Long Undersea Poems
Long Undersea Poems. Below are the most popular long Undersea by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Undersea poems by poem length and keyword.
(Rhyming Haiku)
Whenever I view
I jot each line heart pursue
Yet plead muse too blue
Whenever I saw
I am fine if it is raw
Yet mix lines muse draw
Whenever I get
I love timing an art duet
Yet both rarely vet
Whenever I fix
I do such of rules that mix
Yet both brings conflicts
Whenever I bow
I bid grace of sins avow
Yet life disallow
Whenever I can
I bask being an earthly fan
Yet wish flesh be ban
Whenever I see
I wish flesh be drown in sea
Yet swims undersea
Whenever I call
I feed service like a thrall
Yet quests don't install
Whenever I cry
I see reason not to try
Yet I dream to fly
Whenever I sing
I hope my voice wins Eon's King
Yet my lyrics sting
Whenever I pray
I decree of divine sleigh
Yet its race delay
Nowadays I view
The change in lines heart pursue
How money comes new
Nowadays I saw
The change in thoughts I couth raw
How progress won't flaw
Nowadays I get
The change that balance dream's duet
How time flies cum debt
Nowadays I fix
The changed rose and violet mix
How future predicts!
Nowadays I bow
The changed call nature avow
How circumstance plough!
Nowadays I can
Change the night, Arsenal fan
How Arteta span!
Nowadays I see
The change in season and sea
How good is referee!
Nowadays I call
The change a long waiting thrall
How freedom treats all!
Nowadays I cry
The change that waited my try
How staying paints bye!
Nowadays I sing
The change running London's King
How lovely is spring!
Nowadays I pray
The changed wheels of gunners sleigh
How to bring hooray!
On ocean bowride below gentle titans peep
ghost ships of the Pacific hunt and chase -
where great barnacled seafarers of the deep
beneath the waves its blue waters grace.
Old sea tales of killing lance and spear tip
tell of the dying struggle of the flurry -
once more mighty hulks of beast and ship
haunt the dark shadows of the undersea.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Far and yon an old boneyard whaling station
fluking bulls and cows circle the perilled pod,
and breach and dive in fabled echolocation
the bones of Ahab and wreck of the Pequod.
Still ghost ships old hunting grounds scout
that mystic echo whalesong far reaching,
and still cavernous mouths unmade to shout
trap by moon and tide on remote beaching.
Let no harpoon pierce your skin,
no flense cut and slice,
not body or fin.
Let no kill sound its death throes,
and may long
live the shout of “thar she blows!”
Written: July 1992
I remember the land of drums I was born
bedded beneath great hanging nets;
the sound of the conch and the horn.
My blue suitcase filled with stuff,
the red tricycle and pedal car
that made me race and made me puff.
I remember the hounds of revolution nightly howl
on the streets of my island home.
Now I reign afar in the land of my exile
as might a king given up his throne
I remember my first day of school so bleak,
a gingerbread house on Picton Street
where I first kissed a sweetheart cheek.
Hearken tales of men in Sherwood,
Nelly Stone in her rocking chair
reading The Adventures of Robin Hood.
The loud guttural yard turkeys’ gobble and flap,
and kids singing their songs of joy.
I remember the year, the girl, the songs
in all its virtue when I was a boy
I remember the front yard we would play
and the annex rooms we called home
watching The Riki Tiki Show at 17 Gray.
Waving at the Queen’s royal parade
down on Saint Clair Avenue
in the crowds following her motorcade.
I remember huddled around the old valve radio,
long siestas in the hot afternoon
till late beneath a corner streetlight halo
raving drunk slumped Blue Moon
I remember sticky chewy peanut brittle
with my cold Nestle chocolate milk
while gorging my tummy little by little.
Behold down-de-islands dashing
in a pirogue out on Grand Fond Bay -
the sea spray across the bow crashing.
