Short Moored Poems

No respiration 
Stranded and moored blue buttons
Drying on the strand



By Robb A. Kopp

All Rights Reserved © MMX...

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A word is just a word
dormant on a plate 
until..
it is read seen heard
or maybe too late
A soul is just a sole 
floundering pon the shore
til its fed a life line
gutted or moored...

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The insomnia came in cloud covered fragments
with its mother, Depression.
As silent and pallid as she,
her hand clasped tightly to her,
as if two gray spirits that moored
in a silvered sorrowful tide....

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out from me sins poured (5)
always thankful to my Lord (7)
my ship safely moored (5)

to see you glad will be (5)
and thank you for loving me (7)
God set my soul free (5)

This are my Horn Haikus for the day....

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Think that of me, as you
     head to the sea,
A beach upon which 
     a boat can be moored,
     a signal lamp stored,
for safety and comfort,
     or a notion of home,
Wherever you go, 
     whenever you roam....

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It's hard to feel like
your growing up when you're moored
- sheltering at home.

I am patiently
waiting to take the helm of my
life's navigation.

My life, so far, is
prelude - I long to cast off 
and exit the slip....

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Hemmed in by the Nearness
Held back by the Now
The wishful striver, always, who
O'ercome both somehow.

Lost in an isle's sailed thrill
Sea-hazed, whilst safe moored!
As far unfound, delirious
Whilst by Time's Sea shored!...

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We are two wandering ships...
                  two love boats
                  when permanently
                  moored together...
                   found passionate
                   sailing at sea
                    of love...!...

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Sun penetrates icicles drip
Morn's sun melts sandy snow
Moored to the shore with ropes sturdy
Trapped in a boat no go

Icicles drop cold liquid like tears
Shed for life's soon parting
What will the eaves do for diamonds
When gems have departed ...

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the moored hulls
drop
down in the haze

rise again
like wet birds

the boats slip
in and out

of the mist
come back painted by
distant seas

wet ropes squeak
rigging rattles as they list
water is shipped

whitecaps last seen
in a shipwrecked 
china teacup...

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moored in glade and rill
resting in claggy stodge
boggy green and juicy with rain
my walk sloshes with plunger feet


Mire of the Northern Rain Forest
May 16, 2020
Brians Choice G Poetry Contest


September 8, 2020
Rithimus Divisa 5 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Gregory Barden...

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Horrific hound’s horrid hair     					            
Holding human hatred 					          
Haggardly hawk hones hooks 					            
Harping harlot’s whoring  haze					               
Mean mares manes maddens mind 				         
Marauders mane my mainstay  					            
Mobility moored most menacing...

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all at sea, my restive heart
waters are calm, but in calmness
   moored 
the bounty of a lover's soliloquy
raging torrents bequeath a joy 
you ask of beauty's tapestry, guided
yet do I seek
yet do I fold in conjecture
nature's bliss, consuming waves
   please...
   I ask in limerence
and we, ships sail away

...

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You keep me anchored
Safely moored to the shore    
A beautiful harbor 
Is where I reside
A sweet cove secure 
From the incoming tide
Dare I drift away
Your grasp holds me back
Although a storm comes today
I'm not pulled into the black
But sweetly stowed in your seaport 
As you bravely battle the fray
And I'm forever in your court 
As I'm lovingly locked away....

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I am a vessel on a sea
within the harbours sanctuary,
its granite arms enclose me safe
and mask the waters stormy face.

Here I am moored in a small life
protected from the gales of strife,
the whispering sounds beyond the walls
I cannot distinguish at all.

Oh from taught chains I would be freed
then unrestrained I’d gather speed
outbound to the expansive sea
the synthesis of liberty....

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Gray evening's like gray dawn's ties thicken
At the exact same pacing expanse—
Both briefly hold the sun's motions in
Pallor moored with unmistakableness.
I am shaken by her warrior crest,
For I more than feel gray's breaking touch;
Though not cutting paths perused in lust,
But being where gentle pigeons send—
For gray evenings like gray dawns there must
Be a soft kindred line between them....

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A slow twist of an invisible slide
and the hulls again escape,
drop down into the morning haze,
return as gray gulls rising.

The moored boats
slip in and out of the fog
as easily as ocean legends
then come back
painted by a distant sea.

Sinking or flying
the small craft slip through a sky
only as wide as the river,

but when they return
they ship water last seen
in a shipwrecked teacup....

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*Image of Flower Purple Orchids by Pixabay.

Dream Makers

fresh
half-castes
tranced set eyes
moored wild sparkles 
smooched perianths hues
moon chant ripen charm bud

purplish-lacquered functions 
claimed space far and few
*cheat death to thrive
warm broad spots
mauve blooms
dense

*Epiphyte: Plants that grow on another plant but are not parasitic.

2021 August 12...

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Dark art in a black cathedral
Everyones invited see all the people
Dressed as ghouls in barrows with wights
love is the spider that consumes the fly

Half my face for all to see
the other side black like the darkest sea
Moonshine falls on crystal eyes
the bones of our minds creak and sigh

Midnight mare moves with me
We rock and sway like ships at sea
On an ocean plain of marble floor
Within my heart her anchors moored...

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A slow twist, an invisible slide
the hulls of small boats
again escape,
drop down into the morning fog,
return like seagulls rising.

The moored,
slip in and out of the mist
enigmatic as any legend
then return,
painted now,
by the deeply diving sky.

Sinking or flying, the small craft
slip through our vision,
like river leaking ghosts.

They roll upon an obscure air,
ship cloudy waves,
last seen
in a shipwrecked teacup.


...

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How does 1 cut the hair on a head that's no longer here,
prolonged was the shadow with holding tender mercy.
With I left needy, no 1 to toast our final beer.
Since have I found no inner peace,
instead I poured your love into 3 neice.
Believing you flew free upon release,
back to the deck of the Cavalier,
moored off the Cape of Good Hope
where you finally found that you belonged there
Sat on the pier, red sky at night,
Gerard's delight......

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When I was a young man I dreamt a young man's dreams of bucolic fields and 
mysterious streams 
Those streams that would wisk me down to the sea.
There to board the ship that would carry me to far of lands and opportunity.
Now I am and old man and dream old man's dreams of the fire and hearth and 
grandchildren's screams.
My ship now moored yet strains at the lines.
I hear her voice whisper come boy  climb aboard let us journey one last time....

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moored hulls sink lower
in a rising haze

as ghost ships
they slowly surface
when the sky
finds a patch of clarity

again and again
the vessels slip
in and out of the mist
only to come back painted by
distant seas
farther horizons
that ship deep-sea spume
over anchored hulls

wet ropes creak
rigging rattles
as a foaming fog washes
over prows

unseen gulls call
summoning visions
of whitecaps last seen
in a shipwrecked
china teacup...

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Moored in Portofino
Are a bunch of gleaming yachts,
Reminding us that they're the haves
And we're the poor have-nots.

Their owners shop in high-class shops
And dine among their peers
While tourists come by boat or bus
To buy some souvenirs.

With prices slightly higher here,
Gelato still tastes fine.
Both caramel and hazelnut
Filled up a cone of mine.

At leaving time I'll board the bus
And bid the yachts farewell,
Returning to my hotel room
Where normal people dwell....

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