Mainsail Poems | Examples

Free From the Killick

I'm not a seafarer, but took a risk and dove right in,
as if from cliff height and wound up floundering
in the dark abysmal depths of a roiling ocean.
From pages of 'The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,'
I wore the feathered omen draped around my shoulders.
When a marriage ends, the mast is cracked, mainsail tattered.
The bottle was his failing; but the burden was mine.
His raging storm was a whirlpool of self-loathing.
Certain to drown if I lingered with him much longer,
I was in need of a way out of my wretched life.

Frowns were etched into my brow from doleful despair,
as we sailed beneath stormy skies on a battered ship.
My cries were much louder than the roar of the ocean,
but he didn't seem to care whether he lived or died.
I desperately fought to keep him tethered to my side
but he was the killick that kept dragging me down.
I couldn't save us both, broke free from the chain,
and watched Coleridge's boa floating in the flotsam.
I stood on the beach, searching each crested wave 
but when the tide ebbed, I walked away.

Lonely Lighthouses

Eyes of light beams pierce ocean air
as Neptune rests within his lair.
Sentinels hand-made of stone,
that keepers used to call their home;
guide travelers, sailors on their way
a lovely sight both night and day.

Though today they’re automatic,
once someone ascended to their attic;
to turn on the light and keep it oiled
so harbor and bay had no wrecked spoils.
One’s orientation was not lost,
though about the seas ships were tossed.

For the Lubber’s lines worked their magic,
in preventing any shipwrecks, tragic.
Rough navigation the lighthouse soothed,
making for a landing smooth;
ships reached port abandoning fears,
when to the lighthouse they drew near.

So thank the gracious hand that built them,
for your cruise won’t end up grim.
Hoist that mainsail with great joy,
as light to night seas they employ.
These lonely specters in tribute stand
towering testaments to ingenuity of man.

Cruise To Alaska

The trip was a riot of color,
It brings a myriad of queries,
Fantastic tales of utter darkness,
Views' visible roots were explored. 

Mainsail surges,
pungent froth carried wave tips while,
blast swings moaning openly.

superb mountains,
Convey streams into streaming rivers,
Down slants shrouded in woods.

And the majesty of the stars,
Is confronted every morning,
Under soft white clouds,
is with each foot I set down.

I relish the quiet of the sound,
how each slant embraces,
the still raw bay.

Home to unglaciated cervids,
Gnawing animals and polar bears,
Willow grouse, deer,
Also, the renowned Chinook Salmon.

More genuine than the Arctic flow,
Afar-off state refuted,
In both word and deed,
Anyhow of these ever tender wishes.

Atop mottled strands,
I let my emotions air dry,
Orange tulips were selected,
I regained faith; I can fly.

5Th Place Contest Winner

Written: June 18, 2022

2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 3 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney

Windjammer

We meandered along the cays in June
Our blistered feet untoughened, 
White with ooze and sand
Caring the least for nothing
Save taut sail and steady breeze
And good news from home.
Cap steered as rudder let
The clipper sensed his notion
While the mainsail bloomed above us
And billows tossed the ocean, 
We thought of dusk and port
And good news from home.
When our vessel slapped the shore
We went in search of life and laughter
And found our legs again, 
A time for jollying after
We talked of days ahead
And good news from home.

FIRST PLACE WINNER
Entered in "All Yours" Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand

Transitional Poetry

What gets possibly gained from poetic encounters?
A friendship sets sail though mast’s shadows can’t merge
more than sheets in the wind that two sailors might set in defiance
of oceans, whose trembling waves surf on their opposite shores?

Is it likely ship’s rhythm survives breeze filled waters,
a leaning, you recognize, says what to purge?
You still trust in a star group long past, hope to save an alliance,
you first learned to steer by at night (who trusts sea semaphores)?

Does a ship dare (becalmed) think a storm’s not in offing
or trust if one comes she might make up lost ground?
Winds that rhyme (fill day’s mainsail) may find night time’s whale songs good omen
while night skies can frustrate all reason when stars don’t appear.

A day’s poem’s safe harbor does not lead to scoffing,
in each one’s fond glance, a glad memory found.
A fair hint you admire how it says what it says makes you yeoman,
at least, free or slave, kith or kin. My strong arm holds you dear!


Brian Johnston
28th of December in 2020

A Close Reach

Raising thoughts and emotion,
the mainsail was set

Heading into the wind
of tomorrow unmet

All stays are in place,
with tiller held fast

Reaching for glory
—the doldrums have passed

(Hereford Inlet: November, 2020)

Sail To a Deal

Britain sets sail to find a deal.
A lengthy voyage now starts.
The captain plots the way ahead
with complex EU charts
from the Maritime Directive
in all its ninety parts.

Oh what a frightful sea to sail
to reach the land called Brexit Deal.

They cast off in a steady breeze;
the crew are well rehearsed.
But soon a storm is getting up
and brings a mighty gust.
The mainsail now has been ripped free
and flaps around the mast.

Oh what a frightful sea to sail
to reach the land called Brexit Deal.

And then with further buffeting 
the rudder starts to fail.
A calm follows; they do repairs.
Now fixed they can set sail.
The ship and crew ready to go
but now stuck in a lull.

