Long Scuttles Poems
Long Scuttles Poems. Below are the most popular long Scuttles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Scuttles poems by poem length and keyword.
The klaxon sounds and off we do scurry
Up to the gun house we head in a hurry
Through narrow p-ways and up noisy stairs
We pass each other with far away glares
What threat to meet, all do wonder
We’re well trained and there’ll be no blunder
Hatches closed and scuttles secured
Drive motors humming, we speak not a word
Ammo to the hoist, battle dress in place
Flash hoods cover all but our face
“Mt 51 manned and ready!”
Gas eject air pressure is holding steady
“Air action port!” our circuits align
Gun slews, the target to find
“On target aircraft!” the checksight declares
Our peril confirmed, no drill, all just a deep inhale
“Right and left guns load!” first powder then shot
To the mad dance, cast we all our lot
Guns loaded, we track knowing not when
Waiting the salvo alarm, the dance soon to begin
Fourteen men poised, ready for the show
Bound to each other, not for their own glory they do go
Gong! Gong! Fire! The first stanza a roar
Then rapid and continuous we feed each bore
“Bore clear!” signals to load the next round
As hot-case men pitch spent brass to the ground
Practiced harmony, each motion robotic
Load!, Ram!, Fire!, Eject! the cadence hypnotic
Smoke and flareback, gases choking
Onward we whirl, and curse the foe attacking
“Foul bore left gun!”
A stuck case has us undone
Pry bar in hand, the Gunner appears
The extractors are broken, confirming worst fears
Casing removed and the gun finally clear
Up all night we’ll be, fixing this gear
“Cease fire!” all safely emerge
Realize we now, our fears to purge
Destruction averted, another hour to draw breath
Till the enemy returns, seeking our death
“Police up that brass and swab out those barrels!”
The chief keeps us all intent on the peril
They will come again, or we will seek them out
So little rest we take, while the issue is in doubt
***************************************
This describes a live shoot from the prospective of
the men manning a twin 5 inch gun aboard a destroyer.
These ships were common in our Navy from 1944 through
about 1980. The "old salts" out there will find this very familiar.
This is a spinoff from my "Tin Can Sailors" write even though
the ships in that story were single mounts. Same gun, but
with just one barrel. Those were before my time.
the raspy whisper
finally
gets my full attention -
wistfully I smile
..for its persistence reminds me of you..
the crisp red leaf
scuttles scrapingly
across the gray pavement
to and fro
like a dancing crab
moving with the whims of the winds
chasing me
as it seemed like I had once chased my dreams;
blown in directions left up to chance
..until I met you..
..is it now, as it was then
Destiny?
for in this instant, my sense of direction
seems predestined..
a smoky scent
spices the chilled blue air
reminding me of our cozy nights
curled with the fire
..entranced
as we were
with our warmth
and our flame..
could it be
love signals from the hearth
calling me home..?
..my soul
feels akin to the red leaf,
the wafting smoke
and I am ready to follow..
Would the cold atmosphere be so cruel
as to play capricious tricks upon my eyes... or
..is that really
YOU
standing there..?
Oh!
my beloved,
how my broken spirit
has suffered
in my pining desire to be with you -
I run to you!
years of yearning prayers answered
fingertips straining - stretching further
reaching out to touch you,
the whole of my being aching
to hold you and enfold you
..ah, I feel your heat
so very close to me..
Alas!
I fall to my knees,
my arms empty
but for the loss I carry..
your warm breath
on the nape of my neck
only my hot want
brewed with a cool wisp of the breeze
..Oh, God! Please!
just let it be
let me go..!
my forsaken flame less than a dying ember;
I but ashes in my grief
withered
in my autumn season
without you
still...
I’m slow to realize...
that your fading glow just the sun slanting low
blurring wicked whimsy with my wild sorrow
in the burning of these bitter tears.
