Long Trawl Poems

I.Jesus Spoke to His Father

Jesus spoke to His Heavenly Father
Raising up to heaven His ardent pray’r
With deep bleeding wounds that he’d all endured,
Still hang on the cross to make our soul pure.
Words He uttered were...

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While on the topic 
of blood kith and kin,
I relate another 
fabricated poem about 
blimey bloke of a fisherman. 

Trawl tale of a fictitious seaman told to ye...

Courtesy webbed whirled wide net wit
cursing thwarted life,...

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The putrid, malodorous and fowl nauseating smell 
   can still be conjured nearly fifty years later wracked
I never forget ineradicable tangy, sulfurous 
   acrid odor rankled olfaction tract
entire sinus cavity, yet...

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Of a distant land I ponder.
Of a country torn asunder.
Of Zimbabwe ne'er forgotten -
Where the life has turned so rotten.
Ah it tugs my heartstrings so -
This much loved land so full of woe.

In my dreams...

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(scoured from dregs of me muss held head)

I shore up a vignette to free 
my ("FAKE") grandfather Hymie,
whose scrunched countenanced 
evinced beetle that of browed monkey
he spent his entire life at sea
his thick calloused hands

and...

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There's a feeling of sadness
Mixed with a wistful awe
As we pick our careful way
Across a rubble strewn floor.
An eerie sort of half light,
As though hiding from the day,
Hiding our history until
It's finally thrown away.

This building...

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The ghost of Harriet Harris abhor real
disillusioned, disenchanted,
and disembodied (incorporeal
spirit of mine late mother) doth feel
displeasure toward this sole son seal

ling himself most every day inside
the one bedroom flat, a bargain deal
asper costs pegged to...

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Mister Joe, poet, jangles loose change in his pocket,
Jogging memories and garnering thoughts as he walks.
For Mr. Joe's brain washes, tumbles and dries,
his gems of thoughts in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and rhymes.
Each wash-up,...

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Are there ghosts on Hessle Road
Do the bell bottomed boys
Slide quietly into Rayners
For the pint, the craic, the noise.
Do their pockets still jingle
Until, having spent it all
It's again through the Bullnose
To pursue the ghostly trawl.

Do...

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2000 miles is a long ways, and 50 plus years is a very long time.
It spells the time and space that have separated me and my two friends.
Back then, whether it was hay, ammonia, cowboys,...

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I am slid into the core of the big white tube.
It will reveal all my moving parts
all the flagging and wheezing organics
that reside in the same apartment block,
share the same airducts and plumbing,
but otherwise hang...

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)))))(((((
                                  ...

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Subconsciously I'm alive in this skeletal frame
Why I am here belongs to this living worlds fame

I was but a child, when it all happened years ago
At the place called the Ness, that stemmed my younger...

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The day is fading into night,
The sea turning black as can be.
This is when my mind kicks in,
When it goes off meandering.

It shows me ships from far away,
From another time in history.
Sailing ships from a...

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Plus Live Sharks

"The female deposits the egg, which the male fertilizes by
spraying sperm on it."
-- Day Care Lesson 1: "Fishie Sex"

*   *   *

The caviar of mergirls still is she,
this little roe...

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Mister Joe, would-be muse, 
jangles loose change in his pocket.
Memories jogged and garnered as he walks.
Mister Joe in contemplation, 
washes, rinses and tumble dries, what pops into his head,
in hourly cycles, with riddles, jingles and...

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As you sit down for your tea, take a moment to think of me
I am the one who leaves the quay, to bring home harvest from the sea
Lobster pot and fishing creel, Dover sole and...

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I remember the day when comments were the main
They're all very instrumental to the Soup's mainframe
Some comments are influential that created other writes
And many were like tuition that kept us crisp and bright

But there now...

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Is there a place in heaven
Where old deckies muster
A sheltered safe haven away
From any wild storm's bluster
From sail to steam to diesel
United one and all
By the harvesting of the sea 
And the handling of the...

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Life atop Death
             by Odin Roark

A fishing trawl freckled by rust
Decaying by salt air and sun
Washed aground many decades past
Still holding to life

Like...

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Two metres apart
Is where we start
Then self-isolate
Before it’s too late
Wash your hands
Else virus expands
Using PPE
Helps safety
Society shut
We all stay put
Food shops empty
Used to be plenty
No supermarket trawl
Just Internet haul
But what of the old
Whose lives now...

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"User name" and "password"
That's all you need to know.
Type them in , press "enter"
Then you’re  fine to go.

Sounds quite simple really,
Till your memory starts to wane,
You trawl the deepest caverns
Of your tired and aging...

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Poetrysoup

It happened quite accidentally
As if by chance, this anomaly
I did not know how it could be
That here is where I’d post my poetry

A poem I had written today
Remembering World War One Day
I’d written what I’d...

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Conflicts of evil
Our soldiers fall
Fathers and sons
Families trawl
 
Their emotions for life
After the fact
Their loved ones
Taken in patriot act
 
Flown home with the flag
Decoration of mourn
Where today they have passed
Colleagues torn
 
Here today
In-turned tomorrow
Hero's them...

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What crashes into them
is the oceans voice beheaded.

Seabirds skim upon verge and crest,
a green swell of rise and fall.

Open mouths trawl the air
then plunge into a rising wave
to scoop a thrashing fin
that dangles now
between life...

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