, awake me,
leads me to the lamp of Cheragi Pahar where Pir Badar Awlia meditated
I can’t be more agitated with the broken heart to find my entity
It’s for you, my “Inspirational Maa” I declared here, to you I’m dedicated
-05.12.2020 Chattogram
***
Dedicated to Dr. Geeta Radhakrishna Menon,(Mumbai India; Female; 70) a revered member of poemhunter.com
for her details need to visit www.mohiniattam.com>geeta
I’m inspired to write this from the below quote-
“I am sure, by early next year, all will be well.
Meanwhile, keep your will power, strength, and hope
Please do not feel offended, my writing like this.
It is a motherly concern from a kindred spirit.”
- Dr. Geeta Radhakrishna Menon 12/3/2020 11:08:00 AM (GMT -6:00)
You take for granted that people understand your rhythm.
You take for granted that everyone knows how to sing.
You have been rowing the little boat in the great big ocean.
Spilling water into my face and flooding the place, the ship is leaking, and you have to find the holes and seal them up before the queen Elizabeth sinks.
I don’t know how to read musical note and I cannot drive a gigantic boat, but I can use my common sense and move the boat out of the stagnant water, it has been docked there for many years waiting of an adventurer to take it out to experience the vastness of the sea and see the wishing stone that lies beneath the ocean. You are far away from home but keep rowing, you will find your way home.
This thing has been going on for too long and the people don’t understand your jumbled up song, what do you want them to do? I still do not have the slightest clue.
I do not know what you want to achieve, and what you have up your sleeve, every five minutes the rhythm change, and this action is driving the people insane. They have to drop what they are doing and march though the iron gate and before they reach the middle of the street, they are walking into another beat, and a new rhythm sets in.
Nobody tells me what is going on; I have to rely on my external sensation and intuition. I don’t read symbolism or body language, I don’t work out at the gym, and I don’t understand your colors scheme.
We just want to have a sense of normality, peace, love and stability, but every time I steer the boat this way, someone steer in it the opposite way. Something has to be done to fix your confusing song.
You must separate the ocean sunfish from the beluga stuvgon and give everyone a written message and tell them what to do, you must change your current communication method and gather the multitude in front of the hill and give everyone a circle a heart and a triangle and tell them the truth just as it is.
I will have grilled snapper and trout for my Thursday evening supper; I need a seafood doctor because the people still don't know what the order is.
Fire-blown mounds of ash do swirl
About a charred pathetic doll
With one surviving dead man’s eye
Whose eyelid flickers back no more
Torn up like a tethered fox
Mail-shirt bloody, helmet gone
Sinking in the ooze of death
Upon the hungry battle-mire
A crash of sliding masonry
As a church wall mourns
The king’s hall burns forlorn
Like the world tree
Laying low at land anchor
A survivor peers across the muddy field
Naked trees like sticks
He retreats into a ditch
As, drifting from the smoke,
The ghosts of a viking host march forth
Wolf-creations, struggle-weary
Bloodied axes hanging
The spy lies back
Earworn by gnarled yarling
Considers the greed of man
Where no church or school
Might ever stand again
And, with muddy water in his ears,
He tries to remember better years
Rowing across a goose-fed mere
With a curvesome lady companion
How they found a golden bed
Hidden in the lofty reeds
Where, with finches twittering, they made love
With full warm tenderness
And the breeze rippled across the water
The thud of heavy boots
A song not overmood
Wakes the warrior from his dream
As, with black-toothed grin and priest's gold chain,
A bearded carl raises his sword
And, with a curdling roar,
Thrusts it into the lover’s heart.
AFTER THE PARTY
We had a wild beach party,
Far into the night.
The beer was flowing freely,
Then, as it was getting light,
I found an old wine bottle,
Half buried in the sand.
And in it was a message,
Penned in a shaking hand,
“I’m marooned on a tropical island
At the following address.
Please someone come and rescue me.
From a lady in distress.”
Being rather worse for wear,
My brain in a bit of a mess,
I went and hired a rowing boat
And set off for the address.
It took me all of three weeks
To reach my destination.
(It’s hard without a sat-nav,
To pin-point the location.)
And there she stood, wearing fig-leaves
And nothing else at all.
I rescued her and rowed back home.
Now I can’t wait for the fall.
Deep in the harbor it's rowing our boat,
does it have the map to where we float?
Far in the woodland it's singing our song,
why didn't it follow us, to come along?
Up by the farm it's buzzing the cornfields,
hope it knows not to blow away the yields.
In open land, it's spinning the windmills,
people on the hill are happy with its skills.
What just caused the sun to blush,
and why did he wave goodbye in a rush?
Is it about the kiss, that the wind blew apart,
instead of landing directly in your heart?
Or about butterflies humming with pollen,
playing cupid to pollinate buds swollen?
Why did the twilight fade so soon,
is it time already to welcome the moon?
Did wind shrill about our romantic dance?
I saw the moon winking in a glance.
Is there a message hidden in their wings?
I hope to find out with a beautiful ring.
August 22, 2017
Placed 4th:Blowing in the Wind contest by Nicola Byrne
HM: Your choice (9) contest by Brian Strand
Double yellow lines
I sit inside a massive fog of nothingness
plays on my imaginary piano using one finger
a ditty, sun outside, sun inside, sun only sun
I feel massively and supremely untalented
Now that the amalgamation of writers, poets
dancers, trampoline ladies, and painters that
lived inside of me, has turned into a block
immovable zero
I look at a black dot ringed by a grey cloud
If I stare at this long enough, the cloud might
disappear, only it is not, it turns into a dervish
The amalgamation has fractured, and I sit on
a rowing boat on a green sea, watching gulls
white as angels fly upward into a hole in
a void, at last, there is silence, and I'm at ease
With my vastly incompetent self