Watching as darkness fell on high moon and tide
shining on bay and jetty so bright,
when as young eyes grew weary I would
rest at peace all through the night
I remember all dressed for Sunday School
and afternoons at the Country Club
splashing around in the swimming pool.
And at sea playing captain and sailor
on board a ship Panama bound
in my cabin with my toy boat and trailer.
I remember the ports and voyage of no return
into the yonder crossing the equator,
when old Neptune rose from the undersea
to bless our ship and navigate her
Written: September 1990
Eyes they speak truth
In the dungeon deep
Shackled and chained,
caged by you
Hell of a making
Judged not worthy
Imprisoned alone
Here I saw the light,
in silver strands
Written on the walls
My answer
Weeping willow
A past nightmare,
casting shadows
Water in darkness draped
Thrown in hell
Silently to the wayside
A bitter blow,
the stomach curled
In its silent scream
Drooped heavy
Inside pain
Dragging myself
To the crossroads,
dagger of truth
In a bolt of lightning
You shot me down
The eyes told me a story
Popping out
from your face,
inner skeleton spoke
Upon the mirror
The heart
did not lie
Written all over
Your bare face lie
Ending became ice to me,
the titanic sunk
Ending dreams
Words hold no truth
In the foul deed,
caught like a kipper
In the net
ending love
Without heart
Attacked feelings
Falling into an undersea current,
swallowed truth
Words spoken
untrue
My end
The sea is aglow with her memories
Seaweed meadows of deep cave treasuries
Stories that summon the lost and curious
Legends embossed in silent reveries
She drifts the illumined waves of her home
Wide blue realms in which she may roam
Her spirit alive beyond undersea depths
In echoes of songs over silver - green foam.
What is it - what does the mermaid know?
Beyond the clouds and winds that blow
That she is woman and nature combined
Her secrets sleep in the ocean below.
Rubaiyat
Rubyiat Contest
Sotto Poet
I wrote this one for the contest 'Mermaids'
that I sponsored. The goal was to capture the essence
of a mermaid. There were many wonderful mermaid poems.
Enter your own competition
Contest Judged: 9/24/2017 5:05:00 PM
Sponsored by: Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
2nd Place
101 in a ROW contest -7
Contest Judged: 7/27/2016 9:30:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
6th. Place
Below earth, streams release the arteries
of the undersea teeming with precious
abalone, granite and shells,
as a roulette of lotus defies gravity
soaking on the chlorine of a wind
only piles of sand can bestow…
and gentle the wavelets murmuring
hymns of serenity , somewhat delicate
as ocean mouth is to fish lips in the moist pulse
of swelling spaces for wooden fleets
to beckon the blue.
Like so, guardian of water observes the cruise
of a ship rustling a masthead…
intrusive vessels are aliens
to the underworld: greedy eyes, black hands
that rake mothers of pearl and babes of dolphins.
Fierce dugongs roll along, shaking the basement
of hunters’ boats on inlets
to pound doors of Neptune’s bed,
reflecting mirrors of an island scented
with coconut and tresses of women
bathing along coasts of such innocent gulfs.
Below earth, a divide between friends and foes
is honored; that beyond words,
a sea keeper rises to acknowledge
the kindness of strangers,
if they are kind enough to respect the gift of privacy.
10/2/2015
Chase Trevi's Contest:
Open Sea - Sailing, Creatures, Treasures
The Voice of the Woman
I speak with clarity of mind and heart: Cursed is the woman with a voice.
Silence is golden. Respect the man, keep quiet be seen. So I have been told all my life.
Later, everything changes. And those that said "keep silent" now ask "Why didn't you speak up, I was here."
In a woman's world, silence means death. Spiritual and physical. "Know thy place! How dare you use your voice where men of high standing, and women who agree seat!? "
Silence is the ocean of the unsaid, the unspeakable, the repressed, the erased, the unheard. It surrounds the scattered islands made up of those allowed to speak and of what can be said and who listens.
When we women offer our experience as our truth, as human truth, all the maps change. There are new mountains.
