Long Sailors Poems
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[Inspired - with much gratitude - by Jan’s poem
There’s No Knocking On Heaven’s Loo Door
and Caren and Tom’s comments on it]
***
The toilets in heaven are cold on your ass
The angels believe that they’re all made of brass
Turns out the reason the lavvies are cold
Is that all those loos are eighteen carat gold
Heavenly shoppers had been sent to Earth
And told to buy goods of exceptional worth
The best baths and basins and showers and so on
But do not return without something to go on
One of those shoppers was sure in fine fettle
Sought out some toilet pans in precious metal
He came up one short of his gold toilet goal
He needed another so that one he stole
The owner told me that that richest of loos
Was nicked by a bloke with a beard and no shoes
One million pounds for my loo that was yeller
I said Jesus Christ! He said yeah that's the fella
So that’s how there’s toilets of gold up in heaven
They said there were two but there’s actually seven
But heavenly humans are not a bright species
And built up an accumulation of feaces
They looked at the task from a different angle
And now drop it in the Bermuda Triangle
Sailors and pilots are frequently struck
And turn up in heaven all covered in muck
Although they’re in heaven they never seem happy
As they use the bathroom because they’re so crappy
It might be a rumour but what I’ve been told
Is they often cry out…
THESE TOILETS ARE COLD!
Written: February 1st, 2025 For contest by Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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Tethered to a wick, flickering in orbit,
carnelian and velvet flute notes swirl.
Amber sparks rise and swarm.
Gold and glories cavort,
while a sable-zaffre shroud is weaving graffiti,
The candle's lambent light casts the shadows.
Opals float akin to petals in a cesspool,
triggering thoughts of scarlet shift,
as coppery sensations escape their chains.
Shelves push against a bound bosom.
Creativity exhales smoke and throws.
while maples' sway ruins bibliophilic dreams.
Rhapsody strikes with a sigh of melodic delight.
shining coldly, like winter's moonlight.
whirling shadows and crimson angels,
as eventide-colored darts whistle on ledges.
Candelabras wear cardigans as gaunt sailors.
And garrulous flames tell tales of gossamer nights.
Vivid, sprawling thoughts and tangled ideas emerge,
from a nexus of opia and kuebiko's kenopsia; exulansis,
This blazing pyre is shadowed by slipshod stupidity.
Seraphic moments—a sylph-like eudaemonia whisper of
Virtuous knowledge whispers umpteen realities.
Onism turns a mere blip in liberosis dreams,
Blazing a trail of endless adventures!
Altschmerz soothes sonder in occhiolism reveries.
Epiphany shines pure, like the aurora elixir.
Monachopsis leaves views, and kenopsia fades—a balm,
Ethereal panacea from unseen yet deeply felt nodes.
Vivid yet deep colors echo the pain of the moment.
It enables us to view life through a cosmic lens.
Maples sway melodically under the moon’s glow,—
their frosty sheen bestows grace
light plays across the frozen ground,
creating fleeting beauty.
It had something to do with American hostages in Iran was all I knew.
Some political complication that required a showing of the flag.
But Iran had been our ally? I’d seen their sailors train at our base,
And their uniforms looked even nicer than ours.
Now they were the enemy? OK. I don’t ask questions.
It hadn’t been my habit to think above my pay grade,
Or grasp beyond the sphere of parochial concerns.
I was there to serve my country. “Ask not…” and all that nonsense.
Nor had I questioned the tenure of Ferdinand Marcos,
With his beautiful island nation under martial law,
His wife holding all their shoes hostage.
Like the Shah, I’d been told he was one of the good guys.
It was a cold war.
I hadn’t yet questioned a lot of things.
I was there to serve my country,
Not a common motivation in the post-Vietnam disco era,
When civilians didn’t thank you for your service,
But rather branded you a loser
For giving up your freedom in order to take orders from others.
But that’s why it’s called the service, duh!
Thank you, America. Thank you all to hell.
Well, during our time on Gonzo Station,
Records were set for time underway.
Kelly’s wife divorced him.
Thompson’s had a kid that wasn’t his.
Jimmy Liquor lived up to his name
And was ordered into drydock, just like so many others.
Gypsy Joe Pilotti died of an overdose.
Airman Dillon was sentenced to life for dealing.
Operation Eagle Claw ended up
With Desert One a total cluster f*ck.
I had the feeling things weren’t on the level.
I felt I’d earned the right to ask questions and seek answers.
So, my Iliad was ended, and my Odyssey began.
My wife Marrianne insisted
We’d go to the lighthouse.
We navigated the deadly rocks
As the lighthouse flashed the danger around
Emitting intense beams of light every fifteen seconds.
The full moon shone bright and golden
Its rays flickered o'er the calm sea,
Silvery waves danced to and from the shore
Towards the beaming lighthouse,
Where dolphins danced in mirth yet all was calm.
From afar we heard
The melodious soft music from a cruise liner.
Everywhere we felt great serenity
That we fell asleep, floating peacefully on the calm waves.
We could have had trouble from some volcanic rock,
But from the lighthouse,
A Glastron boat sped towards our craft
And sailors towed us back to safety.
We thanked them profusely and offered a tot of rum.
