Long Tugboat Poems
Long Tugboat Poems. Below are the most popular long Tugboat by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tugboat poems by poem length and keyword.
I Wanna End Me
It’s chill dawg. I’m just a savage. Gotta take that redpill homie. Two squared. Remember the illusion and have a giggle. No need to pout. It’s just a lil fun and games. Haha. Paint me like one of your Trojan horses. Why be sad that I’m returning home soon? Big bad voodoo daddy. Let me know. New Orleans. It’s likely that I’m a sociopath. But what would it matter? Chairs don’t sit, so why would I let the thought do so?
Mcguffins. Pilgrims. Plow rainbow serpentine. Turps. Wax on, doze off. I wanna kiss Billie Eilish. Her dead inside look matches my ensuite. Reckon she’d carry a lot of Bilbo baggage. As do thee unto mishaps. Perhaps. Hmm. Plausible. Ocean endeavours. Funny to think she’s younger than me. Origami. Murmur more peasant.
No board here. Rest easy mudblood. Whichever jumbo cup, always worth the diabeetus. Science, beach. Card master rates, deep down low. Don’t watch on acid. Reads palsy palms. Muster the leap of faith. Sow the famine field of bliss. Certified manga madness. Mango? Two for five dollars. Get like forty of em’. Fiddy bucks. Lez go. Who the hell are ya? I wanna know. Who do you think you are? Coming round here. Fancy pants.
Route 66 roadtwister? I don’t think so mister. Haha. Fly away. Debate the ways of the flying dutchman. Fly over yonder with thou stout in hand. Bound for the beasts riches in tires. Burnt rubber smells so good, not as good as keytamine. Tammy you little dinglebat. Rest easy little nymph. Driftking stands for doorokrats. Laundries. Coin? Denary. Tugboat the infestation. Retribution. Mortify. Grrrrr. That’s a growl. I don’t care. Zoo wee mumma. Throw that little Rat in a tub of acid. That’s nuts.
A sliver of river appears in my view;
The window has served up the slice.
Of course, thought I’d love the whole vista, to me
A sliver is almost as nice.
It gives me a glance of the watery ways
That surround us as we stroll the city.
Our island existence we often forget
As we deal with the gruff and the gritty.
Yet just a short distance away are the waves
Which are churned by each ferry and barge;
And at times, Nature’s wrath rises over the banks
Which reminds us just who is in charge.
The river is calm now, the part I can see;
A tugboat chugs by, trailing foam.
I stare out the window and smile at the thought
That this sliver’s delivered this poem.
Juniper stars give way to Juniper years.
Lions tasting the snowfall we danced like children at play.
Our hope is our father who charted every second of our Juniper lives.
Day dreaming about limitless peace from hope restored.
Open to sunshine and days before my Ana who is my morning sky.
Lazy days spent dreaming of her juniper eyes hazel as my own.
Wild hearts yearning for love and connection.
Yeshua made Ana my best friend the one whom I love to talk with.
Yeshua is also my best friend as I was raised by Theodore Tugboat who taught me we can have many
best friends not just one.
Love restored in my heart by Friendship so real it makes me smile every day.
Kami even if we never officially talk again thank you and Trust in Jesus.
Ana you are the Rose whose name is written on my heart forever.
Glancing down from breathless heights,
Amidst climey sighs,
The looming colossus awakens from slumber
And stretches across Thelwalls linear skies.
The hot engines hissing steam -
Recalled from fond memories long back -
Tumbling like huffing little rain clouds
Down from the lofty metal track;
Wherein brightly painted carriages:
The publicans daughter, the verger,
The magistrate, the chief executive -
Seated first class, all habitually sat.
Swift grandiose arches, a celebration
Trumpeting the artful masons cunning devise,
Boast loudly of the great towers
Parallelogram of terrific forces:
Crossing over in giant leaping strides.
Here below, like Hercules reclining,
The stoic gates of Latchfords black fortress locks
Lift to brace against the immense swell
Far and beyond the chimming remarks
Of Greenhalls absolute, mechanically proven,
Georgian bell;
When, ensconced within a purpose-built,
Purple brick tower:
Strikes the centuries old brewery clock
On the twelfth
Of every God given hour.
A rich bankers cantilever
Pushes doggedly against opposing, sheer,
Red Sandstone walls;
Again the mauve and azure rock pigeon claps...
And then...coo, coo, cooingly calls.
Dry buzzing heat blurs over
The hum of a high noons imcumbent midday;
The coup-de-gras scimitar wing stoops -
To fasten onto its slower-witted prey!
Steeped sides slipping amidst tumbling yellow
Gorse and sporadic flowers
Balk at the foreboding waters edge,
Where, over the denizens swirling bowers,
The resolute little rusting lugger,
Puffing and chugging,
relentlessly dredges and scours;
Churning the murky Eastham silts
That drab Manchester draw:
Into the vast hollowing quays
On beachless, concrete Salfords industrialized,
High-rise dockland shore.
Through the deepest part of the black
Channel
A salt grimed hulk smoothly slips...
Attached by a twisted hemp to the tugboat
That hauls the great ships.