Oh what a frightful sea to sail
to reach the land called Brexit Deal.

Next day there comes a steady breeze
which clears them from doldrums.
And now they start to speed along
as then a trade wind comes.
With these changes the captain must
recalculate the sums. 

Oh what a frightful sea to sail
to reach the land called Brexit Deal.

The Mighty Frigate

Let us make ready and set sail
This mighty frigate will prevail
We will see what we will see
Mother Sea is calling me

The Mainsail, Lanteen and Jib are set
First Mate, Boatswain and crew are the best yet
Captain is on the Bridge planning our bearing for today
Orders all hands on deck, prepare to wake way

Anchors aweigh, the harbor is behind and the wind is at our stern
Frigate Constellation is swift and powerful the crew will soon learn
First Mate is at the sextant, compass and bell
"Ahoy Mates!" the wind fills our sails, all is well

Waves crash our bow, course set straight as the crow flies
Over Davey Jones's Locker where sea mysteries lie
Captain is confident, we will see what we will see
I will sail this ship, Mother Sea is calling me

Chattering

Sails flick while chattering
To the wind deciding
How to best throw itself 
Into its arms.

Port rocks to starboard 
And back again
While I'm throwing my insides
Over the rail into the sea.

Mainsail catches and off we go
Pushed along by nothing
Except the breath of the sea
My stomach as a sacrifice.

The water decides most things 
And today to swell and fall
Bucking like a horse.

It's just the risk you take
When you let her be herself.

Canons,Blunderbusses and Dragons

Hoist
the Jolly Roger
atop the mainsail
we're heading
for Bermuda
with the wind
on our tail.

There Are No Clouds

Cast off the mooring ropes at bow and stern
Head out into the early morning mist
Hoist the big mainsail, free the jib, and turn
Feeling the filling canvas make her list

The venerable diesel chugs and splutters
Its smoky wraith lingering in our wake
We weave our way between sloops and cutters
Cleaving across crests beginning to break

Waves slap the hull and slither down the deck
We've left the strident seagulls far behind
The lighthouse beam pales as we pass the wreck
Whose rusting iron ribs still groan and grind

We round the point and catch the tidal flow
Astern, a fresh Force 4 lends us its wings
No engine needed now.  I go below
And listen to the sounds that silence brings

An inner peace surfaces in this calm
Quietly floating all one’s stress away
Silence with stillness - a heavenly balm
That heals the damage of each crazy day

I go up top and breathe in salty air
Now, far away from the jostling crowds
I adjust my eyes to the sun’s bright glare
And scan the horizon - there are no clouds

Earth and Fire In a Splash

My love on the surf
I can’t stop the wave
Of two hearts in a crush
Earth and fire in a splash

Sunset in her eyes
Sparkling love rays
In the arms of a sea breeze
Blowing her wildest dreams

The beach is a towel
Dry passion our smile
Wet hair rides the spark
Of wet lips in the dark

Diving like a submarine
Lightning sparks the horizon
Dazzling a silky moon dance
Summer rain in a glance

Hearts on love’s turf
Dressed in a crashing wave
The sea is dyed red
In the mainsail we’ve fled

My love on the surf
I can’t stop the wave
Of two hearts in a crush
Earth and fire in a splash

Voyage Into the Mirror

When I saw Richard last
Sailing the Winds of Change
His mainsail unfluraled by Whisper
With a Siren's song in range

The melody sweet like wine
Of love's long lost refrain
While the Saint danced upon the rigging
His face full of Neptune's Reign

A voyage is filled with peril
Each league and nautical mile
A journey of self discovery
Etched upon a dolphin's smile

The voyage nears it's destination
The vessel hull splintered wood
A question posed unanswered
Did he do all he could?

Free Cee a Dull Gull

A DULL GULL

So many people are intrepid sailors
I am but a sinking ship
Other people sale safely through stormy weather
As I watch my mainsail rip

So many sailors have such sturdy masts
Caressed by canvas and the wind’s tender kiss
I see them sail by with confidence aptly displayed
While my boat buckles and everything goes amiss

So many people head the helm toward paradise
A place were they throw anchor and shed the rancor of that blessed day
I see them standing tall at the wheel with pride as their guide
While I lack foresight and seem to do everything in a second best way

There are people who are intrepid sailors
As opposed to me who travels with an unholy hull
These people sail on while cutting through the wind like eagles
Alas, I am but a battered and grounded gull
© 2012…...PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

Free Cee a Dull Gull

A DULL GULL

So many people are intrepid sailors
I am but a sinking ship
Other people sale safely through stormy weather
As I watch my mainsail rip

So many sailors have such sturdy masts
Caressed by canvas and the wind’s tender kiss
I see them sail by with confidence aptly displayed
While my boat buckles and everything goes amiss

So many people head the helm toward paradise
A place were they throw anchor and shed the rancor of that blessed day
I see them standing tall at the wheel with pride as their guide
While I lack foresight and seem to do everything in a second best way

There are people who are intrepid sailors
As opposed to me who travels with an unholy hull
These people sail on while cutting through the wind like eagles
Alas, I am but a battered and grounded gull
© 2012…...PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~

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