Sailing Boat Poems | Examples

Time

Time flows 
Sometimes slow
Sometimes fast.

Do you believe that?
Time flows regularly.
Like the pendulum 
Of a perfectly aligned
Old Large 19th Century 
Mahogany 8 Day Arch Dial 
Longcase Grandfather Clock.
Yet time is relative.

If you are happy
It seems to go fast
Like a sailing boat 
With winds that blows and drives
All sailing boats.

If you are sad then 
No wind blows.
The boat is stuck nowhere
In mid ocean
And worry erupts.


a poor scribble

SAILING SENEGAL

If Senegal were a sailing boat
With masts new and strong
Ready to part the seas of Casamance
Gliding through waves in a trance.

It would set its course eastwards
Through the deep waters of Sandougou
Riding on a history so vibrant
Full of potent dreams and a future so bold.

If Senegal were a sailing boat
With the heart of a brave pirate
It would always sail to the shores of peace
Where hope greets and dreams meet.

Sailing Boat

L
on sail
never
enters the
Breaker zone
o   |             \
a   |               \
The tranquil sea surface ripples
   the boat dances delighted
       away from the shore
           destination far
~~~’’’~~~~’’’’~~~’’’’~~~~~’’~~’’’~~
~~~~~’’’~~~~’’’’~~~~’’’~~~~’’’’~~~

Cloud

Thou airy ship, thou whitish mist! 
Thou float on ocean and the dale
Thou art a painting by my Lord! 
A painting which is not for sale

Thou sooth the hearts of all on earth
Thou heaths and meadows irrigate
Thy castle is in airy field
From earth and heaven isolate
 
O sailing boat, o shroud of earth 
Thou child of sky and forlorn sea
Thou fly with gales soon after birth
O thou that in a wink can flee

Did She Smile

Floating in vacuum,
morphine intravenous supplied,
pain deadened,
she lies dormant, oblivious to all,
thoughts suppressed,
unfeeling and benumbed
in  the emergency cubicle.
 
Her husband holds her hand,
icy, like winter at its worst.
She moans, eyes flutter,
only to fall asleep again.
Anesthetized she finds rest.
Monitors bleep to rhythm,
steady as she goes just like
a sailing boat on rough seas.
 
She will survive.
Husband bewildered.
A human vegetable?
Oh no the expert says.
She will be fine.
The husband dials a number,
talks softly not to disturb.
There will be no divorce,
it's best that they give up
and do not meet again.
 
The woman on the bed groans.
Is that a smile on her lips?

Man Without Convictions

Without convictions, a man resembles

an aimlessly sailing boat, in which both the rudder

and

the anchor is missing! 






© Demetrios Trifiatis
        30 May 2022

Patience

When I hear you say, “have patience,”
I want to tell you about the wheel and the mule -
when both stop, both die a little.

Then there are the sailing boat sails
when the wind stops.
Then there are marbles
when thrown they are lively,
kept in a jar – not so much.

Patience is some kind of virtue that religious people
rage about on Sundays.
I have noticed that they thump that biblical text
like they have zero patience.
I want passion, the way
a bad steak needs ‘A1’ or brown sauce.
Handles are also made
so folks like me can occasionally fly off them.

When the world began
not one molecule of life had one bit of patience,
and we are still figuring out
ways to press that accelerator harder.

Patience

When I hear you say, “have patience,”
I want to tell you about the wheel and the mule -
when both stop, both die a little.

Then there are the sailing boat sails
when the wind stops.
Then there are marbles 
when thrown they are lively,
kept in a jar – not so much.

Patience is some kind of religious,
mature virtue that religious and mature people
rage about on Sundays.
I have noticed that they thump that biblical text
like they have zero patience.

Maybe it’s just me,
but I want passion, the way
a bad steak needs ‘A1’ sauce.
Handles are also made
so, folks like me can occasionally fly off them.

When the world began
not one molecule of life had one bit of patience,
and we are still figuring out
ways to press that accelerator harder.

What Irony - a Real Fisherman's Tale

He wanted to go and catch scallops
gets into a boat called a shallops*
He didn’t look at the time
And had committed a crime
It’s into the court he now gallops

Five thousand pounds he’s now got to pay
A ‘timely’ error on the said day
This ‘scallop advisor’
Just should have been wiser
This fishy story won’t go away!

