Long Sailors Poems
Long Sailors Poems. Below are the most popular long Sailors by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sailors poems by poem length and keyword.
Jonah was a man chosen by God
for a mission that was in God's heart
a heart of love for the people of Ninevah
but Jonah didn't want to be a part
Did he not realise how important it was?
for God's mission calls His own to obey
but Jonah was stubborn refuse to go
only later find out there's a price to pay
So Jonah got on the ship at Joppa
heading for Tarshish from God he fled
but the seas roared so sailors threw him off
God sent a great fish that be Jonah's bed
But Jonah remembered the Lord his God
so God told the fish to vomit him on dry land
Jonah then obeyed and went to Ninevah
where the people repented by his hand
I see myself so much just like Jonah
refusing to go and tell of God's love
but later in life turn around and do obey
realising God knows everything from above
Jonah like me likes to do his own thing
no matters what others say he knew best
but in the end, gives God his place
knowing that's how to pass heavens test
Jonah and me the best of buddies
God teaches us by our Jesus studies
(The story of Jonah would be my fav Bible story as seeing myself in Jonah's life, made his mistakes but see God coming to both our sides with his grace.)
If I had wings would I fly with birds on high or touch the evening skies?
If I were a jet could I see beyond the sunset to view the other side?
If I had another’s eyes would I still see the world as it is?
If I were a ship would I sail the deepest seas or maybe crash upon a reef ?
If I were an eagle would I prey upon innocent lambs or traverse distant lands?
If I were a tree would squirrels still scuttle among my leaves
hiding their acorns, or birds their seeds?
If I were the ocean would I ebb and reel or help sailors maintain an even keel?
If I were the wind would I demolish all evil things or blow the breath of peace
Into the hearts of men ?
If I had a choice what would I choose to be, knowing that
IF I were anything else would I be as blessed as I am, being ME?
Early morning and dense mist greets me
My eyes open wide all clarity gone
There's a sense of tangible mystery
If reaching out what will I touch?
Through open front door wisp of fog intrudes
With a slight damp earthy smell
Our postman has an undefined presence
Plowing through enveloping mist.
Standing on step shrouded in vapour
There's a resounding echo across the bay
Ships and sailors all at risk
Horns extra loud calling to each other.
Closing door I am reminded of a seafarer's prayer
Let me sail seven seas safely
Through turbulence and storm
Remind me of safe harbour
To which I'm ever drawn,
THE TENTH WAVE
The rain drops prick the skin of the sea
Tumble with the urchins in the water,
The black water, so heavy, tired--
Watching it tic tac toe in millions of tiny rings
Tic tac toe, three by three by three
Up until infinity--
As scores of seagulls watched from buoys
Red sky at night, sailor's delight
Isn't that how it goes?
All hands on deck! All hands!
Until then came, out of the night sky, a wind
With the sound and fury of a thousand black horses
Pummeling down on the water, the great, fearsome ocean
And stirring it up like a bowl of soup
All hands!
The great boats all groaned in protest,
Their wet, wooden bellies full
Reeds choking shores uprooted and flew at the storm
The whole world seemed to be feeding the storm,
Which would not be satiated, but howled for more
Chunks of earth, wood, sail, even human souls
Would not appease such an appetite
And then, in the pulse of three hours, a brief
Quiet...
...an aching silence
where the sun deceived them
By shirking off the clouds for a moment
Hear the call of the birds...
Red sky at morning, at morning, at mourning
It was then that the waves began--
Undulating at first, feel the water breathe,
Soon rising, rising, black towers
Into walls of water no one could scale,
Ripping across the top in violent zig-zags
White madness, the open mouth-
-and they came, they came in rows
As tall as nightmares, even hungrier than the wind
And they ate up everything they touched,
Swallowing lives, swallowing that which made them
Pulling our dwarfed armies into the deep, deep
Dark, black salt water
Until then, after the herald, and the birds didn't sing anymore
A tenth wave, which rose colossal over the rest,
Moving like a lost city,
Over the darkness, a shadow covering this world
Silenced what was left to be silenced
Little sailors
Little sailors
All sailor's songs end
And On the Land
Your little wives
Will catch your songs on the wind
Will pick up those songs on the winds
Breath-taking fish follow our footprints
into the booming sea.
A multicolored native child lives there
it walks upon the pushed-up swell,
bell-diving while standing
on the deep dark waves.
You may well dream of this
as the sun plays across your closed eyelids.
You may ask yourself
why the songs of the sea are always sad
even when the sailors fiddle and jig,
and why these images
are so tantalizingly inexplicable
like a saltlick on the moon.
It's the whales you see,
their peace roars, their size expands
even the very smallest places.
It is the alien giant squids of grace,
that does not belong anywhere
yet it floats in a balloon
of eternally penetrating silence.
For all dry-docked and new-laid minds
there's a pulsing birthing canal
still open and waiting,
find it inside a closed seashell of time
within the rippling molecules of tsunamis
where the native-born are spawned.
We are watching the surf roll in and out
and it is certainly not strange
to suffer a moment of absolute exile,
a real 'home sweet home' solitude
and a tidal homelessness.
What if the sun did not rise?
It slept in.
Banged the alarm off, hard.
Would you go back to bed?
Would you scream and holler,
"Not fair! I have to get to work".
The bells still chimed.
The cocks crowed late, hesitant.
The birds peeped a look, under doona covers.
The neighbors, used to early starts,
headed off in the dark with headlights on
to drop the kids at school.
Did they know the Sun was late, On Strike?
Perhaps not!
The street lights stayed on for now.
No sign of red on horizon,
to give sailors warning.
Darkness never ending,
no sequel in the works.
Come on, Sun!
Get Up!
We're waiting?
Still!
The Queen has a navy
That floats in her gravy,
It’s sharp and its clear,
But it’s sure tough to steer,
For the rudders get stuck
In that thick, grayish muck,
And the lads in the stern
Have a penchant to yearn
For the bright shining waters
All popping with otters,
Yet they smile as they sail past
Her Majesty’s repast,
And wink as they think
That they’d better not sink,
For if sailors go down
In the gravy, they’ll drown,
And you can’t hear them yelp
Through the lard for some help,
And therefore it’s wise
On the ship to keep eyes,
And they sail towards a biscuit
And think that they’ll risk it,
‘Midst butters and jams,
And kippers and clams,
On a crumbly crag
Raise Her Majesty’s flag,
And with hearts beating proud
Face the smiling crowd,
For a deed large or small,
It is better than all,
If it’s done with conviction,
Not merely good diction,
And protecting the table,
Or more, if you’re able,
Brings honor unseen
To country and Queen.
The Sirens of the sea are calling
With a voice that is beyond compare
No man can pass without then falling
Into a spell that is their snare
With a voice that is beyond compare
They sing their eternal song
Into a spell that is their snare
To draw him in and do him wrong
They sing their eternal song
Calling for a goddesses return
To draw him in and do him wrong
They'll trap some sailors on their berms
Calling for a goddesses return
She was kidnapped by Hades you see
They'll trap some sailors on their berms
For the god of death won't set her free
She was kidnapped by Hades you see
He plans to have her company forever
For the god of death won't set her free
Her presence there he will not sever
He plans to have her company forever
No man can pass without then falling
Her presence there he will not sever
The sirens of the sea are calling
the vanishing
My fingers itch to write, not about the moon
is a balloon, the title of David Nivens book
if you remember, he was the first James Bond
I refuse to turn on the news, a big ship is
in trouble, setting to sea in stormy weather
on the coast of Norway to give amateur
sailors a thrill and upset stomachs
I have read the news in one of Britain's most
famous newspaper, Palestine wants NATO
to protect them, NATO says they can't because
Palestine is not a member of the alliance
although they bombed Libya, mainly for as
the USA said, fighting for freedom
the genocide will be complete when children
are murdered, if anyone is left, they will be
a curiosity and the Israeli of the quaint people
who used to live there, goat herders that
believed in a false religion called Islam
Patriots are called upon to serve this nation in so many ways;
Soldiers, sailors, airmen, marines, each deserving praise.
Yet, there is a group who seldom get the praise they deserve;
They are the spouses, kids and parents, for they also serve.
Tho' they don't wear a uniform or hear the battles' din,
Their love and faith ever sustain their precious next-of-kin.
Until that special one returns, family life they must preserve,
For in this vital quest, these valiant heroes also serve.
They take seriously the kinship with their patriots in arms,
Praying for their safety and protection from all harms.
They're proud of the troops who our precious freedoms preserve.
Families are a vital part of the team, for they also serve.
Tho' the separations are painful and doleful tears are shed,
They face with determination the challenges that lie ahead,
And from their pride and devotion they will never swerve,
These loyal, loving families, they who also serve.
Tho' warriors are honored with medals placed upon their breasts,
And promotions are bestowed as reward for righteous quests,
Alas, honors aren't conferred upon families who with steadfast nerve,
Remain at home to guard and guide, they who also serve.
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired (© All Rights Reserved)