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Dinesh Padisetti Aug 2021
Run brother run,
The tides of regrets are coming,
To drown you in the Sea of Sorrows.
Each year the tide gets bigger,
Until one day it swallows you whole.

So start building that boat
Full of adventures & memories,
To sail across the Sea of Sorrows,
And reach the island of tomorrow.
Clive Blake Jul 2021
Sea calm,
Crew slept,
Dark side,
Sea kept,
Tide raced,
Waves crept,
Crew woke,
Sails prepped,
Coiled spring,
Waves leapt,
Overboard,
Crew swept,
Left behind,
They wept.

For the sea has no respect
For the nautically inept …
A Cornish poem about the sea.
By Cornish Poet Clive Blake
Matthew Sabella Jun 2021
It slowly continues to argue with me day in and day out.
Like a creep following in the shadows,
it decides to elude me no matter how I feel.

As the mandolin plays its sad tune,
and the guitar only remembers the sound of minor chords,
the melancholy erodes the wall that has protected the people since birth.

Taking its time to analyze and devise,
making plans and biding its time.
The edge defines the lie that it says is inside.

Maybe the next ship will take me along.
Maybe it will sail farther away than the last one.
Maybe its anchor will drop on more pleasant shores.

As I scream at the city that has been my home for so long,
As I stare into its ugly face,
I no longer know which way to go.

Do I go to the harbor and board the boat?
Do I search for my creeper in the alleys and roads?
Or do I stay where I am and take heart to the fact that I am still taking breath?

Why are you staying by my side?
You should go.
Why are you still waiting with me in line?
Don't you have better places to be?

When the night is angry and the clouds block out the moon,
I wonder if it will find me?
When the weather is sour and the day looks like the night,
I wonder if it will find me?

Anyway, I choose you, stay by my side.
Any path I take you have loved me despite the tide.
Any time I wept you were there with me and you cried.

Why do you stay when I am in the fray,
When my anxiety shoots you like a gun,
or when my anger manifests and stabs you like a knife?

I look over my shoulder and the creeper is there.
Always ten paces behind no matter which way I twist and I turn.

I look over my shoulder and I see you coming up beside.
You're reaching for my hand and telling me to trust.

I close my eyes and let you guide me to where I should go.
I release any semblance of control.

The sun finally breaks the clouds and the creeper steps aside.
Still, ten paces behind but comfort are by my side.
The sun brightens my face and I begin to cry.
For the night was long and the day has finally come.

The day is finally the day,
and I can see the bay.
The boat is right where I left it.
I look to you and you say it's okay.
So we take our steps and board the boat looking for better shores where we can play.
Nat Lipstadt Jun 2021
First Boat


first boat off the island @ 5:40 am,
the sun, savvy and knowledgeable
makes sunrise @ 5:14 am for ‘late’ is
not an adjective extant in its stellar lexicon

a safety check, sunlight invades every crack,
pilings vested & secured, ferry engine hums a
warming, morning cranking tune, a sailors
favorite from the global ******’s hymnal

those early morning voyagers, who are exchanging,
one island for another, note their coffee steaming up
coordinates with haze, burning off, all to see the first
waves come to rock them voyagers to “all awaken”

sunlight then slow spreads its envision, from the Heights
over to Mashomack, rousing, disturbing, nudging the
remaining, for there is work, living aplenty, we who stay
to tend to the most appropriately named isle in the world


6/12/21
Silver Beach
Shelter Island, New York
Edoardo Alaimo Jun 2021
For some reason,
Things with no sense
Are the foundation
For everything else.

Standing on a raft,
Struggling through
waves and winds,
logic and reality.

You create your purpose,
a clear direction.
Maybe, this path,
can be the foundation.
A small thought on the relation between man and science. Which share strengths and weaknesses.
Henry Feb 2021
The horizon took a smoke break at sunset
And 7 hours later she's still gone
No doubt sleeping with the breeze
I stand on the deck in the darkness
Leaning forward
My hands on the rail
Gazing at the infinite mirror, reflecting
The air is as still and cold as the water
Just like the man next to me
He sighs but no vapor forms
He's cloaked in a blue shadow
Like the bottom of the ocean
A darker blue I've never seen
But in a voice clear as ice he asks
'Do you love me?'
I nod
'Not talking tonight?'
I nod
He rests his stygian blue fingers
On the back of my moon-light hand
And we kiss
Enjoying each other
Until the sun clocks in in the morning
2/1/21
The personification of the moon and the sea. Look up stygian blue it's very interesting and helps with the visual. ((This is also my 4th attempt at uploading this poem idk what's going on with the site but whatever))
Man Jan 2021
you're unaware of your plasticity
but it's plain to see to me
you're an artificial fabrication
of what you think you should be
but the rescue boats are coming
if you'll throw your hand out for an oar
help you'll find
from people like life rafts
who'll drag you to shore
yet you stab at the boat
puncturing it's tender flesh
the water's rising
it's hard denying
you did this yourself
Carter Jan 2021
Standing upon the sea shore
I start notice that I see more.

I then begin to ponder
What's down there I wonder?

Planes and boats? relics of war?
Fish and crustaceans? creatures galore!

Perhaps I'll get a boat, something to restore
Yeah, that sounds nice.
With woodgrain décor

and Hopefully I wont crash
N ' end up ashore
First...
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