Susan Ashley
December 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: NA the day away
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*N/A’d: Best Free Verse 2019 Poetry Contest*
~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Your Choice (2) Any Theme, Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Poem Of The Day ~
December 4, 2018
Our God who lives, flows in the waters,
tumbles in rivers, and drifts in snows,
flashes as silver from shoals of fish,
darts in darkness round rugged rocks,
blooms afresh as showers bring flowers
with fresh aromas for bugs and bees.
With all the creatures we are one,
at one with God in wonder held.
Our God who lives, catches the wind,
flies in the skies, and travels afar
with migratory birds on the wing –
swallows and swifts, butterflies too;
God floats with owls over meadows,
dives with the gannets into the surf.
With all on the wing we are one,
at one in God who launches all.
Our God who lives, watches alert,
protects the newborn in the nest,
keeping them warm with down or fur,
crouches and pounces when on the hunt,
scuttles or burrows seeking refuge –
for fox and mouse, God lives in each.
With all on the ground we are one,
at one with God in pain or joy.
Our God dies, entombed with Jesus,
hides in the earth, then breathes upon us
autumn scents from leaves that decay,
parches with wind, scorches with fire,
plagues us with vermin and virus.
Nothing is waste, all is renewed –
as all creatures we are mortal,
at one in Christ we die and live.
God lives anew, thrives in the soil,
swells in the oceans, stirs in the breeze,
croaks among us in courting frogs,
calls to us in the curlew's song,
shines from corals caught in the light,
rests in the shade of leaves above.
With all the creatures we are one,
at one with God to tend and care.
God's Spirit moving, brings us change,
for ever leading, always ahead.
Come let us find what wisdom shows,
lightly treading among what is spread,
gazing in wonder and delight,
serving and sharing gifts for life.
Our God who raises Christ as king
uplifts us all to praise and sing.
Our God who lives, flows in waters,
drifts in clouds and glows in snow,
flashes silver fish in shallows,
darts in darkness round the rocks,
blooms afresh as showers bring flowers,
freshens scent for bugs and bees.
Here we live together woven,
one with God in wonder held.
Our God who lives, moves with breezes,
flies in skies and travels far,
floats with owls to quarter meadows,
dives with gannets in the surf.
on the wing with birds migrating –
swallows, swifts and butterflies;
Though they fly in all directions,
God is with them in their flight.
Our God lives, alert and watching,
over newborn in the nest,
keeps them warm with fur or feather,
crouches, pounces on the hunt,
scuttles, burrows, refuge seeking –
fox and mouse, God lives in each.
On the ground we are together,
held by God in pain or joy.
Our God dies, entombed with Jesus,
from the earth he on us breathes
autumn scents from leaves decaying,
whiffs of springtime gifting life.
Grubs and worms soil over turning;
naught is wasted, all made new.
Like all creatures we are mortal,
as with Christ we die and live.
God lives anew, now arising,
swelling oceans, winds astir,
croaks to us as frogs are courting,
calls to us in curlew's song,
shines from corals colours gleaming,
rests in shade of leaves above.
Called to serve your living creatures
guide us God to tend and care.
Holy Spirit ever moving,
always leading, out ahead.
Come let's find what wisdom's showing,
lightly tread among what's spread,
gaze in wonder and amazement,
serve and share the gifts of life.
God who raises Christ in glory
lift us all to praise and sing.
Tunes: Abbot's Leigh, Blaenwern, Hyfrydol 8787.D
A re-write of Our God Flies
Musing with Caren Krutsinger’s musings. I love
our dear poet’s imagination. Thank you, Caren
for allowing me to use your poem and a few phrases
from your poem. Used poem by permission.
My Food Flees from Me
Caren,
A creepy thing I would devour
But wait, wait, wait…
not fuzzy wuzzy in the drain;
are you insane?!
Tickly tasty, i won’t wasty,
wiggles and waggles -
the hashtag “what am i thinking?!”
I watch it move - stomach’s sinking.
My food flees from me…that might be
just what i need!
Don’t be hasty - tastes like cookie?
My brain reacts like a rookie.
Cookie doesn’t slide nor slither
on my pink tongue.