Placed 4
To be on water is to be of water I'm told
The sea a deep blue and unsettling cold
Offshore waves roar in and relentlessly roll
Cleansing rounds that forcefully come and go
In many ways water is what makes me whole
Sailors proclaim water eases mental pain
Replaces rage and grief and peacefulness remains
Water's spirituality is a blessing to maintain
It never fails to deliver me from a life mundane
Rhythmic ocean swells crash wildly to the shore
Powerful breathing reconnects my inner core
Time spent on the water passes time of before
I savor opportunities to be with water's universe
With great respect for the sea and all this incurs
Time by the sea effects the body, mind and soul
Water's medicinal effects are wondrous to behold
All negativity evaporates and serenity sustains
It always leaves me thirsty, coming back for more
Men of sea have useful knowledge to disperse
If all these waters abandon me, life would be painful
March 24, 2018
Gregory Barden's MINUANETTA Contest using rhyme scheme of AAAAA, BBBB, CCC, DD, E, ABCDE, at least 20 lines.Theme is "CHREMAMORPHISM"
Third Place
Standdown Day
USS Coral Sea—Spring 1979
standdown day
no flights
alone I stand upon flight deck
three football fields long
thousands of tons of solid steel
an insignificant gray speck
upon the bounding main
below decks five thousand sailors
and marines on a mission
some scramble, others grind on
some sleep
fourteen-hour days
seven days straight
now standdown day
dusk
gulf water mirror still
a vivid rainbow spans in
a high, full, majestic arc
horizon to horizon
night
below decks I pass berthing
areas crowded with
bed racks stacked three high
eerily quiet for a crammed
metal city
I must work through the
Night and into the morning
Looking forward always to
The next port
by Robert Gorelick
November 11, 2025
The hustle and the bustle of the port is all around
The shouting of the merchants quoting prices by the pound
The throwing of supplies over gunwales is all but done
The time has come for us to leave with our sanity to prevail
Wind has turned and the tide is ebbing it is all that we will need
The boatswain shouts in his deep gruff voice for all aboard to hear
All ashore that’s going ashore or sail the seas with me
Not log now shipmates and we will see the horizon over the sea.
Let go forward let go aft and let the springs go to
Atop the mainmast unfurl the royal and to the starboard dress
Let the wind fill that royal and from the pier we will move Then slowly and majestically we slip into the middle of the port.
Wait for it men the orders come wait for it on my call
With bated breathe we all stand fast at stations pre prepared Then came the order loud and clear from the masters post behind Hard to port now quickly lad and let the mainmast course sail fly
Then our barque to port did turn enough to catch the breeze
Harden up the sheets now men and make that course sail tight
Now pull the halyard on the mizzenmast lets get our stern around Then slowly she obeyed the wind and through the pier heads she sailed
Well done shipmates came the shout we’ve just the bar to cross
Let’s get all the sails up to get the speed you know that we will need
With every man turned the work was was quickly done just ready for the crossing
With wind and tide pushing up on the shallow bar the sea was quite a mess
Fore quite a time it seemed to us that we were going nowhere
the waves were high and most confuse but our ship out shone them all
And passing the bar we did cheer and our time at sea has only just begun
Here we go the skipper said in to your watches fall.
And truly now our voyage has begun with the sailing of our ship Long days under sunny skies are all that we will know
The sound of an albatross occasionally heard above the sea and spray
The horizon is all ours to see my friend and ours to chase all day.
SYMBOLS OF SUNDAY
The Ille de Grande Jatte sans noise
filled with poise,a posie-in-paint.This
divisionist dog-day,a second of time
frozen in mime;a slow-motion frame
of a social game.The Seine sleeping
sailors boating,youngsters rowing
a lady fishing.trumpeter trilling,dogs
sniffing midst sunshades swishing.
A promenade peopled,gentility
strolling,watching,then,standing
still,and,taking their fill.A leisured
moment from toil,passitivity
possessed dressed yellow,orange
with green and complementary blue
A POINT TO MAKE
Points, to make a point
expressions by impressions,
lots and lots of dots a
paradigm in paint, impressionist
it ‘aint.Unique yes, inanimate
I guess, poetic proportionate
pictorial pointillistic perhaps,
our eye fills in the gaps.
Listen to me read these two Seurat ekphrasis on youtube under the name ichthychiro
read me latest ekphrasis ebook on amazon kindle
Songs of the Ocean
Sing a song of the Ocean
Marine creatures in motion
The oceans turbulent waves
And those sailors truly brave.
Sing songs of the Ocean bed
Gems found in a treasure chest
Ol’ King Neptune’s three pronged fork
And the lovely quaint seahorse.
Sing of dolphins ultrasound
How they play with folk around
Sing songs of aquatic whales
Of their wishy-washy tails.
Sing of wobbly jellyfish
Ocean creatures tasty dish
Of exotic ocean plants
Swaying in a tidal dance.
*+*+*
28th March 2023
Children Sing to Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
“You have no need to travel anywhere – journey within yourself. Enter a mine of rubies and bathe in the splendor of your own light.” By Rumi
A voyage from known to unknown…
From familiar to unfamiliar,
This universe, a mystifying puzzle,
How much we are able to decipher!
Childhood to adulthood…
Life's long journey,
Ebbs and flows of a movement
Towards meaning, or against the current,
Tumultuous mostly,
Joyous at times, painful often,
An ocean of fascinating experiences,
Waves of delightful memories
Lapping on the shores of our senses!
In ancient times, sailors and travellers embarked on
Voyages to explore the mysteries of the world,
Fear of being perished, from hunger or thirst,
Angst of getting lost in tempestuous seas,
Could never bar those adventurous minds.
A river’s murmuring journey to the sea,
Where it meets the eventual destination,
Falling leaves get frenzied in ultimate euphoria,
Returning to the soil, their resting place final!
A candle melts and drips to its end
illuminating darkness!
We all are on our voyage…
Only at a temporary harbour we pause,
Steer through blissful moments,
Sorrows and misery,
Heartbreak and despair,
We smile, we bleed, we mourn,
Until we reach our infinite abode!