Long Shipwreck Poems
Long Shipwreck Poems. Below are the most popular long Shipwreck by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Shipwreck poems by poem length and keyword.
Deep down below in the shadowy sea
a solitary mermaid hides herself from the human eye.
She spends her days swimming amongst the majestic whales,
and playing with the friendly dolphins.
Her world is nothing but bright coral reefs
immersed in blue-green aqua waters.
She floats above the white sand, ocean bottom
searching the depths for pearls and sunken treasures.
A mermaid doesn't realize what a rare beauty she is herself.
Because, she is only seen by these sea creatures,
who never bothered to tell her that.
Her eyes have only seen vague images of the sun and the moon
through rippled ocean waves.
A starfish is the only celestial wonder she will ever know.
A stingray is the only bird she has ever seen.
No snowflakes fall down here,
no rose can bloom underwater.
She will never know the beauty of a butterfly or a rainbow.
There is no music to be heard, just the tides crashing to shore.
A mermaid knows the tragedy of a shipwreck.
But, never witnesses the happiness, before the iceberg.
Her only happiness comes from riding her seahorse,
and making friends with the few other mermaids that exist.
But, little did she know that there was more to discover
outside of her watery world.
And, all she had to do was rise above the surface to find it.
She lived her entire life beneath the waves, never knowing this.
The inner walls of that universe called a life,
Hold within not only the stormy seas of strife,
But serene mountain lakes where only silence reigns:
A master wall of rage with tears that come from rains.
The puppeteer on the outside whose strings employ,
Who tugs and pulls with little hooks the helpless toy,
Plays the fool for the fools who choose to blindly see,
That the mime of life is but a shipwreck at sea
Within the chambers we find doors but have no keys,
We are pushed by voices and tones that seldom please,
To do what we hardly want, to deny who we are,
Commandments to obey, dictates from stars afar
Who is in charge of the ineptitude of self?
What hands, by what right was this code typed in stealth?
In the audience a man stares at the puppet,
The muppet, with a grin, knows nothing can stop it
Depressed,
Heavily intoxicated,
Under the influence of drugs,
After taking anti-anxiety medication,
Barricaded with his dogs,
A gun beneath his chin,
He is ready to cross the threshold.
He refuses to cooperate.
The shop windows are shattered.
Cries erupt.
Curtains are torn down.
The gendarmes have forced open his door.
Handcuffed in the police van,
He longs for a cigarette.
He sees no way out.
He has escaped from the psychiatric hospital.
The flashing blue lights tear through the night.
The sirens plow through the silence.
His gaze passes through the walls,
Without meeting a single face.
Wrists scarred by steel,
A mind shattered by exhaustion,
Memories strike harder
Than rifle butts and van doors.
The dogs howl in the distance,
As if counting the absences of their traumatized master.
The neighbors close their shutters.
Rumors replace his dignity.
In the rearview mirror of the police van,
Years of shipwreck drift by,
Promises reduced to ashes,
Tomorrows without a shore.
The descent into hell pronounces no final verdict.
It merely piles up the wreckage of a shattered life.
And somewhere, behind the uniforms,
Behind the shattered windows,
Behind the anger and the handcuffs,
A breath still remains,
Fragile, almost inaudible,
Refusing to disappear.
Shadows hiss_per, of secret,
buildup-congealed,
no longer trapped within curiosity's seals.
Oceans of thoughts crash, unrested,
on the rocks and hard-placed
reveal of faith tested, self unmasked.
Yearning souls beneath it's cloak,
in fascination, unwittingly evoke.
Stoke of spirits with egging yoke, at hand.
While you're seeking solace, longing for hope to land.
Whorish grasp tightens its occupation,
stores window inn, occupancy in your thinking gland.
In the darkest corners, shadows dance,
whispering castanets of a mysterious trance.
Curiosity lingers, inquisitive and cold,
Unveiling the stories, waiting to be told.
Thoughts, like waves crash upon your shore,
restless siren, longing to shipwreck more.