I’m persnickety and picky,
quite realize this snack is icky.
Though your friendship i encourage,
i’ve no courage
for bugs that bathe in the sink
or crawl on the floor. I need shrink!
No! No! No bugs at all, my friend.
My skin’s crawling,
as i’m spitting out the thought.
I’ll eat good things, as i’ve been taught.
4/28/2023
Find Your PS Muse
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Not as Picky as I Thought She Was
If I was hungry I would devour that creepy thing I think.
It is something tasty that crawled out of my sink
You don’t even know what it is my friend says.
She is persnickety and picky, my pal Inez.
Look at its legs, I reply. They look tickly tasty.
Not so fast! Says the crawler. Let’s not be hasty!
Inez says “I never eat food that speaks to me.”
“I will make an exception,” I say, “That thing is free.”
Inez is not as choosy as I thought that she was.
I begin bathing the sink creature, fluffing his fuzz.
"Wait!" the crawly thing says. “That brush is too short for me!”
The second I stop, he scuttles down the drain to flee.
Caren Krutsinger
Hell breaks loose through the trusting door
Whining its splintering, wooden hinges
Claws wrapping onto the arches beyond
Gnarled feet pressed on the threshold
Lower limbs jingling with sparky anklets
Ready to catapult and kick with spitting mouth
To shove its shine like a worthy prick
It was time for her daily purges
Peace is slapped about in her fickle hands and made ragged
Turmoil in her pedicured toes erodes the smoothed surfaces
Of the fashions’ must, into dusty rust of sick disgust
Her coral lips curve in delight
At the sight of confused and crazy creatures
Staring numbly at her hell-bent sight
She is always laughing, snarling or lying low
Waiting for the climatic blow
Bottom dwelling, blush smearer
Eyeliner runner, nail-biting binger
Her lies tease and her eyes see a perfect she will never be
As her large, curved nails glimmer
She scuttles her way like a crab in a salty delirium
She hides her hiss like a snake ready to miss for a chase
Challenging practicality,
“Dear Prudence,
Won’t you come out to play?”
But we are silent to the accursed
The wise are wary and rehearsed
We all slip right through as she intrudes an empty room
Waiting for a reaction, screwing with the lights to assert a distraction
She wreaks havoc in the dark,
“Dear Prudence!”
She screams,
As we softly walk down the path, nomads against the crabs
She doesn’t realize she is her worst fear—alone
Her mask melting and her anklets snapping
Collapsing, the tears she squeezed for her high
Were emptied, vindicated and dried
Angrily she must realize
In her twisted, stubborn way
It’s a beautiful day…
A crazy collab with my brother David Breidenthal [J.W Earnings]
Mind often makes a circuitous pilgrimage
Sliding down and going up the banisters of time
As I hear the grating sound of worn stairs behind
Memories come darting in and out of shadows
From childhood’s flamboyant days
Mind scuttles between the past and the present
Skipping over the bliss of buoyant youth
To life’s present weary days and to the future
Life’s train has sadly changed its track
Years, like torn pages have flown away
But the frivolous inner child pines
Obstinately for all that once held dear
I remember having run over plains n’ paddy fields
Trying to cut across their widening margins
Brushing past brambles and thickets
To chase butterflies that came to molest the lovely blooms
How I went on a search to meet the winged seraphs
That I heard, sang in chorus in Heaven’s gilded halls
Looked for God, amid scurrying clouds,
To slay the ghosts, I believed, hidden in my closet
I remember my youth of squandered passions
When I scrawled love’s graffiti on my mind’s wall
And carried my beloved’s picture in my mind
So flawless that no artist could ever conspire to alter.
