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Star BG Feb 2020
At the dock of my dreams
morning sun rise.
Watching AS TIDE TAKES mind
away inside quiet time.

I watch as time floats away

No time wasted
no time taken for granted

I sit at dock
WATCHING tide divinely dance.
Watching as breath match waves
and change WAITS clvidid first
in mind then in heart.

I watch as bones rest.
I mediate roaming in a grateful mind

no time waisted
no visions taken for granted.

I sit at dock
no place I’d rather be
after roaming many a mile

I let self simmer into moment
I ready self for change to plant roots
so dreams flower

No time waisted
No reason not to smile.
Inspired by old song Sitting On The dock of bay
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2019
Waiting quietly in line at the age of nine
Wet hair clinging to nervous skin
Remembering previous summers
Past attempts I failed to swim

To pass you must bring yourself
To the water trampoline and back to the dock
Then tread water for thirty seconds
By then arms feel like rocks

My friends wished me luck
Before into the water I leapt
Pushed my muscles through the cold
As I surfaced from the murky depths

I reached the looming yellow island
Turned around, feet on the ladder, and kicked
I used that small bit of extra momentum
To keep paddling  though lungs constrict

When I find myself back at the wooden dock
Then final countdown starts
Each cell in my body is aching
This is the last and hardest part

Fighting with the freezing lake
The test is nearly done
Just as I am about to give up
Day 20: write a narrative poem about a childhood memory

Mine is about passing the swim test at bible camp and being allowed in the deep part of the lake
Daniel Simpson Aug 2018
I stand on an abandoned dock
There's nothing in the desolate water
Just me facing the wind, no one to talk
Blowing onto my face, salty tidewater

Eyes closed with clouds overhead
The wind blows, bringing in different things
grief, pain, loss, lies, all unsaid
But the wind runs its own course, caring for nothing

Yielding for none
So I stand there, fists clenched
Faced stoically towards the wind, I could run
I remember the people behind me, each entrenched

Those who rely on me to block the salty sea
Sometime they don't feel the breeze
At times they forget the wind even blows, if only they could see
I never could through, as my very soul it tries to seize

This is my duty, like a giant totem pole
Watching over my people, they are my pearl
Keeping my hands clenched, I think of my role
They are ignorant to the real world

But that keeps me locked to the world
Against each gust of wind
Then I remember the one before me and all his worth
The one I looked up to, the one I wish I could send

Always there looking off at the horizon
Waiting for something
But always blocking the wind and what lies within
At the time I knew nothing of these things

Then like the wind, he moved on
Leaving that patch of worn wood where he stood abandoned
But just because he left didn't mean the wind moved on
The wind destroyed the home my family had made so grand

I was left with a choice:
Let the winds destroy my home
Or listen to my inner voice
So I marched down to that dock all alone

The winds in my face
Threatening to knock me over every step I take
Hands against the wind I pressed against its chill embrace
Until I found the end of my fate

I placed my feet in the ground
Locked into place
So now I stand here not making a sound
But now there's something in the water

Ships coming into harbor
As they lower their anchor
They come out single file
The first walks out

"We've all braved the storm too"
Then she grabs hold of my hand
As if following her orders, the others do the same
One by one

Ship by ship
The line following the shore from my crowded dock begins to unify
And with each one of their cries
The wind slowly begins to die
The first poem I ever wrote. I wrote it this year in my creative writing class.
a poster
here showed
her captive
still knows
her radiant
looks replace
her opportunity
where looks
were here
only to
browse and
dispel our
fear of
brazen and
trim her
eyes there
with antiquity
Katelyn Billat Dec 2017
It was a cold dark night.
The moon hung bright
In the starry eternal sky.