Faith tested, like swim against the tide,
revealing the fact that you cannot hide.
Clouded reason, hidden beneath a shroud,
Beknownst monologues , speaking aloud.
Awakening spirits, with a guiding poke,
furnish, as their hope is stoked.
Acting on grasp, tightening its hold,
encroaching upon thoughts, as scenes roll.
Occupying windows of the mind, so
intertwined, cryptic-thespian-lines.
Shadow_wall scenes,
taunt you, bait you by your own designs.
Le vaisseau d'or
Ce fut un grand Vaisseau taillé dans l'or massif:
Ses mâts touchaient l'azur, sur des mers inconnues;
La Cyprine d'amour, cheveux épars, chairs nues
S'étalait à sa proue, au soleil excessif.
Mais il vint une nuit frapper le grand écueil
Dans l'Océan trompeur où chantait la Sirène,
Et le naufrage horrible inclina sa carène
Aux profondeurs du Gouffre, immuable cercueil.
Ce fut un Vaisseau d'Or, dont les flancs diaphanes
Révélaient des trésors que les marins profanes,
Dégoût, Haine et Névrose, entre eux ont disputés.
Que reste-t-il de lui dans la tempête brève?
Qu'est devenu mon coeur, navire déserté?
Hélas! Il a sombré dans l'abîme du Rêve!
--- Émile Nélligan
The Golden Vessel
It was an immense Craft carved out of solid gold:
Its masts touched the azure, on uncharted seas;
A Venus of disheveled hair, naked flesh
Lounging at the bow, in the blazing sun.
But one night struck the great reef
In the ephemeral ocean wherein sang the Siren,
And the ghastly shipwreck plunged its hull
Into the depths of the Abyss, an inert coffin.
It was a Golden Vessel, whose diaphanous hull
Unveiled treasures that uninitiated sailors,
Disgust, Hatred and Neurosis, bickered over.
What there remains in the sudden squall?
What has become of my heart, forlorn craft?
Alas! It has sunk into an abyss of Phantasm!
-- translated by Christopher Johnston
Paul's Pearl
"Take up thy cross and follow Me"
If my discipline, you choose to be
Goals for yourself you must deny
Jesus spoke to those who stood by
He knew that soon the greatest trial
Coming from those who were hostile
Would await Him at the cross
As He endured pain and earthly loss
The ultimate sacrifice He did give
That beyond the grave we can live
No greater love was ever known
Than Jesus gave, for His own
For those who choose to follow Him
At times, the journey will be grim
Just don't forget that final goal
The important issue - is the soul
Trials for most of us are small
Compared to those of the apostle Paul
From that day on the Damascus road
Material "things" began to erode
In my infirmities I will glory
As I proclaim the Gospel story
When I am weak, then I am strong
Let this be, my theme and song
Shipwreck and abuse he knew so well
Still the Gospel he lauded from a cell
But as fiery darts around him did swirl
Paul's peril, became a pearl
Colan L Hiatt = 09-07-16
© All Rights Reserved
I met a Czech now living in Quebec
Very handsome in crisp turtleneck
He tells a sad story about a shipwreck
But now has a highfalutin job here in high tech
Alec loves to strut muscles in a crew neck
Play outdoor hockey and body check
Climb mountains on a challenging trek
Water ski off a summer cottage deck
Answer any pop quiz about the Aztec
Let loose at the swinging discotheque
Draws the line at pretending he knows a speck
About anything related to home ec
One day Alec was about to write a blank cheque
To some random bushwhacking redneck
Who tried to sell him a bushel and a peck
I sent him on a hike as he pulled a quick rubberneck
I told Alec it was his dance moves I’d like to check
And maybe let him nibble a little on my neck
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
CALMING WAVING WRINKLED THOUGHTS
In the fog of the sea of mind,
Skiffing thoughts flow to and fro
On wrinkling waves frothing
To who knows where, as they
Ripple to be or not to be, echoes
Of negativity, neutral, or whatever:-
In the mental sky’s hovering of all of this,
A flash of enlightening awareness reveals
The necessity of the need to test the rudder
Of these wandering, skiffing though, towards
The reality shores of waiting sands of positivity:-
