#cruise
Wanted to take you on a cruise ride, but you are afraid of the waters..
Aug 27, 2023
Aug 27, 2023 at 2:03 PM UTC
☁️…
“Lol I’ll take you with me
some time
and we’ll watch airplanes
land/fly away
when the sun sleeps
into the night..
I’ll pick you up @8pm
as traffic dies down.”
Jun 27, 2023
Jun 27, 2023 at 11:32 PM UTC
Your solitude;
Is about the
only souvenir
I can claim,
From our one way voyage.
Dec 2, 2020
Dec 2, 2020 at 4:45 AM UTC
Waves wash up against your splendor,
You part the sea not in the way Moses did,
but with a gentle calmness,
Isolation encloses around you like a never-ending shade of blue drawing you further into paradise,
Your destination is near yet seems so far,
The sun’s rays light up the powder blue sky reassuring you of the journey ahead,
In the distance, a silhouette of land appears speckled with different shapes and colors,
Anxious faces peer out over the ledge anticipating the adventures to come,
Slowly you come to a halt, quietly humming as you open up with a satisfying sigh,
Lines assemble like ants on the ground, gradually exiting in unison,
The cool breeze comforts you as you rest awhile, patiently waiting for the next journey ahead
Jan 20, 2020
Jan 20, 2020 at 12:35 PM UTC
My brain is stuck in cruise
And sometimes I get lost
Lost on words and emotions
Stuck on what I should be feelin
Head poundin and medication low
My brain is stuck in cruise
Just goin with the flow
Maybe I am addicted
Or maybe this is withdraw
But baby I am stuck
Stuck on words to stay to you
Sep 4, 2019
Sep 4, 2019 at 12:05 AM UTC
gentle water
lapping the hull
bossa nova
clinking glasses
a tickle
of the piano's ivory keys
and you're lost
in giant strawberries
of a daiquiri
dribbling down your chin
onto your palm frond top
and shorts while you
swing and sway
poolside
tomorrow Ocho Rios Jamaica
but today sun and sea
tonight the crown stars
and a ruby juicy
fingernail moon
Whit Howland © 2019
Jul 14, 2019
Jul 14, 2019 at 4:54 AM UTC
Her spirit shines of skittles
The flavors you taste on a tropical island
Her soul is made of the first blanket of snow
Cold, but gleams so delightfully in the sunlight
When I look at her this is what I see
Something that I could never be
She’s a magnet to the people around her
Fixed like a child to their mother
A fire so easily contained
She cannot be tamed
Nor does she belong in a cage
The purest warmth you cannot disobey
I promise not to control it
I promise I won’t try to tame it
The fire inside of me is abstract to yours
It’s already ignited a forest to flames
A monster that I created
A fog rampant all around me
Rehabilitate my spirit
Teach me how to add color to my bleak existence
Jan 24, 2019
Jan 24, 2019 at 9:24 AM UTC
A cruise,
towards a place
suddenly the waves shake me
the blue,
drown me in
hug me tightly
take me between choices
free but lost
or
sink and die
in the calm that I crave.
Give me time to float
air, pull me
sea, hold me
let me dying
while I ask this
to God,
Can I shed tears
on things that are not mine
can I despair
For pain that is not my body
can I kneel down
on things that I can't have a second time
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
The unscrupulous cavalry shuffled aboard narrow lanes,
Cutting in line towards Jager Bomb's tether,
Cluttered duffel bags concealing cheap champagnes,
Passing cruise ship commuter's ruffled feathers.
With their fake, "excuse me's" en route to the bar,
Coercing the conductor who's been under the weather
With smug smiles and counterfeit Cuban cigars.
Leaving the harbor three sheets to the wind
The cowards commandeered Grandparents pool chairs,
A little past midnight with no foresight of end,
An abrupt brawl broke out, fists flying through air.
A sightseeing whale trip turned into a ship from hell,
The assailants now held in a South of Wales cell.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:07 AM UTC
Cronin and Richrath accompany me on this trip,
Driving down this stretch of 75,
Driving amongst the clouds and mountains of the Blue Ridge,
Giving off a soft yet intense tune.
The sun has just set,
Giving the sky a odd dark hue,
The rumbling of the jeep is a constant,
Sounds from the old engine almost giving the song certain cues.
