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Nat Lipstadt Mar 25
“Mariners should alter plans to avoid these hazardous conditions. Remain in port, seek safe harbor, alter course, and/or secure the vessel for hazardous conditions.“
<•>
these governmental agencies
a veritable,, gala of cords of words,
have an urgency that is an
unintended poetry capture


the hazards of life
and their associated cruelty
oft brings out
the very finest of the best of us,
lurking in the innerest depths
we studiously avoid
lest we be embarrassed or
tearfully fulfilled


Remain in port!
(venture forth to save a life,
even your own)

Seek safe harbor!
(secure your internal best)

Alter course!
(there isn’t a single path,
that doesn’t consist of
thousands of minute
course corrections)

Secure the vessel!
(the first commandment,
your primary obligatory
to your first, the us, the rest)

for the most hazardous conditions
you’ll face,
are your own self-imposed
roadblocks and diversions,
overcome these is the hardest,
but success is freeing in a way
that makes you love this
ephemeral, always refining
de~fining yet obtainable potion
of
honest/to/goodness

true freedom

addendum
———-
discard, ignore
be wary of
those who fallback
on icebergs of curses
sandbag of ice Shoals
beneath the water surface
and when  they,
reduced to bile infected  
falling back on vulgarities and curses,
this the mist removal
line should never crook
or cross
Let them sink below the waterline for their talent is compromised, and they fail to understand and comprehend that poetry is intended to inspire
the commonality
that blends this potpourri of
im ourinternational collective who
value the collective spirit that informs our poetry

oh yeah
“**** my dck”
fouls this temperate commune
of politesse architecture here,
wounding us all

give us no more these

badwordsoffensive*
worse, tools of the
poorly pathetic thumb of the inarticulate,
in one so talented
2/18/25
Emery Feine Oct 2024
Everyday, I stand by the port
And wait for the boats to come in
And everyday, when the ship arrives
Not a single person gets off

At least not for me they don't
They run up to their friends
Kiss their lovers hello
Running on the dock with suitcases

They stare at me as they walk past
Only one there with no one to welcome
I feel them staring when I'm not looking
I wish they would stop staring.

Everyday, I stand by the port
Waiting for my sailor to come home
But my sailor never leaves the boat
Please, come home.
this is my 121st poem, written on 8/27/24
Travis Kroeker Dec 2019
Like the licking of an old dog that insists you take her
for a walk
the insistent swell
laps your legs.

Off port, headlamps
slip by in an unending current
supplying the illusion of your
inevitable progress forward,

and little certainty you had ever been moored at all.
Jonathan Moya Aug 2019
The port rests on my high right chest, a pink crater,
a  cleanly folded linen shroud kissed with tears
wheeled from operating room to recovery  
by melting folds of scrub blues with iodoform scents.

The fragrance of me is creased into a tucked blanket,
monitors on my legs and arm caressing rhythmic,
sounds dissolving into the hum left in a plastic wind-
wafting hints of my odorless crenulated alchemical cure.

My wife holds the origami of my old self in a
blue zip lock hospital bag that opens with a
singe of nitrate, the final aroma of good cooked food
settling on a rack then vanishing into a memory portal.

I smell no future,  just the staleness of hope and fear
as I uncrease myself into my clothes and stand unfolded
at the exit, in the threshold of a shadowless sunlight
whose sleeves I sniff for the blossoming plum tree.
The port is a medical port that is installed for the administration of chemotherapy.
Drop in the Sea Apr 2019
I love that love of marines
They kiss, and then they go
They won't take their promises
But either will come home

In every port, there's a sad lady
But they kissed, and now they're gone
Some night , as everyother
They'll kiss the waves to forget shore
Partial Translation of Pablo Neruda's farewell from Spanish language
Kayu Venture Mar 2019
Invincible for the empire roman;
That fury and vengeance was his language;
How Viriathus as vanquish around 200 years;
And lusitânia wasn't clears;

Port du graal was it's the place;
How was hidden the Holy Graal;
The secrets and wars was case;
And raise the Portugal;

The Kingdom for war and conquer ;
Was spoken by a glory Europe;
The spanish, french,english and Dutch ;
Bowed over the mighty Avis Master;

The glory and death of The Empire ;
Was not clear , the kindgom was gone;
The King D.Manuel II wasn't the bel;
But was bare wire;

Know Lusitania is lost;
So high is the cost?;
We never know the reason;
But Iberians gonna be the new season;
PoserPersona May 2018
'Twas a time I deemed thee love;
  the echoes lacked contraire
Sea moon shadows dance across
  this isle of despair

Entwined flesh eyes doth ne'er perceive,
  outside the mortal's scope
No sole charter giveth passage
  through salty waves unknown

'Tis what I think to see thee there
  on pedestals of gold
Forevermore you place thyself
  on stalwart shores alone

Unfurl thy sails for distant lands;
  the lighthouse shines once more
Praying to gods that long lost ship
  will find its way to port.
a stately
lacquer danced
there that'd
wax ***
with dire
this backer
but wore
queerish charms
that throes
made alarm
in their
buttons that
drew polish
in wishes
of setting
to ring
in accord
with walnuts
a queerish note
Arcassin B Jan 2018
By Arcassin Burnham


My Eyelids can't hide , from the light , it gives,
instincts don't dry in order , to , survive to live,

babies born while being bathe, all , in sin,
relationships torn to pieces , daddy's gone again,


And i wish I had a pass port to drop from the world in
a space suit guarding my life , just trying to hold on.
Every moment in these tragedies we spend wondering
why the good lord won't come down , you just gotta be strong.


the mistakes we make will always be there , don't you know,
the world can't extinguish , we need , these kids , to grow,

Give them a chance , give them a spotlight to thrive ,on and shine,
with love anything is possible , but with , hate to defend your life,


And i wish I had a pass port to drop from the world in
a space suit guarding my life , just trying to hold on.
Every moment in these tragedies we spend wondering

why the good lord won't come down , you just gotta be strong.
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2018/01/pass-port-weak-strong-saga.html

©abpoetry2018
Andrei Marin Aug 2016
Boats and ships are sailing in and out, seafarers and merchants; bustling about, the busy port, like a work of art, filled with last kisses, before long months apart.

A place of noises, smells, emotion, comotion...
A place of lies, farewells and goodbyes...

The sea is calling so many away, starting adventures one beautiful day, watching the winds and waves at play.

The port is a sad and happy place, for him: an adventure ready to start,
for her: a sad day, before a long time apart.
This is how I would imagine a harbor/port...
I know it's not the case today, but it's still fun to imagine it like in the old days...
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