Praise be to the Giver of divine wisdom,
In the midst of such shipwreck-like thoughts,
Where it becomes necessary to realize that
We are not only navigators of the sea of mind,
But also controllers of its mental flow skiffed
Wandering thoughts in need of divine guidance:-
As seen in nature, the flowing waters of life’s seas
Are not always waving calmness and collectiveness:-
Rather, they are sometimes watered-skinned with turmoil,
And are in need of divine climatic attention to settle down:-
Thus, whenever turbulent thoughts enter the sea of our minds,
Remember, in its nature, we must also control our mind’s climate:-
Bombshell
You’re „all in all“
My heart talks about
You’re all it babbles about
The words themselves
Will not appear right
Which alone can’t describe
How I love you, my Sweetheart
If you believe perfection
Simply isn’t real
Kiss your love in the rain
Many things in this space
Can wash away pain
But none of them compare
To kiss in the rain
The downpour calls
For two lovers
Deeply slammed
Into each other
Joyfully fused
By the flood’s lips
By the wilding
Rainfall’s hot kiss
And if you wanna know
How much I miss you
Try to catch raindrops
The captured ones
Are your lack signallizers
The missed droplets
My absence’s markers
Gravity bind me to you
Your omnipresent aura
The loud beat of my heart
Sparkling starlights
In the twinkling moonlight
The liberating force of
Oxidizing splendor
Taking me out
Of my sorrow
I would be lost
My princess,
Without you
With my spirit and my whole body
You’re nobody else, honey
Who holds to my heart the key
You have gripped captured my soul
With a ferocity reserved for a castaway
Of a shipwreck clinging to a raft
In the middle of an endless ocean
If my soul was a raft
It’s your hold keeping me afloat
Your squeeze would keep
Above water my soul
Don’t ever let it go
I envelop you with
Passion of heartbeats
Covering you with
My tender feelings
My love sheath won’t
Mess with this
No other love
Can penetrate in
Your love runs
Through my vessels
Down to my palpitating
Heart shell
Mirroring your fiercely
Blazing flame
Your love give me
Something I need
Your warmth give me
Something to feel
Your heart give me
Something what’s real
The Key of Mist
The key melted in my palm, like wax gone soft with dusk,
the green gate rose into skies that kept receding, farther still,
I searched for it through mirrors birthing other worlds from this one,
and in its place I found only my shadow, dead inside my words,
and the key, turned into dew, ran through the whole of my dreaming,
and was lost in the evening's smoke, like a song without a voice.
I looked for it on a spiral staircase without any end,
it was a night like the inside of a cathedral made of crystal,
and the steps climbed toward the stars and descended toward the roots,
the frozen candles burned with violet flames,
and every flame put out before the icons became a galaxy,
spinning inside me like a clock stopped out of eternity.
And I stayed in my tower of smoke, under three burnt coats of arms:
Memory's, which aches in me, Forgetting's, which calls me on,
and a Dream's, that never returned from any night long past,
and I stayed in the gothic tower, lord over my own vast reaches,
over an empire of mirrors in which I am nothing at all,
only an echo dissolving into its own mystic abyss.
And since last night moments have passed like butterflies of mercury,
and since last night hours have passed like rivers turned back into the sky,
and dawn, its wings scorched from so much running through the void,
scattered through my hair the glimmer of dead constellations,
and every living moment turned to stone on another step,
of the staircase that rose toward me and descended toward someone else.
And I went down the staircase... but on the very last step
my key had turned into a cup made of opal,
filled not with hemlock wine, but with liquefied stars,
and I drank from it the silence of every lost night,
and I read at the bottom of the cup, as in a wise old book,
the shipwreck of my soul, that has waited for me a lifetime.