The new voices that are undersea volcanoes erupt in what was mistaken for open water, and new islands are born; it’s a furious business and a startling one. The world changes. Silence is what allows people to suffer without recourse, what allows hypocrisies and lies to grow and flourish, crimes to go unpunished.
Oh,cursed is the woman with a voice! Because in her silence, generations have no light. Speak young girl,speak! Speak the wisdom that lies in the bosom of who's freshness of mind is still with the birth cord from the maker.
When you speak,evil despairs. When you speak, discomfort arises and the earth shifts.And what was not to be, erupts with magma of new life. Tell us your story! Live and let live.
Speak! And let her speak!
Her voice is change!
©Olive The Geek
Oct 2022
argh
the wooden pirate
with a real leg
‘pon his left shoulder
not a parrot but a peg
argh
his ship inverted
sailed ‘neath the wave
and in his treasure chest
was a craggy cave
argh
he roared with rum
empty barrels were full
his flag was white
black bones and skull
argh
the flag though ripped
caught on his hook
but not for a hand
‘twas ‘stead of a foot
argh
he roamed the undersea
looking for loot
but oh all the bubbles
from a whale in a boot
argh
the old salt
was seawardly feared
for everyone knew
and heard of Woodbeard
argh
the submariner pirate
of raid and of plunder
sprang up on those
and pulled them all under
They are the chariots of mermaids, the undersea calliopes
They grace the waves with their ballet
They are the turquoise flash within the spray
They are the steeds of Poseidon, the dreams of faeries
They are the fantasy Camelot carries
They are the coral's escaping sway
They are the treasure chest's display
They are the jewels of Amphitrite
The diluted rainbow tracks their courses
Through brambles sandy and seaweed fine
The blackness brightens in alabaster forces
With water sprite's gold of ubiquitous mines
Gossamer silkies ride these horses-
The silver of silent hooves shine divine!
Favorite Carolyn Devonshire Poem
History Rising from the Sea
Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth century artifact
By ancestors hewn
Earth's history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions
Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones,
To greet early beachcombers
History on loan
Memories of bygone ages
Scattered on the sand
Finally kissed by sun again
While in a searcher's hand
I pursue this morning trek
With Atlantis on my mind
Seeking proof at last
In treasures I might find
When ancient civilations
Seem to disappear
Comb the beach, you might find
The evidence is here
For from a phoenix rising
New finds appear each day
And I'll not stop searching
Till doubts I can allay
Caroline and I shared of love of water - she the ocean and I lakes and Puget Sound. Her poems flow like tides - effortlessly - with bits of wisdom scattered like treasures of seashells or driftwood found on the beach. This poem speaks of our mutual love of beachcombing for treasures and the pondering of history brought to mind by life's flotsam.
The poem below represents my tribute to Carolyn.
Girl on a Dolphin
Stargazing ocean pixie
Rides the playful weathered waves
To surf the ocean tides
With laughing dolphins
Leaps to catch Delphinus
Starfarer in a star bound chrysalis
To ride this five star celestial constellation
On heaven sent lapis astral waters
Wearing moonstones like Apollo’s poetry
Where starry Aquila flies to Lyra’s music.
Salt spattered waves only gaze
At a girl – eternal sea sprite –
That sits atop a stellar dolphin
And feels the shell torn loss
Of feet that danced through tidal pools,
Delight and awe surging through her signature,
As time bound day searches midnight legends
To align in twinkling sidereal day –
A quest for remnant memories in verses
Of a star born spirit – girl riding on a dolphin.
For Carolyn
8-19-21
Contest: Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry – Not a Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
The constellation Delphinus is made up of five stars and can be seen between the constellations of Aquila, the Eagle, and Lyra, the Lyre. It is named for two Greek legends based on dolphins one of which tells of Apollo setting a dolphin in the sky in gratitude for saving the Greek poet Arion. Apollo is the god of music and poetry.