Short Fishing Boat Poems
Short Fishing Boat Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Fishing Boat by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Fishing Boat by length and keyword.
Cool foggy morning
in the watery stillness
a fishing boat glides
disappears in the thickness
its holds bare for no fish swim
Old battered vessel,
Waves crash but it sails onward,
Seas can't break its will,
With stories in every scar,
Enduring, it braves the storm.
Old boat, time-worn path,
Dolphins glide through emerald waves,
Leaping side by side—
Their joyous dance in the mist,
Paints the sea with morning bliss.
They came out of the storm in a fishing boat
A bear, elk, jokester monkey, pig and goat.
There was a push and goat went under the water.
Sorry! Yelled the elk, but now there’s room for my daughter.
SKIFF
blue hull
abandoned
in its twilight days
sailing the sea, no more
sadly, left upon the shore
"the fishing boat of an old salt"
June 6, 2022
Pyramids Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
Image #1
Fire on still water cradled by tall trees
A picturesque photograph pulling one to ease,
Dusky pink sky with spirit overseeing
Mother natures nurturance and changes in her being.
Yellow neon light patterns dominate
Gazing his creation evidently great,
The stretching sun unravels an image grand to gloat
And underneath mere man-made a modest fishing boat!
Went on a fishing boat
Caught three fish
Bested my friends who
caught nothing
The day passed in a
kind of haze
Didn't even drink a beer!
but was happy with my 2 flounders and one striped bass
My fish were tossed back into the water
So they could go on
with their aquatic lives
Answer the call of the ocean! For in it lies the secret to life!
Should be more words to describe it;
black as tar on a pebble beach
Under a fishing boat that smells
of seaweed and saltwood,
Or something spoiled by lights epileptic,
shadow of shadows
that drip like failing day.
A half,cool with slate and silence;
less to see,more to feel.
The river runs wild
An orphan child
Bottom rock tile
Through each mile
Trees along the bank
To hide and play a prank
Fishing boat cranked
To life here’s our thanks
Mud in between toes
Dirty stained clothes
Bait the fishing poles
Fun, fun, fun
Dry off in the sun
Its dark night has come
The river runs calm
Smoothing lip balm
Cool sweaty palms
Nice sweet mom
Time to go home
Sit down read a poem!
Form:
My World
Pink...
A sweet color that brings memories,
roses, babies, grandma’s house and being safe.
New, and awake to the world…
Blue...
A bountiful adventurous hue,
oceans, skies, grandpa’s fishing boat.
Alive, heroic and ready…
White...
Promise, dawn, and humility…
Seen. (long watchful silence)
Seldom pressing,
but all-encompassing.
Together, combining all brightness.
A wedding, a christening, a birth,
a…resurrection!
The river is smooth, quiet, and serene.
Our fishing boat is at one with the flow.
Years from now I'll remember this scene
And wish it were like the life I would know.
But that isn't the nature of this estate.
Boulders may bludgeon at every turn.
Debilitating illness may strike early or late.
Rough water tells me I am here to learn.
Problems then are mortality's tool
To form and fashion the person to be.
They take us to the hard-knocks school
To prepare us for life's squally sea.