The wind ripping through the open cabin,
Tearing at clothes and hair,
The howling it gives off,
Fails to drown out Cronin's cries,
Of his personal philosophy he sings.
Better the brutal truth than a shocking revelation of betrayal,
Hands gripping the steering wheel tighter,
Driving to destiny,
A better future awaits.
Driving to destiny
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 11:14 PM UTC
Passive stances and subtle aggression
***** dishes wiped clean
A bucket of bleach and toxic masculinity
This is home to me,
Lavish meals and trips dripping in fantasy
Older men's eyes had *** with me
While my neck was seared with fake jewelry
Home appears to follow me,
Desire wears a scarf of sin
Lust around my ankles and wrists
Naked for all to see
This was home to me.
Feb 28, 2018
Feb 28, 2018 at 1:38 AM UTC
in track
of attire
that my
grudge require
a witch
so blue
with idol
now witch
with hers
will entitle
our country
was permanent
waves in
Hatboro that
I'll always
gander with
a yarl
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 7:45 AM UTC
On the bed I lay
Bubble by bubble I let my breath sway
Deep below this ocean
Where there is no escape way
My fate struck bad luck on this very day
Friends and families gathered today
For a cruise tour over the bay
This happened in the month of May
The boat caught up near a far strait
Where current flowed in massive state
No one knew we would meet up with a blow
When the boat began to move slow
The engine stuck alerted the crew
Knowing so, our fears grew
The captain immediately called on rescue
Most people had life jackets on
While I was left alone in the queue
One sudden bang and I was thrown below
Lucky I sank holding onto a rope let low
I thought it was my death fall
But few hours later, I realised it was a rescue call
I was saved from death
Which I was about to meet
I never reached the seabed that lay to my greet
I got lucky as I am alive and safe in my own bed...
©sim
Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
-Lyrix
-Rockn' Jazz
Cruise my way
to the West Coast
Maybe make the beach
by June or July
Oh it really doesn't matter
No it really doesn't matter
Those blond
blue eyed surfer girls
Me I'll be stranded,
standing and a staring
and Me I'll be breezing
Me Pacific 'n Breezing
Maybe I'll go
And maybe I will stay
If you're looking for me
Look out there in LA
LA I finally made it
LA I'm on my way
through your mountains
Oh it's down onto the beach
out into the streets You know to Downtown LA
Oh you know it's LA
with the wind at your back
and a song that I heard
on the way
Me I'll be breezing
Me Pacific 'n Breezing
Got me a place
on Pacific
Take me a room
on Breeze Avenue
You know it really matters
Everything matters
Dreaming in the
City of the Angels
Living my life the
Angel Town way
A breeze in my face
There never was
a place like LA
and I'll breeze Her
Me Pacific 'n Breezing
Cruise my way
to the West Coast
Maybe make the beach
by June or July
You know it really matters
Everything really matters
and I will breeze Her
Me Pacific 'n Breezing
Maybe I'll go
And maybe I will stay
Oh if your looking for me
Look out there
in LA.
-R.
(79)
-LA
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
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.
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 5:48 AM UTC
Everything just passes me by
People, hope and opportunity, no matter how I try
The focus of my life is not to focus on the past
And it all goes by so fast
I'm stuck here in my room, on my bed
Reminiscing over things, trapped inside my head
Like this is where I'm at now, no doubt
I've got so much more to do
Way too much to lose, way too young to cruise
Should be getting out more often but I don't wanna bruise
The backlash of my actions, intended or not
Is not something that I've forgot
Not something I can forget
Because I'm not done just yet
I got things to do, much to lose
Now is not the time for me to cruise
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 1:08 AM UTC
You will not be harboured forever,
You are not meant to stay still.
Storms might threaten & hurt, however,
Stagnation, no doubt, will ****
Get ready, fix all loose ends,
Keep on sailing, flit, explore!
And say "Hi" to all my friends,
If you see them near the shore.
