Short Skiff Poems

When the wind is just right and sky

is clear of dark clouds I take sail.
Skiff takes me to where the fish lie

This early morning I can’t fail...

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oars barely skim the surface
skiff glides smoothly
as if floating on the dense fog
cormorants perch on pilings
silence broken by hungry gulls
rising sun glistens water
salt air invigorates my being
memories engulf me...

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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...

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I see a wind-swept, seaside cliff
From a red skiff
Aside my love
Sea birds above

Snow glistens on a mountain peak
She and I seek
Peaceful retreat
As two hearts beat

We go as one through evening mist
Live, don't exist
Imagine all
Answer the call...

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A seagull’s cry
Twilight fog deepening
A distant bell gong
The quiet rattle of chord against mast

A partial conversation soon lost
The skiff fading into shadow
A hot mug of chocolate
My fishing line over the side to pass the time

With comfy sweatshirt and watch cap
I remember
My Father’s boat...

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yellow ochre colored river flows, like a shy child’s beating heart that light up the cosmos
beneath callus imprints etched in watery depths below  
a fisherman on small skiff drifts guided by lazy oars
shimmering reflections swirls   left behind in the morning mist floors


3/4/2016...

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the skiff chugs along
toward the end of the lake
where the tall peaks rise

snowcapped mountains ripple
across a backwash

an eagle
glides in a blue distance

a red and yellow float
mirrors itself
below the surface

one silvery fish slipping 
under
a deeply swimming sun

no way to catch that


...

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Rowed my skiff 'long a gentle stream
    Afternoon sailed by like fresh whipped cream
  
  When of a sudden, the sky did gleam
    with myriad stars, nighttime's regime ... 

  As I took in this scene, I found myself
    riding a pounding ocean's foaming surf

  My peaceful stream naught but an estuary
    My oars commandeered by a playful faerie...

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He casts his net in cool, deep water,
Intent on things below.
Silently I watch him work,
But he will never know.

The sun gleams off his sun bronzed back.
His muscles glisten, shine;
As sweat and water mingle,
Emphasize each line.

He comes out here most every day,
Fishing from a skiff.
Bare but for some faded shorts,
He gives my heart a lift....

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He casts his net in cool, deep water,
Intent on things below.
Silently I watch him work,
But he will never know.

The sun gleams off his sun bronzed back.
His muscles glisten, shine,
As sweat and water mingle,
Emphasize each line.

He comes out here most every day,
Fishing from a skiff.
Bare but for some faded shorts,
He gives my heart a lift....

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Ye dirty son of a sea dog
Ye rotten pile o' bones
Ye'll see the end o' me cutlass
I'll intrrroduce ye to Davey Jones

Ye'll not be getn me treasure
For Ive the map ye see
Ill set ye adrift in a leaky skiff
And food for fish ye'll be

Me chest be filled wi diamonds
And rubies, pearls and such
But ye'll be treadn water
Me treasure ye wont touch


My ode to pirates everywhere.....

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Ye dirty son of a sea dog
Ye rotten pile o' bones
Ye'll see the end o' me cutlass
I'll intrrroduce ye to Davey Jones

Ye'll not be getn me treasure
For Ive the map ye see
Ill set ye adrift in a leaky skiff
And food for fish ye'll be

Me chest be filled wi diamonds
And rubies, pearls and such
But ye'll be treadn water
Me treasure ye wont touch


My ode to pirates everywhere.....

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Fish are belly up so is the burnt-out train.
In a few months
we may have a herd
of two-headed calves.

The Ohio is polluted they say.
Nevertheless here I am in my skiff
letting the current take me down to the Mississippi
or maybe just to Indiana for some lunch.

Not going to fish though.

I light a pipeful of 'Captain Black Regular'
let the smoke rise up
like a mushroom cloud
of love....

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Tidal waters. The estuary itself
seems to swim through the morning mist.

I like to go to the river mouth
hold my skiff steady
where the currents mingle.

In poor visibility
the little boat slowly turns.
Small waves crest under the hull.
I am both turned and lifted.

Often I feel the immensity of this ocean planet
and my place in all this grandeur,
and not just the usual
fish out of water....

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THE FISHERMAN

He casts his net in cool deep water,
Intent on things below.
Silently I watch him work,
But he will never know.

The sun gleams off his sun bronzed back,
His muscles glisten, shine,
As sweat and water mingle,
Emphasize each line.

He comes out here most every day,
Fishing from a skiff,
Bare but for some faded shorts,
He gives my heart a lift.

                                              Judy Ball...

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Tour boat, ferry, sailboat, skiff
Bounce along the briny;
Sunshine sparkles on the waves,
Reflections bright and shiny.

Blimp and copter in the sky
Meeting no resistance;
Bridge, majestic, guarding all – 
A pillar in the distance.

Police boat passes, pulsing blue
And beeps at people waving;
Children, on a trip from school,
Reluctantly behaving.

Downtown on the promenade,
The river slowly flowing;
I soak up my surroundings,
Glad for time before my going....

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The hull lolls,
anchored to a fouling current.
Juggernauts of heat sleep under a leaden sky,
bugs lurch and slow skirt.
I nod over my spine, afloat on a humming haze.
An osprey jumps out of a high ambit,
swooping fast.
I imagine a wind in the wake of its wings.
The bird dives, cleaves the light, arrow bright
parting the weight of these doldrums.
The wallowing skiff seems to shrug off the heavy air
as talons scoop up a wriggling fish
together with my up-lifted mind....

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