It was a night I
Would usually be afraid of,
But as we shivered on the dock,
Surrounded by the shimmering water,
I was at ease.
In your arms I felt peace.
Non-parity used to bring electric shocks to this house husband, who wrote the following during an earlier chapter of mine existence.
natur­al temptation found command
   from divine dada disobeyed
earthbound Olympian of love
   now dwells amidst mossy glade
in which human guise,
   she doles out secrets of amorous trade
into dreamland such desire does in vade.

victuals to satiate pleasures of flesh
   especially erogenous zones
administered by imaginary mistress
   sin seductive tones
thru this private line, but no other phones
triggering mine little rolling stones
inducing groin seams of pants extreme groans
toward pocket sixty nine without any bones.

a copious amount of adoration
   suffuses entire body of this man
her, whose gentle and kind embrace
   promises to be eternal plan
whose healthy libido will probably
   outlive life span.

royal carpet treatment
   awaits me each and every day
   as differences between myself
   and august dweller on high
establish a bounty and glory of compassion
   to roll in the hay
    atop bodacious, delicious,
   felicitous fantasy asks me to lie
imbibing succulent atmosphere
   akin to an eternal month o may
   taking spirit soaring
   thousands of miles of feet in the sky.

upon hearing sweet nothings
  nobody else can hear
a sheer grin of joy
   lights up countenance ear to ear
despite impish quarks
   of this divine being so dear
as journey to inxs of nirvana
   induced from being buck naked bare.

while ******* hallucination
   at my male member does yank
reality quite the opposite with a wife acidly rank
she frequently pulls my hair as a childish prank
knowing full well that action
   turns mood sour as a crank
I would escape, but no money in piggy bank.

other times, her karma roars
   into a tempest with a rage
lashing out like a half-crazed
   maniac loosed upon global stage
on account of silent battles we regularly wage.

i admit my own fair share of peculiar traits
which only to private confidences t'will now relate
keep on the q-t lest spouse doth berate.

chief among these oddities comprise
   lower gastrointestinal
   perturbations issuing from the ***
which prompt innumerable outbursts of gas
which range from quiet puff to noisy, windy pass.

after usage of toilet with a bowel movement  
   large enough to sink a sub
wash ****** residue from my behind
   with a hose attached to the tub.

this couple resembles Frankenstein & his bride –
  argh what a pair
she taunts when i shower,
   clean the rest of my body including  hair
dry follicles shaking head
   back & forth side to side through the air.

there you now know foibles
   and unusual personal ways
uttering that such antics how she plays
like netted in a one man fraternity
   undergoing constant haze
pelting this poor soul scraps of food, she flays
until these covered
   with thick pasty gloppy glaze,
now laugh till you fall over
   and remain in stitches for days.
Jamil Massa Aug 2017
My head is a bay. The memory of you like the waves that swarm when the wind switches and the whistle of the ship is sounded. The longitude lines fall on a map, the navigation is helpless when I'm bowed in the presence of your eyes. That eyes which was made from the rainy season.

Your ships contain anxiety, vulnerable content, whereas love is a minor deviation from a cruise line. I am the dock for you. Anchored and wake the seagulls. For a long time no one leaned, or just reminded that the sea is not always blue.

Anchored and wake me up. Because your whisper is more patient than the air that hit the masts. Your presence is the reason why light is never lost at the top of the lighthouse.

Anchored and wake me up. Because the best morning is when my longing is covered with your eyelashes, my sleep is overgrown with black dots that hold your lip line, my vanish is ****** in a trough hidden behind your soul.

Wake me, with the most desolate shaking you have.
(The original version - Indonesian)

Amy, 2

Kepalaku adalah teluk, ingatan tentangmu bak ombak yang meriap saat angin beralih dan peluit kapal dibunyikan. Garis-garis bujur gugur pada selembar peta, navigasi tak berdaya tatkala aku tertunduk di hadapan matamu yang terbuat dari musim hujan.

Kapal-kapalmu berisi kecemasan, muatan yang rentan, padahal cinta adalah penyimpangan kecil dari sebuah jalur pelayaran. Aku adalah dermaga untukmu. Menepilah dan bangunkan burung-burung camar itu. Sudah lama tak ada yang bersandar, atau sekadar mengingatkan kalau laut tak selamanya biru.

Menepilah dan bangunkan aku. Sebab bisikanmu lebih sabar dari udara yang membentur tiang-tiang layar. Kehadiranmu adalah alasan mengapa cahaya tak pernah hilang di puncak mercusuar.

Menepilah dan bangunkan aku. Sebab pagi terbaik adalah ketika rinduku dijatuhi bulu matamu, tidurku ditumbuhi titik hitam yang menahan garis bibirmu, lenyapku adalah tersesap dalam palung yang sembunyi di balik jiwamu.

Bangunkan aku, dengan gemetar paling sunyi yang kau punya.
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