Rhyme Sea Poems | Examples
These Rhyme Sea poems are examples of Sea poems about Rhyme. These are the best examples of Sea Rhyme poems written by international poets.
We sailed the Seven Seas,
Beneath a sea of stars.
Upon an astral breeze,
A sailing ship to Mars.
Our cosmic Captain quipped,
We're heading for the stars!
The Milky Way was dipped,
In creamy chocolate bars.
The Captain earned his wings,
The crew had earned their scars.
We sailed thru Saturn's rings,
And hitched a ride to Mars.
Too drunk to find our way,
Left Pluto in the bar.
We found the keys on Ray,
Where did he park the star?
This sailor loves his Bali hook
I know the aches and pains it took
I flashed the mirror for a check
I found a treasure round my neck
So let me thank you for this gift
You gave my humble heart a lift
I crave the sand between my toes
In Bali where the sunset goes
My review sent to Bali for my hand carved necklace.
The hook represents a love and connection to the sea.
Each necklace sold helps save the Coral Triangle.
How cool is that?
My heart's at half-mast for dear Molly McGee
Who was drawn and quartered and buried at sea
They thought her a temptress, known only to me
Convicted of mischief and skulduggery
So, I dropped to my knees and prayed to the Lord
Tho, devout as I was, my prayers were ignored
I bowed to the Captain, I begged and implored
But watched my dear Molly, get dumped overboard
Then I shouted her name and jumped in the sea
And followed the body of Molly McGee
Two lovers united, where hearts can be free
Our souls are now mingled, my Molly and me
It was decided that I’m bad
Thank you, Mr. Universe
So I’m socially dead
Therefore, not much coerced
Little less involved in business
Of the common cause I share
With the Mrs. Universe
She can spot me everywhere
I can’t comment, I can’t post
Cause I’ve been a bit too active
Maybe felt a bit too lost
Could’ve been over-perceptive
Maybe deemed as self-indulgent
So they bothered to reply
Laid on me the hardest judgement
Though it didn’t worth a try
Aren’t we equal to ourselves
What we say no one will save
The tide washes up the shells
Each one bears its own wave..
Out of the murky mist
Amidst the mistral winds
The tempest tips the mast
A crippled ship descends
Pain-fated Captain's crew
Rain ravaged by degrees
The cox would steer the crow
Below the savage seas
To dare the darkened depth
Untethered fathoms feared
As harkened angels wept
A weathered wraith appeared
To cast the mastless craft
Amidst the rocky realm
The staff, now pointed aft
While the cox, held the helm
New Captain's crew was calmed
By current, ruby red
A salty sea embalmed
The sunken, drunken, dead
An albatross had mourned
Poseidon's wounded pride
Thrust-trusted trident scorned
Calypso raised the tide
Grey-green waves are crashing;
Cold south winds whip through the twisted coastal tea-trees—
foam lashing.
Dune grasses sigh;
bare beaches cool under grey skies,
sea high.
Kelp drifts;
tide pulling free—
still.
Grey-green waves are crashing;
bare beaches cool under grey skies,
still.
Where South China waters churn heavy and wide,
A widow rose up with the ocean's own tide.
No emperor’s decree could govern her hand,
She ruled forty thousand across sea and land.
Her laws were of iron, her word absolute—
No plunder unshared, and no thief with his loot.
With hundreds of junks bearing canvas of red,
The empires of Europe beheld her with dread.
The Qing and the Portuguese launched their attack,
Yet her fleet in the bay drove the battle-line back.
She outfought the crown and she outmaneuvered the state,
Till they offered her peace at the emperor's gate.
She surrendered her sails, but retained all her gold,
A pirate supreme who grew peaceful and old.
Though dynasties crumbled and admirals fell,
The terror of Canton lives on in the swell.
In the shadow of the colossal sphere, where ancient echoes sleep,
Vaeloria fades into the dark, a secret it must keep.
The watchers put their scopes away, the screens fade out to grey,
As morning calls the busy streets to meet another day.
No scholar marks the turning tide, no profit in the view,
For men forget the distant stars to chase what is brand new.
They walk through cities built of glass, untroubled, blind, and proud,
Unknowing that the selfsame veil is gathering like a cloud.
The rot that choked the Aethel Sea now crawls along their strand,
An unremembered resonance that slips across the land.
As silent as the giant orb that hid the world before,
The shadow comes to take their home, and lock them in its lore.
Sailing the seas on a lyrical sloop,
visiting pensmen in a metrical loop
with alternating laughs and sighs,
I smile and realize
the sun never sets on PoetrySoup.
In every time zone, in every land,
shining on each seashore's sand,
a seashell or a nautilus
sings to amuse or slaughter us,
from a poet, awake, pen in hand.
Helen's was the face that launched a thousand ships -
so wrote Christopher Marlow
to explain what spurred their haste to take that trip;
but, I would like to ask him though,
this poet and playwright, wise and knowing -
which way were they going?
Nothing happens - it’s good news
In the current Belle Epoque
One more day to be cut loose
Lost in walk and talk
Weather murmurs to be fine
Skies of postcard blue
With the white stripes are designed
Only there’s no you
And no me, apparently
Other people come and go
They are curious to see
The habitual summer show
Narrow passages and lanes
Lead them to the shore
Cause tomorrow there’ll be rains
And gale winds, for sure..
A soul's time on earth is fleeting -
sometimes parting, sometimes greeting
other souls who sometimes touch us,
sometimes less, sometimes as much as
a universe within a single heart,
before these souls must then depart,
making room for other souls.
It's written in creation's scrolls,
but what if souls then turn to stones,
along the seashore instead of bones,
lapped by waves that caress and soothe
till some are beautiful and smooth?
Then might one rock, especially fair,
lie by a gnarled one, a wave set there?
The ship may list, the deck may rise,
And palls may blur the painted skies,
Though deep within the shifting tide,
Your tired, aching steps confide.
The floorboards rock, the timbers groan,
But you have claimed the deep your own.
With parted knees and shoulders bent,
You move in quiet, sweet content.
The rigid stance of coastal streets,
A memory that now retreats;
Instead, you yield to every roll,
Allowing waves to shape your soul.
For when the ocean claims your feet,
The racing pulse begins to beat
In perfect time with foam and spray,
Where gravity is washed away.
So let the vessel dip and dive,
You are the rhythm made alive.
No longer fighting nature’s might,
But walking with the dark and light.
The dreams that are by minnows cast
Cannot engulf the sea;
The splinter from an ancient mast
Cannot become a tree.
But then, the measure of a thing
Is not in what it’s not;
A note by which the world may sing
Is doing what it ought.
Majestic lighthouse you still stand
Foundations deep beneath the sand.
Of granite blocks and tapered tower
Uniquely structures staying power.
At dusk, the keeper walked the stairs
Along the way each window checks.
With watchful eyes, the ocean scanned
The routes for those who crossed he planned.
From dusk to dawn, bright signals send
This light shone through optic lens.
Then through the day this lens was cleaned
So, through the night the lighthouse beamed.
The sailors would on him depend
For them, their lives he would defend.
But modern days have seen decline
And rarely now do keepers climb.
But stories; many could be told
From memories lighthouses hold.
Of battles won and lost at sea
That only keeper’s eyes could see.