Short Masts Poems

Metallic twisting 
Masts of shimmering light 
Fluidity seen...

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Gilding Grand Marshall
Clouds unfurl billowy masts
Banner serenades
Dreamy floats circle gawkers
Bright ensemble entertains...

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There once was a girl called “Sea Alice”
             She lived on her boat, quite a “palace”
Her beaus never end
When their masts seem to bend
                   The ladies feel nothing but malice!...

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Keeling
   epode masts
       tilt horizon’s sun
          collecting crimson

               Her sails ablaze
                  make mauve
                     evanesce


(9/22/2020: '97 Sea Ray 550 Sedan Bridge; Septolet contest)...

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Come towards the ocean of my eye
and feel that humid current
Come on, don't be frightened !
You'll see that glacier lake
through which the hot lava flows
Come and see the masts
that were never seen before
upon a world screaming in a soundproof sphere...



written at 13. I just translated it today......

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Lost in episodes of an early past,floating on a breeze of silver masts.The maroon crimson nights,the passion of onyx lights.The presence and the thrill of desire.The mist fell and drenched us all.Dont resist,don't fight the sacrifice.

                                                                                _sky...

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You spit your salty spite at me
Like I'm all who's ever err'd
A few times before, I've swam at sea
I don't jump in unprepared
So watch your kegs and cannonballs
'Fore another goes around
For I have broken masts and walls
Still yet have never drowned
Hung up when Davey Jones' called
And laughed at the tolling bell's sound...

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waves ignore call of the gulls,
tides ebb and flow,
sweep asunder blowing wind,
make setting Sun glow.
boats scamper to shore,
their masts ruffle in protest,
sea of dreams and lore!

written 27/06/2021
Sequidilla Poetry contest
William Kekaula sponsored
7 lines with 7575575 syllables with abcb ded rhyme...

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Its hot today
sky is so blue
clear
July hot
tomorrow we go north
to the music festival
scene of epic lovemaking
and music
live music
by the sea
in an old whaling town
dear to my heart
I always walk the boatyard
mesmerized
by the lines of masts and rope
boat colors 
greet friends
with clean salt air in my nose
and sit in the heat
purified
by music...

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Swirls of light
Enveloped the sails
On a quiet starlit night
 
A captain, on the deck
A precious cargo to keep
Phosphorescence trails
Iluminating the deep
 
Lanterns on the masts and spars
Reassuring touch of timber
Flap of sails
The navigation by the stars
 
On the sea
Lit by a moon
and star bright
Carrying precious things
A ships' captain
On the deck at night...

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He dances on the sand and waves,
white shirt in hand. 'The gold!'
He cries 'I've found the gold,
and ruby stones of deepest dye.'

Heedless, the cross-masts sink from sight.
Salt waters lap the arid shore.
Trickling tears now wet his cheeks,
for now he knows the reason why
 white bones bestrew the golden strand
and vultures squat so patiently
upon yon head of bald-bare rock,...

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She said
Boy, you couldn't land on water if you fell off a boat!

He responded...
The wind created by the flutter of your eyelashes makes men believe they can spread their masts and set sail in the desert. As I stepped back to observe your beauty, I fell overboard, and landed on dry reality.

As a tear rolled down the side of her cheek, I knew this lucky sailor had landed on water....

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Their ships must ride
a rolling sky,
masts too high to sail into view.

They appear, board the land,
they buccaneer.

The clamoring mob
fall upon a scuttling prey
pluck the weakest
into hungry holds.

An eye-aye cocked and ready,
they raid and maraud
as only
treasure seekers can.

The gulls are here
and for a while
sea and land broil.
the air erupting
with mutinous calls....

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He dances on the shore,
white shirt in hand,
and waves and waves.

The gold," he cries,
"I.ve found the gold
and ruby stones of deepest dye."

Heedless, the cross-masts
sink from sight.
Salt-water laps the shore.

Tears trickle down his cheeks,
for now he knows the reason why
white bones bestrew the golden strand

And vultures squat
so patiently upon
yonder head of bald-bare rock....

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More than a lost night,
heavy as old cloth,
blind as an unchanged wind,

rather a space where all the stars
are lower than down,
the moon drifts
through arcs of frost.

The high masts along the road
are crowned with sodium light,
a camp like the edge of a prison,
a string of cruel pearls.

This is how I suffer
from that which I seek,
alone in the changed dark.

A night-train passes, but at a distance....

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To Broken Boat
Whose land is lost, once more
To sail again, is life to end
So far outcast, the distant shore
With lines untied, the tide a friend

Whose hull, strengthened by years
To waves, rocking a lullaby
So worn, washed by tears
The heavens weep, for why to cry

Whose masts torn, to stop and think
To Broken Boat, the sea adrift
So holy the bilge, it knows not sink
With time so short, this life a gift

-Dakota Brockway...

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Of old
It’s told,
A tale
Of whale
So white
It might
Eclipse
Great ships
And smash
Their masts
And send
Its men 
To hell
As well.

Ishmail
Did sail
With mad
Ahab
And crew
Onto
The deep,
To seek
And slay 
That whale
So white,
Whose sight
Drove mad
Ahab.

The cost:
All lost
At sea,
But he
Alone,
Sea-blown,
Alive,
Survived
That hell,
To tell
His tale
of whale
And mad
Ahab. 
...

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Just take a look outside my window
And see what you can see
Green hills, trees and radio masts
Not such a pretty sight to see

A dockyard full of busy cranes
And at the station trains and yet more trains
Flat upon flat climbing high
Up and up till they reach the sky

Cars rushing here there, everywhere
In busy bustling city streets
People walking, children talking
But really it is all quite boring
So I’ll just get back to do some snoring...

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Rat rat tat rat of archangel 
wings 
Puffed grey streaks buzz masts 
of anchored boats
Being gently rocked to sleep by 
a rising tide.

An island rises wrapped in a 
cummerbund cloud
Shoulder high above a soft 
dissolving mist
Raises its head to bask in a 
warming kiss

A high speed ferry slips 
through the mouth of the 
harbor
With a cargo of fresh dreams 
waking the days of famine
A solemn nod to a flag 
drenched in sacrificial blood....

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Maybe
It’s best
Or maybe it’s better to believe
God wishes
To spread His spirit
Like dandelion seed to wind

Where it lands
It should stay

Resist the story of Ham
Embrace Eve

Mission not
In masts of ships or cannons shots
Nor with whips, coins, crowns, holy books, fighter jets
Or in a noose of love

Allow
The flower
To settle with its own face

To root and sow in a fertile place
Bloom in heart
Take shape with all its local smells and colors

A bouquet just for you....

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