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:46 AM UTC
The inevitable dark
The irresistible passion
Touch of yours
What else be there
Than Cruisification of soul.-06.09.2014
===============================
অনিবার্য অন্ধকার
অপরিহার্য আবেগ
তোমার পরশ
আর কি থাকে
আত্মার আত্মীকরণ-এ!-০৬.০৯.২০১৪
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 5:12 AM UTC
to my perfect stranger;
your voice still reverberates
through the cavities of my head,
but i’d rather have you here,
soft words in my ears instead.
i miss your chestnut eyes,
the way they interlocked with mine,
your tousled brown hair shining
as the stars above us seemed to align.
now, while you govern my thoughts,
every word we spoke on constant replay,
i work to memorize your each and every flaw,
for they’ll begin to fade; one by one, day by day.
soon you will cease to exist to me,
your presence now a thought i’d beg to run into.
your touch will soon be washed clear off my skin,
yet when i’m alone, i’ll open my arms to the ghost of you.
there will be countless days and weeks
where your voice doesn’t tiptoe up my spine,
where our memories never try to board my train of thought,
yet when i’m feeling dismal, i’ll remember that you once were mine.
you’ve shown me the beauty in anonymity,
the simplicity of two lonely souls breathing in time.
you’re still a beautiful stranger to me,
your name, your story, a set of words; unable to rhyme.
when my tidal wave of thoughts begins to calm,
your youthful giggle sends ripples through the waters,
remembering how serendipitous you were to me,
for maybe you and i would’ve bonded had the water been hotter.
i find myself doubting the truth in your existence,
for your being is simply beginning to blur.
you were a god-sent blessing to me,
an unexpected summer storm that i never dreamed could occur.
you left your mark on my forehead,
a moment keeping eyes from staying dry,
yet we only said “goodnight”,
never gracing each other with a fateful “goodbye”.
i know that years from now i’ll look back,
remembering bits and piece of my adolescent days,
your name will shine through the cracks in my brain,
i’ll save you then, for in my heart you will stay.
but now for the benefit of my own well being,
your space in my head prepares to greatly decrease.
you’ve slipped through my fingertips like endless sun-tinted beaches,
yet i will always crave you when they day time does cease.
Jul 26, 2015
Jul 26, 2015 at 10:18 PM UTC
(Arturo, Lucca, Miguel, Frederick, Marco, Cruz, Pedro and Ivan were playing cards and chess. Lucca, Cruz and Miguel started to smoke clay pipes.)
''Nice angled bowl with a coat of arms, '' said Lucca. ''Yes, '' said Cruz
While smoking and relaxing, ''where did you buy them, Lucca? ''
''This one is made in Holland- a way to liberate your muse.''
''Give new life to a broken heart, '' said Miguel, '' It's like scuba, ''
Laughed Lucca, '' Ivan, how could you avoid the army as a serf? ''
''As a yeoman having my own land, I had an accident.''
Cruz asked him, ’’Did you receive some support from a dwarf? ''
''I broke my left leg when I fell from my horse- a strange event.''
''Interesting! '' said Marco. ''You became a rich merchant
In the Ottoman Empire.'' ''Yes, I sold my land, '' smiled Ivan.
''You could go to Moscow, '' ''I didn't want to be a servant.''
'' I was a middleman in the fur trade, '' ''Let's enliven
This game with some wine! '' '' These cards are unique, '' said Pedro.
''This rare pictorial pack is made in London, '' said Marco.
Marco told Cruz, ''If you need new cards, I'll give you pronto.''
''Give me the most immoral hand, '' laughed Cruz, ''come in, Fargo! ''
(Fargo entered to bring the wine, which was served using glasses. Ibrahim brought dried fruits, nuts, biscuits and small cakes. The women had spent over an hour dressing for this meeting because it was customary for women to change their entire outfit for any event on the ship. Rosa, Geraldine and Erica were doing some needlework. Carla, Chiara and Pedra were reading some expensive books. Chiara chose to read a book written by Elena Piscopia, Carla was reading some philosophy by Mary Astell and Pedra liked the books written by Aphra Behn. Francesca started to paint and Bella was trying to play ‘’Capriccio stravagante’’ by the Italian composer Carlo Farina using a violin.)
Francesca said, '' The violin replaced the viol, ''
''The music written for it established its identity, ''
Said Rosa, ''I like the opera 'L'Orfeo' and its tale.''
''Through polyphony, Monteverdi has supremacy.''
Francesca continued, ''Chiara, what are you reading? ''
''A book about Christ written by the monk Laspergio and late
Translated by Elena Piscopia, a nun being
The first woman that graduated with a doctorate.''
Carla said, ''Francesca, what are you painting in that blue? ''
'' I'm not Caravaggio, still I paint a medusa.''
