Shipyard Poems | Examples

Shade Of The Shipyard

Praying to God is not going to help
She owns the Devil’s Triangle
And she is out there looking for you
If you are unlucky enough to be found
The fires of Hell will not look so bad
As her spirit tears you and your ship apart
Just know that you will never be found
Your souls belong to her
The Shade Of The Shipyard will never let you go

© Poem – XXIV/XXII/MMXXIV
LRET

Ode to Door County

You opened your heart for me
on a Friday evening
after I worked in Green Bay.
My friend who lived near
Milwaukee said you
were the best place
to be in Wisconsin,
the forests
and tourist shops
that lay between
the bay and Lake Michigan.
I glanced to my right and knew
the lake was there
the endless waters and sky
but as I was driving
to Sturgeon Bay
I looked to the clouds
I was calling out to you
to take me on a greater journey
somewhere beyond the stars.
As I turned to go downtown
a bow of a ship appeared
the frame yet to take shape.
I remembered my younger days
spent along the shores
of The Great Lakes.
Patrons at a tourist bar 
near the shipyard 
as the jukebox played
proclaimed your sons and daughters
built the iron vessels
with their study hands—
it was a way of life to them.
The bartender said
explorers and sailors
died in your waters
as I finished my drink.
Streetlights twinkled
as I said goodnight to you
and my tires sang as I drove.
When I turned off the radio
I heard a whisper
the sound of your voice
calling me back.

Waker-Upper

A butterfly, aliferous,
of subtle slights, soniferous,
common spirits, days just went by,
aliferous . . . a butterfly.

Low pinnacles alight sought rest
forgiving sun favors spread best
microscope's trial . . . clinical's
nigh shipyard trash, few binnacles.

A game of chess, castling sleight clouds,
floating iced-pawn, a seaboard crowds,
Queen waves her move, column King, guess,
castling sleight clouds, a game of chess.

A sun descends, dusk purple trend,
birds fly inland, soon be darkened,
crater aglow, twilight ascends
dusk purple trend, a sun descends.

Orange drawn night, few shakes be such,
the moonlight trade, silver isn't much,
tours came and left cause show took flight,
few shakes be such orange drawn night.

Recruitment

RECRUITMENT

Your country needs you lads, let Lord Kitchener tell you more
Come forward, join the ranks and we’ll send you off to war
You’re fighting for salvation; you’ve got Jesus on your side
Remember that in battle; let the shepherd be your guide


Join up with your pals lads and march in time with pride
You’re Ulster Presbyterians, so, the lord with you abide
We’ll muster at the Shipyard so that everyone can see
Then continue to the Farmyards and the local Factory


You’re young, or even younger, than the army will allow
You look a little older since you smoke tobacco now
We’ll put you in a uniform and show you how to drill
We’ll teach you to be brave and then train you how to kill


Say goodbye to your family and prepare to sail away
You’ll fall in on the Western front and join the great affray
Although you may be seventeen, we’ve made you into men
Yet most of you will never see your mothers face again

Philadelphia Experiment

Perhaps a conspiracy, but the crew only knows, the
Happenings aboard the USS Eldridge, kept hushed
In a ship that sailed from sea port to time portals
Leaves a feeling this test was not ready, but rushed
Amid the Atlantic they were meant to disappear
Despite intentions, not only from sight did they vanish
Ever baffled by a green, eerie glow where the ship was
Last, by naval command all of the records were banished
People say they reappeared in the Norfolk Naval shipyard
Heavily disoriented and fused to the steel hull of the deck
In legend they say these sailors fused were alive
And how did they explain this more than a ship wreck

Each crewman survivor, where are they all now
X-rayed and studied in a black ops facility?
Prying minds still trying to make sense of it all
Ever curious, but maybe beyond my ability
Remaining questions with impossible answers
In theory, could there still be witnesses left
Men or woman who saw a war ship materialize
Each in disbelief of their eyes, their logic bereft
Not knowing if it was paranormal or sanity failing
This gave a new definition, to the term parasailing

Miss Uss Missouri

(For more information about U.S.S. Missouri
 visit www.ussmissouri.org/learn-the-history)


About Miss U.S.S. Missouri,
Or affectionately,  "Mighty Mo!"
Second World War surrender documents
Were signed on her in Bay Tokyo.

She was launched from the Naval Shipyard
In Brooklyn in 1944.
Miss Missouri is not the one
Who chose to battle in war.

She was invaluable in 1986
In Operation Earnest Will.
In the 90's she returned to the Middle East
To fight Iraqi targets still.

A protector, a fighter for the Navy,
Like a mother to her brood,
She kept all within her safe and secure
Until their journey would conclude.

In between her missions
She was granted time to rest.
She'd face more action, yet again,
Her frame and strength put to the test...

She could have been transformed
Into a luxury cruise liner.
But she's so much more significant!
A Museum - War Memorial - War survivor!


Written 18th October 2021
For A Noteworthy Ship contest
Sponsor: Robert James Liguori

Waves

Standing on the beach under the blue sky, 
Seeing the waves of the sea are coming towards ,
Wishing to see it from tomorrow onwards,-
But what type of wish, don't know why. 

Ships are passing through making a noise 
But I keep watching it with poise. 
Small heads are being seen in the shipyard, 
While the waves are trying to say few words. 

Now, the time is to return home;
All will reach their destination safely I hope. 
On next day, I will surely come ,
To see the waves, because the view is awesome.

Sailboat Mountain

Percolating from the dream... 
this time its sail boats (three of them)
making their way up a mountain pass
brightly colored sheets swallowed by clouds
that could be mistaken for seagulls..
The incline is nightmarish steep
can't tell if there's anyone at the helms
the pass is soundless-a passage profound.


I can't see what's at the pinnacle 
that's where the percolating stops...
maybe just a shipyard of cracked boats
a pile of rocks that dream in tombstone.
perhaps God kneading a clap of thunder... 
I've been dreaming of mountains lately.
maybe it's time to start climbing.

Processing

Conceal my face. The jagged lines
Cut away an inch- no more.
Uproot the grey and secrete a bed
Of black as night.

Contort my frame
And guard my gait
With bated breath
I sent for flowers
Signed in concealed hands
A name that will not exist

I was twenty feet tall
And the Statue of Liberty
Wilted at her knees as I breezed aside

In a moment
In a mirror
I study
My broken and splintered.
I watch the dance of rot and decay

I am piece by piece
Fighting to recreate
And salvage the shipyard of my
Cast iron will and declarations.
I will live forever.
I will never change. Never age.

I Just Don'T Get English

It is pointless to write with dull pencils
When a pen keeps the sheep safe at night.

And water can flow from a hole in the ground
As long as the spring’s not too tight.

Cargo is sent from a shipyard
But a shipment can go out by car.

A wise man is often superior
But a wise guy is usually subpar

Tonight I will drive down the parkway,
Yet park in the driveway at home.

No wonder I can’t speak this language
It only makes sense in a poem!


© Dean Wood
Oct. 26, 2017

Heartbeats

Thump, thump...thump, thump
Your heart beats with internal impediment
Making each breath a struggle.
I see your pain,  I feel your anguish,
I dearly love your determination to endure.

I can only imagine how difficult it is to
relinquish days of youth when your strength
was the marvel of the men you worked with
side by side...celebrated as the Paul Bunyan 
of the shipyard whose power knew no bounds.

Advancing years have garnered fears of
imminent shadows from the Grim Reaper
inching closer day by day until you can
feel his breath on the nape of your neck.

Past regrets loom before you of missed 
opportunities, and so many things left 
unaccomplished, unattended projects that
act as brutish reminders of failing health.

You think I don't understand the dilemmas 
you face in just getting through another
hellish night of insomnia to sleepwalk 
through another day plagued by doubts of
Time slipping away like a thief in the night.
I want to be here for you...with you. 
Please let me be.

7-26-18

One of a Pair

It was a cold winter day on the Fundy Bay when the wind and the Ocean Raged

You were a child with the sweetest smile who walked through a storm for a mile

Over the frozen sand as I held your hand, we made our way to the land

Up over the banks past the shipyard tanks and a pile of old wooden planks

Homeward bound as the snow fell down and wood shavings blew all around

I held your hand like a grown man the way that your Mother planned

Keeping you warm from the day I was born together we weathered the storm

I was made by a hand, with wool from a lamb, with love knitted in every strand

As soft as a kitten and Oh! So smitten,  I...Just one of pair of mittens.


April 12, 2018
Author:  Elaine Cecelia George

A Living Memory

Two hundred men,
                   a woman and
                           a dog.
A cry from the heart,
                   a petition
                         for a job.
A three-hundred mile march
                   a journey,
                       a trek.
A protest ...in vain,
                 futile,
                 they said.
They were talking to the deaf.
The shipyard stayed closed.
No difference was made.

But still ,with  dignity recalled,

is the Jarrow*crusade.

*1936

Never Again

In between the doubts and tears forms a founded thought…
scribbles on an old shipyard memo pad
tapping the inside of my skull, waking me…even though I don’t sleep,
offering a collection of dots and dashes to interpret

There are times in a man’s life when he knows he is sane…
Following the lines on an unpaved road
Crossing center without moving a muscle
Drinking from the fountain that bleeds rejoice

It is in these moments that he understands…
and removes the stupidity that has clothed him in rags
opens his eyes to what truly makes him happy,
breaks free of those past tense chains that bound him

What mattered does and what didn’t still doesn't…
When thumbing through crooked paragraphs
and finding that the phrases he thought he lost
were dangling from every crumbled page…waiting

Time does move in slug path wanderings…
Sidewalks glisten in zigzag designs 
Drying in the mid day sun as
minutes appear as miniature renditions of the future

And as this time does slowly find me…
I extend my heart in fluttering palpitations of hope
strike the match on promises that I know I can keep
attempting to quell the flames of the past by swearing…never again.

Shipyard

SHIPYARD

 Visions do come to me...
Shades floating to Eternity,
Ships of souls floating away,
People now past their days,
Heavenly light's clear haze,
Leaving gifts for posterity,
Shipyard  of our souls' humanity,
Eternal blessing, never ending,
Ships of souls we're sending
Home, the ships of souls are wending....

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