Stirred by the bow waves
Flowing and ebbing like currents in time:
From the trough to the peak
The jettison and flotsam climbs -
Before succumbing to powerful undercurrents
Of irresistible designs!
A warped board on a bench seat
causing discomfort
to an old bum, an aching foot,
a touch of pity all came to keep me
self-sealed inside a bag of skin.
I took no note of the river
almost licking at my feet,
the evening's prayerful quiet,
the sky slowly switching on
its nightly extravaganza of stars.
I was too far into myself
to see past my rim.
One can get lost in a stare,
that blank, formless blur
reflecting the endless distances
stretching across the self.
I was bubbled there.
Then slowly things happened,
a tugboat went past, seagulls
protested my presence,
the smell of river mud
thickened the air.
I stepped out and saw
an old man on a bench seat
who I have long known,
brushed the dandruff
from his shoulders,
helped him up and walked
him home.
The brunette smile withdrew into her dream world,
as goldenrod sun melted away in storm.
The petrichor-scented parasol thus twirled,
aft’ windswept fall of sailor, in uniform,
upon her sand, carried on where lightning hurled.
This seaman-salt, seasoned with charm, keeps her warm.
Fantastical, a mermaid can dream, can’t she?
How unlikely, her tale be true, but could be?
But turns the tide, a sailor is in tugboat,
her flotsam hair gets caught on cutie’s tugline.
She’s wiled him, but her song gets snared in her throat.
Sea water’s foaming; her tail’s thrashing at spine.
Her wild world’s drenched. She needs a dreamboat-raincoat.
Comes back to earth, sits he, on blanket with wine.
Fantastical, a mermaid can dream, can’t she?
How unlikely, her tale be true, but could be?
I see darkness; coldness; an abyss. I feel cold; lonely; and fear. I know not of how I am able to change my current course in the sea of indifference. My oars are but a shell of the person I used to be. My boat is a hollowed out soul. The fear I feel is irrational, but it’s my truth. My anchor is the pain of my anguished self. The water I float on is the tears that I can’t cry and hold within. My destination is unknown but not worth the trip. My navigation equipment is the smile of yours that I will never be able to obtain.
Does the course make the person or does the person make the course? Will we ever know until we get there? Is the pain of life worth the trip? When does one know when the trip is even over? When we die? Is it before our death? Is it after our death? Does it even matter? Why do we make impossible plans for our future, when our present needs the most tending? How can I allow one person dictate how I choose to course my voyage? Not anymore.
I tried to hold on to you with whatever strength I had. I don’t have the strength any longer. Now you are nothing more than debris in the river I am forging. Your opinion is like a drop of water in the midst of the ocean I have taken my voyage on. The tides are lower everyday because I no longer cry over you. There is nothing left for me to do, but to ride on my present course, and to find my true inner self. My course has been changed. My navigation set anew. Now my course shall be whatever I choose. No longer will it be what I think you would have me choose. Never again, will you be my tugboat. I am my own ship now!
A tugboat needs a river;
A sailboat needs a sail.
In order to deliver,
A mailman needs some mail.
A baker needs an oven;
A bicycle needs wheels
And pets require lovin’
And a place to sleep and meals.
Plants need sun and water;
Children need fresh air.
Every son and daughter
Needs a mom or dad to care.
Feet need shoes or sandals;
Stores need lots of stuff.
Birthday cakes need candles;
Just to wish is not enough.
Schools require teachers
And kids who want to learn.
Movies showing features
Need their patrons to return.
I’d go on forever
If inclined to take the time
For I’ll jump at each endeavor
Which requires a little rhyme.
Oh, what a beautiful tree
With glistening leaves
I wonder if it has fruit
That will cause me to believe
...again
Wow! What a tall building
It ascends into the sky
I wonder if it contains answers
That will tell my why information flies
...upward
What on earth is that
What is that thing man is building
Claiming water is coming
To the object his GOD is gilding
...outside the box
It looks like a tree on the surface
With branches and roots running deep and wide
But it looks like a building
Once you take the courage to step inside
...to learn
The structure is invisible to sight
But the sighted choose to be blind
They rail on and on, boasting of freedom
While setting bound in a double bind
...of methodology
What River of Life can float
A tugboat made for launching liners
Into an Ocean of the abyss
Where patterned patrons worship diviners
...of magic
Systems, Systems, ever climbing systems
Of powerful knowledge, how can puppets resist 'em
I wonder if silencing the five senses
Will fit us with lenses
...to KNOW
Truth
Written by Trudy Schrader on 02-15-2019
She was born in 1894 as Minerva Holzer,
and made her mark as a radio and stage performer.
Her name “Urecal” came from Eureka, California.
Eventually, she made appearances in cinema.
Minerva’s many acting parts were splendid.
Most of her supporting roles were not credited.
In the fifties, she made appearances on television.
Viewers knew her as “mother” on “Peter Gunn”.
In 1957, she made a presence on Canadian TV.
Her only starring role came as “Tugboat Annie”.
Minerva was quite a fine actress in her day.
Sadly, in 1966, she passed away.
I thank both umdb.com and wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.