Carla replied, ''You used amazing hues, and it's sweet in view! ''
Chiara said, ''It's an image of the port of Siracusa! ''
(Francesca embraced Chiara.)
‘’ ''It's so lovely to see you together; you are good friends, ''
Said Geraldine while finishing her work, ''do you have children? ''
''I've married Arturo six years ago and our love ascends
After his long widowhood; Francesca is his daughter.''
Chiara took Geraldine's hand with a noble gesture
She told her that Arturo lost a fortune three months ago,
And this trip was offered by Lucca to change their life's texture.
''Maybe Francesca painted to petrify the time's flow.''
''Francesca is the sweetest child I've ever seen until now.
She's adorable in this purity of her mind.
She's shining like a star belonging to Ursa Major Plough,
And I love Arturo even in affairs he is so blind.''
(Arturo and Marco were the last passengers who left the room while talking. Arturo ended the conversation.)
‘’ Russia is a force needing an expansion quite quickly
But, unfortunately, her friends are not really her friends.
Pushing Russia, who is an honest power, clearly
Will turn the destiny of the whole world into dead ends.’’
(to be continued.....)
Poem by Marieta Maglas
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 6:36 PM UTC
I now know why you drove
on those dark winding roads.
the fear kicks in, your troubles
disappear and the only focus
is staying in between two yellow lines;
perfectly parallel
like you and I.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 6:41 PM UTC
*“The longing in our faces cannot end until both shores unite, yours and mine…”
-- Virgil Suàrez*
Sky Deck, Promenade
You’ve got me: at anchor, arched back over the deck rail, swimsuit slipped to the side, I’m strolling your shoreline, thinking teeth, tongue and technique. Thinking about the worthy circumstances under which I could allow myself
. . .
to drown here with you.
Observation Deck, Tiki Bar
The making of a luxury cruise ship is always also the making of a vast, well-haunted wreck. The Accident, a promise, not unlike Death’s. This is axiom, accelerated by upper middle class leisure trends and the modern misunderstanding of the word “travel." It's five o'clock somewhere,
. . .
it's a matter of time.
Upper Deck, The Casino
It might not be cool to think about the Accident on a cruise ship. To whisper “Titanic” under the breath on the deck, is like “Macbeth” murmured in the wings. But the wreckage awaits, people! A tidal guarantee:
. . .
we verge always on crashing.
Main Deck, The Spa
Cruise ships make beautiful reefs. Deck chairs calcified by culling. Drowned halls streaked with schools of silvery maxi-dressed sorority fishes flashing their empty ghostgirl glares.
. . .
The demise is in the design.
Deck 5, Main Dining Room
A good quick cry in your cabin’s matchbox bathroom, we’ve found, calms the seasickness within. Or, maybe it’s just the gin. So wanders me (engulfed in you) on the shore. Death’s sweet certainty scummy on my tongue, I want to ask you how it tastes,
. . .
we break for air.
Deck 6, Executive Suite Balcony
I map your profile. Or I try. I look for a crag to sweep my lingering thoughts of lifeboats beneath. Why me, anyway? I’m no angelfish. I am nothing (almost.) A spray of white noise in the night’s endless ink. A mouthful of seafoam spat off the stern. I am the lowest of poets with a cruel patchy sunburn,
. . .
I am slurring.
Deck 7, Slightly Smaller Luxury Suite Balcony
A gale catches my blouse in brief breeze-love. An Accident, momentous, sprays me in sea salted understanding—it pools in the kissprints that you left in my sand. Maybe I want me too. Maybe drowning isn't so bad. I let your wake flood the hull,
. . .
and together we swell.
Deck 8, Emergency Exit Stairwell
But the lifeboats linger. The Accident is pending, and from some recess in me, unheard before, the false urgency of the gull’s squawk wails. Within the invention of the ****** lies the invention of the broken ****** Within the invention of the heart, lies
. . .
the invention of poetry.
Deck 9, Economy Cabin 902
The surf beats on, our maps unchanged. I sink into bed alone, abuzz. Men are predictable fishes. The Accident barnacles me over with the stuff of graveyards. I am sorry for pocketing these stones. For thinking that I could walk into the surf, that I could sink with you, with any grace. I take no pride in this rum-soaked wreck, these postcard views ***** in triangle trade residue. A curse, a cruise,
. . .
an all-inclusive escape.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC