Long Whalers Poems
Long Whalers Poems. Below are the most popular long Whalers by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Whalers poems by poem length and keyword.
(After Charles Baudelaire)
Many a time, to amuse themselves, the sailors
would trap an albatross, make it a slave.
(These ruffians manned those old-time deep-sea whalers,
resenting, but indented to, the waves).
The moment that an albatross touched deck,
the proud, ungainly prince of lonely skies
had nowhere for his wings. This living wreck,
so recently so regal, was despised.
The deck hands found him funny. Some threw tack
(as missiles, not as food). One held his beak
and, bent astride the noble creature's back,
forced him to smoke a pipe. The bird, too weak
to struggle, took whatever insults came.
His wings, his greatest glory when up there,
now, down among the cretins, were his shame.
He looked down at his burden in despair.
THE EDGES WERE RAVELED
I COULD MAKE OUT THE
AUTHERS SIGNATURE
I MEASURED THE SIZE
AND FOUNDED WHAT
I HAD CAME TO SEE
THE ORGINAL " DUEX dE gRITT"
BY dIZZIE cAULIER GRUMP
I cOULDN'T BELEIVE WHAT WE WERE SEEING
A VISION FROM tRIMPP's " sUCCI"
IT'S A OIL PAINTING OF WHAT THE MAN IN
dRIPPERS " NIGHT IN bRIPPLES bAY"
THE PICUTURE OF THE HIDING WAR THE
cANADAIN gOVERMENT HIDE
FROM IT'S CITEZENS.
THEY SAY IT WAR ALWAY DOWN THE HOLD EASTCOAST.
THE WHALERS FROM THE PACIFIC THOUGHT THEY WERE IN THE PACIFIC
THEY WOKE UP ONE DAY IN THE aTLANTIC
AND STARTED WHALING.
tHE CANADAIN gOVERMENT
FOUND THEM OUT IN THE NORTHWATERS.
tHEY SIGNALED THEM, BUT wHEN THE WHALE SHIP GOT
SPOOKED, THEM hULL-HUSSIES LAUCHED
AN ATTACK ON THE FRIGGETTS.
THE OTHER PIRATES AND FRIGGET ALLIED
AND THEY STARTED AH WARRING.
THEY HIDE THIS FROM US IN SCHOOL.
THEY DON'T TEACH THIS STUFF!
Her placid surface ripples with
undulating, hypnotic waves.
Yet, lost within Her depths' embrace,
lie the bodies of kings and slaves.
Exposing forgotten treasures,
cascading breakers seed the shore.
And hint at what lies still submerged,
deep within Her ebony core.
The Sea's a seductive siren;
luring fishermen and whalers.
And yet, She's far from submissive;
drowning impertinent sailors.
A potent brew of emotions,
is preserved in Her salty brine.
And many crave that elixir;
savoring Her bittersweet wine.
Her beauty lies just out of reach,
yet it's that allure men die for.
And it's said, time synchronizes
with Her tides as they wash ashore.
The Moby Dick Reunion
One hundred fifty nine years have passed
Since Melville published his novel.
Seven hundred twenty pages in length
Some say it was much too nautical.
All of the characters have gathered.
They’re going to have a reunion.
Rumor has it, they say, that Herman himself
Is making a huge revelation.
Ishmael is the first to arrive,
And it’s he who was telling the story.
That’s only right, in the book he survived,
He deserves to get all the glory.
Fedallah and Moby were next in line,
Just in from the Dr. Phil Show.
Their friendship had grown a lot lately.
The harpooner was psychic you know!
When he and Phil studied the big fishes mind,
They found out his reason for anger.
The fact that he was albino
Had burned in his mind like a canker.
Ahab, it seems, was equally mean,
And caused a lot of his stress.
He’d cornered the whale with harpoon boats,
And offered no way for egress.
Moby’s life has been changed forever.
He’s hitched to a really cute killer.
She’s working part time at Sea World,
Seems they needed a sub for their “killer”.
The pub where they met was named Starbucks,
In honor of the owner.
The first mate was rich as a pirate.
He could even afford to buy toner.
Then through the door entered Ahab,
With a prosthesis and brand new pipe.
He finally learned to be happy,
And enjoyed a simpler life.
With him was Herman Melville,
A screenplay under his arm.
One thousand pages he’d written,
About whalers who lived on a farm?
The crew didn’t give their attention.
By now, they were tanked up on rum.
He said he was going to Hollywood,
And if they were smart they would come.
But Ahab and Moby were sobbing.