Now I constantly wage a losing battle
Against forces that threaten to take away my calm
All I see is pain, death and human suffering
And life sadly getting lost in meaningless strife
Age has burdened me with a deadly weight
Fastening chains on my once supple feet
All I pray is – Don’t let me be a burden to anyone
And give me a mindset to accept all that comes my way
--------------------------------
April.13. 2023
Open Poetry. 6. Poetry Contest
Sponsor. Charlotte Puddifoot
the old sea-pool churns out fun
frantic heads flick side to side, limbs flashing, thrashing
some are slicing, cutting through
elegant submariners chased by water-wake
here is one of distinction!
stylistic splasher, appendages pummelling
plunge under, submerged from sight
absent for longer than you are prepared to look
where is he? where's goggle-eyes?
he's there on the diving board, arm and body poised
launches out, " Dymo " diving
flat trajectory, depth-charge slap, bow-wave rippling
then disappears down the years
is that really him? no goggles, the next-door house
distinctly in there somewhere
reclusive, settled deep in the parental home
comes up for air, now and then
bicycle scuttles by, too fast, no time for talk
submerged by night-time shadows
the rare morning breaks, he is there! so have a word
chat about those poolside days
glimmer in his eyes, about to say, turns away
hasty retreat back through time
" Dymo's " really gone now, submerged, bow-wave rippling
days merge, weeks, months and decades
we misplace our keys to unlock the present now
cascading hullabaloo
our minds fill up with noise, too much whoosh, too much din
frustration bangs the door
we exasperate, repeat our repetitions
submerged below the moment
grasp at recognition, at memory sticking
immersion, pressure building
hold our breath, hold our years inside the pool of joy
rush up again, what's the fuss?
hanging on, kick the feet, relaunch, bow-wave rippling
when war approaches, miles away
it scuttles sideways like a crab
or creeps slowly, slowly and slowly
like a reptile,
with holocaust claws;
a quick eye sees,
a smart heart reads,
at distance.
war, as you may think,
is not the pandemonium
occasioned by the actions of noisy missiles,
nor the havoc wrought by Satan 2 explosion.
war is not the sporadic shootings
nor the rumbling grenades
that make the noble cities a desolation.
war is quiet!
war is when the noise has died down,
and the murky smoke disappears
from the sky
to settle in the mind;
and sundry sicknesses begin to creep
upon the earth.
war is when poor souls are left
to endure the wroth of a ferocious hunger;
when we remember our friends and lovers
but can never again see their faces.
then the soul wanders
in the nostalgic path of peacetime,
and we wish those cruel days never be.
war is the sight of miserable kids
separated from their parents
without a parting message.
war is the plight of women stripped naked
by the death of husbands and children,
and that of the promising kids turning waifs
amidst of desolations.
but we can win a war and lose nothing,
we can win a war without a gunshot,
if we avoid it early.
for those who start fire
are not burned by it.
those consumed by the flame
never want war.
must we let peace lead
and shun war.
must we let love rescue the earth
from the verge of extinction.
for when we fight in the war,
it's only our friends that we kill.
How quick in sun's furnace falls
Faith like a withered leaf!
How sad dead friendship recalls
The songs that balmed our grief!
When then we shared belief before
You my fealty to truth adore
Your response was praise, naught more
In the surge of truth upon the shore
how pious you became when I prayed
How reverent while the candle flamed
Nothing in me made love dismayed
Every echo of the prophet you framed
And did you say the answers were sure
Signs that God favored our belief
Nor then trusted you another cure
To scale the battlements and bring relief
And for what now do you revile and hate
Nor question the demons that arose
To imprison your heart in their dark fate
What Christ would so your flaws expose?
I pray still, the ultimate prayer now
That God will bring you back again
That self will surrender to yield the vow
Like shattered glass that serves the pain
I pray for you, and I pray more for me
That by understanding patience endures
Does not the serpent hunts human frailty
Those who sip must pray grace restores?
The cup, the cup, I resnt it, polished new
Abomination scuttles innocense, then invent
The wickedness that others do; what's true
Is that I unsubmitted stir demons to discontent
I pray not for them, but for you, faith gone so soon
Figment and self brings joy to dark despair
Water changes to blood in a frightening moon
I believe grace still holds amidst tides of fear
How quick in sun's furnace falls
Faith like a withered leaf!
How sad dead friendship recalls
The sad destruction of belief.