Poem based rather ironically on a TRUE story in the Manx press today

http://www.manxradio.com/news/isle-of-man-news/scallop-advisor-fined-for-illegal-fishing


*a little poetic licence about his boat but a Shallops is a sailing boat used for coastal fishing

15th January 2018

Fifty Mental Pains of Darkness

fifty hard felt years of unwanted lingering pain 
wiggle there way into my involuntary intellect  
let me not, be standing in troubled waters 
let me be a harbor to my only self 
sailing free and carefree to the 
rocking of my own refugee
not bailing out cloudy, traumatized waters 
from a mental waterlogged
sailing boat of fears and devastation 
i (I) will push back 
as the door of healing someday permit 
but until then 
i (I) will beg the inter mental parts of me
to submit less
to darkness and pain 
and give into small lesser cares 
in a temp to save what 
can be saved 
love self as mush as one can 
and pray, and pray and pray 
because local politic is the new devil

The Mystic

The moon shines brightly in the evening sky,
Bedecked by Venus on her daily ride
Across the constant stream of stars which lie
Outspread on high, as bright across as wide. 

Upon the desert sand there lies a trace
Of caravans meandering along
The silken dunes, along the quiet face
Of drowsy earth, as in a peaceful song. 

A mystic watches falling stars descend
While fantasy delivers him away
From there and then and into stories penned
By shrewd magicians of another day. 

Is he on earth or is he far away,
Where nothing but the zodiac reminds
Him of the mortal shell in which he may
Still dwell for now, where peace its homestead finds?

An hour, a day, a year, a life, how long
Before he can discard his earthly coat
And turn into an angel whose fair song
Accompanies an ever-sailing boat?

Find my poems and published poetry volumes at www.eton-langford.com

The Writer and the Songbird

It’s mellowing around the corners of the moon,
The vision was clearer than the eyes could see;
The breathe was refreshing than the wind could share;
The light was brighter than the sun could give;
And the moments were fairer than life itself.

Alas, the past paste the present;
And the future fears its time.
Long has it been thought about;
And unexpected did it arrive like a sailing boat,
Boarded by the most beautiful but amazing creature.

Fluctuated from year to year depending on the weather pattern,
An impression was made.
I am but a writer with a blowing cup of penny,
And a heart full of roses with beautiful songbirds here and there.
Loren she answered to, wonderful singer she is but broken she was.

I am in love, yes I sure but same emotions she fears to be true.
Call my name and I shall appear,
Smile to my notes and I am yours as you water the notes with your voice.
Remember these moments now, and remember me thus,
For distance is measured in meters but closer it is than you think.

There and back again the writer wrote, as always he will, and the beautiful songbirds sang a new song.

Voyage

Searching for a eternal joy
In a sailing boat 
Adorned with silky flowers
Perfume lingered in the mist 
Music in the heart swayed to the rhythm
snuggled as a kitten
Beaming like the moon light
Kissing the falling dew drops
It was a mirage I craved!

Storm in sudden, cloudy and dark 
Escape was a vain, 
No sail all strained
Cry never reached any ear
Gazing even for a spark of a distance light
Hope and weep in agony
Time and time seized paddles
Broke halfway couldn't fathom
Destiny nowhere!

Seen a floating trunk near and dear
No time wasted seized in fear
Lied on the slippery moss with a weary soul
No aim, no hope, no sigh.
Blowing chilly wind or scorching sun
They matter less, no longer sensed
Still floating in the Ocean
for a sanctuary…

Happy Valentines Day Skinbob Xx

 Four years coming up nigh on,we plodding on strong
                      ploughing through each day together,not alot wrong
                      we know eachother, inside out,also our little ways
                      each and every moment, i want you in my day.

                       We both lead along our differant paths,my soul mate
                        until that day we met, was sheer utter fate.
                        Our lives are just begining,along a happier note
                        no flack no arguements, a plain old sailing boat.

                       I believe fate brought us together,from whatever mess
                       i know i`ll love you to the day i die, you create my happiness.
                       Your caring and happy nature,attracts all positive
                       the negative side you let it drain,forgetting like a sieve.

                       Here`s to the rest of our lives,not forgetting those above
                       so will end your little valentine script and wrap it up with love.

                                        LOVE,PEACE AND HAPPINESS ***

Whisper

Whisper.

Let us whisper you and I 
In a dark little corner and no candle light.

W'll wait until  dawn and watch the sunrise. 
Then catch a gentle breeze or watch a fading star.

We pick some flowers and catch a butterfly

We cross a small stream, sparkling water 
catches the corner of your eyes.

We make a sailing boat from paper then
write a little song.

Soon will be breakfast, then at dinner w'll say a prayer,
And at night time w'll light a fire, and then we retire.

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