Tears falling into their mugs.
After all of their trials they found friendship
In the bottom of a jug.
Herman begged them to go make the movie.
But, their lives were happier now.
They all had families to care for,
And no urge for taking a bow.
It seems that while Melville was groveling,
Pip and Ishmael had stolen the play.
They put it in Queequey’s coffin,
And watched it float slowly away.
That was the end of the reunion.
They all went home that night,
Happy with the realization,
That their lives were all just right!
The Whalers
There is a perfect hideaway
Down by the southern shore.
It overlooks the ocean
Where giant breakers roar
Was from this port, in days gone by
The whalers plied their trade
There was no shame in honest toil
How soon some memories fade.
For they supplied the very oil
To light the settlers lamp
Secluded in the lonely bush
And in the diggers camp
The world has changed, and values to
And thoughts have turned around
But do not vilify the men
Who sailed King George’s Sound
They count with pride among the men
Who helped to build this land
Among them were my forefathers
And by them I will stand.
The Whalers of Albany Western Australia
Created this for a blog, but I am unncertain as there's an absence of accountabilty that would assure me of the values that I've delineated, has been ascertained.
I've effected a furtherance exposing other pertinent facts that solidfy this word: Equivocal, having a basic compound valued word, thusly, have more than one meaning.
That became the manna from Heaven, taught to us by those missionaries being one of those subclasses, became a breather/a cutting edge, for the Hawaiian language to accommodate the variable classes besides those missionaries.
Their were whalers who were infamous users of their catch-phrases, Chinese broken-English, a nine-year-old-English, and it goes on.
"How do you say , Hello"--Aloha, "Goodbye"--Aloha, "I love you"--Aloha, "To that guy"--Aloha, "And that girl"--Aloha, "So their sex don't matter"--Oh sex, much Aloha.
Levity, but it does point a true beneficial factor. Chaos needed a directive, simplify matters by conquering their language and dividing it. This was part of my theoretical thesis for my psychology class exam at the Uni.
Last Fall, my church's Scouts and I went hiking.
A few miles north of Big Sur’s coast,
There is a forested park much to our liking.
Point Lobos is the nature preserve that I love most.
The beauty there is supernal, beyond description.
We chose our trails with maps and compasses,
And practiced local plant identification.
I pointed out Monterey Pines and Cypresses.
For a time we climbed a steep inclination.
We looked down into a cove, home of sea otters,
From a viewpoint near the old whalers’ station.
We climbed through a cleft worn down by waters.
That Saturday outing wasn’t a total disaster.
The boys passed tasks to advance in ranks.
Life doesn’t get much better for an old Scoutmaster.
Lastly, to the Great Spirit we all gave thanks.
For Goethe Stanzas contest
Some people think knots are for boy scouts and sailors
Cowboys, hangmen,Anglers and whalers
But knots have many jobs to do
To make this point I'll name a few
turning two heavy ropes into one?
The Carrick bend will get that done.
Do you need a loop at your rope's end?
On the figure eight you can depend.
Are you scaling walls of the steepest pitch?
You'ld be wise to perfect your Munter hitch.
Are you fishing one line, but wishing for two?
The Bimini twist can make that come true.
Please judge your knots by function and form
For if you tie them wrong
Your fish could be lost, Your boat could get tossed
Or your plummet could be mighty long
Here comes the judge contest
That’s what the Ground hogs whistle:
‘hell or high water’
then they put on their old-timey spectacles
and the glasses slip
to the end of their stubby snouts.
The squirrels climb too high
for the lower depths of Hades to reach,
but the hawks are not religious.
Daddy bought the farm
his old lady, the unmarried one,
died also
tugging at his shirt tails.
The waters receded some,
hell closed its barroom doors
to all the better critters.
Only the bottom feeders
were allowed in;
not the whales
they had outgrown heaven
and hell,
the high waters kept them safe
until the oily whalers
came back
to reclaim the low ground.
The roll of the waves hides the arcs of their backs.
The shoal of porpoises are feeding on squid.
Feasting amongst them on cephalopod snacks
Are green-scaled dragons that choose to be hid.
They hide from whalers and their brutal harpoons,
While they stay in the ocean for most of life's times,
Except times when they roam the nearby sand dunes
To covet Marsh Radishes and the wild limes.
These dragons don't fly, since they're aquatic sorts.
Like Nessie in Scotland, they wish to be free.
Some people catch a glimpse, and some hear a snort,
But rarely, since mostly they're way out to sea.