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Purcy Flaherty Feb 2018
'Twas all so beautiful a sight,
A long summers night; The sacred stars were burning bright about our mother moon.

The wind filled the sails above the waves that sped us through the sailors tales and brought us to a deep lagoon.

We cast our nets out far and wide, then watched them sink below the tide, which rattled out a tune for me and you.

We hauled aboard the silver fish, to fill our bellies and our fists, then set off home like seagulls chirping tunes.

The wooden boat now tied about the key,
its tattered sail and rusty cleat,
tugs and tugs the rope upon the swell and gently whispers come to sea!
come to sea!
come to sea!
A little well used boat ried about a key
marla Apr 12
Boats arise in me
A need to escape.

The loud thud
Of collision
Still jolts my psyche
As I lay restless at night.

I didn't see his soul leave,
But I knew it was too late,
Even as I prayed
Through shocked tears.

That day;
That face;
That fear;
They haunt me
Eternally.
Kevin Aug 2018
An empty boat glides through a tide-less sea
Echos of thunderous silence reminisces the rowdy sailors once on board
Without fear they sailed across the dark waters
Without the knowledge of forthcoming doom they kept the spirits high
Navigation impaired by the wrath of silence, their abominable gaiety and preposterous hopes were muted for eternity
Life drained, flesh rotted, bones crumbled to dust, and the boat was filled with peaceful death
Though without an inhabitant it still continues to drift towards a predesitned chaos
Its calm trail behind disrupted by an impatient tranquility
Its still path ahead disallows all animations with an unfluent time
Yet it moves forward
Marco Bo Sep 2018
under this suburban sky
red stain on the dull gray, when you move away to your elsewhere
you revive
as a fish returning to the water after a short yet intense pain

for you I'm the bait
and the hook
and the fisherman too,
not in that order
in the order you decide
since you decide

you are elusive, you always look away and tighten your eyes
your words are lashes
I feel weak in your presence,
at the same time your fragility confuses me and it moves me
as a boat adrift in a lonely sea
...................
sotto questo cielo suburbano
macchia rossa su grigio opaco, quando ti muovi nel tuo altrove,

tu rivivi
come un pesce che ritorna in acqua dopo un'agonia breve ma intensa

per te io sono esca
amo ed anche  pescatore,
ma non in quell'ordine
nell'ordine in cui decidi
e tu decidi

sei inafferrabile, distogli sempre lo sguardo e stringi gli occhi
le tue parole sono staffilate
mi sento debole in tua presenza,
allo tempo stesso la tua fragilità mi confonde e mi commuove
come una  barca alla deriva in un solitario mare
..................

bajo este cielo suburbano
mancha roja en gris opaco, cuando te alejas a tu otro lugar,
tu revives

como un pez que regresa al agua después de un dolor breve pero intenso

yo soy cebo para ti
y gancho
y también  pescador
pero no en ese orden
en el orden en que tu decidas
y tu decides

eres evasiva, siempre mira hacia otro lado y cierras los ojos
tus palabras son latigazos
me siento débil en tu presencia,
al mismo tiempo, tu fragilidad me confunde y me conmueve
como un barco a la deriva en un solitario mar
Shofi Ahmed May 2017
A night owl in the harvest moon
was awake till the crack of the dawn
but wasn’t surfing online, wasn’t rowing
the boat in the digital river.
Deep down to a dreamweaving scene
that was, in musing, painstakingly creative.

Wait till you snap up a witty aphorism.
The darling buds of May will be in bloom.
The tickled pink nightingale too will
give out its voice, singing a song.
Save a copy and tweet it to all,
but do give us a demo, tell us a bit more.
Where does it shine and sizzle?
Where did the winter tuck away the rose?
This is a poem from my book Zero and One available on Amazon.
island poet May 2018
“Moby ****,”  Herman Melville

<•>

~for the lost at sea~

after a year of saltwater absence and abstinence,
return to the island caught between two land forks
surrounded by river-heading flows
bound for the ocean great joining

the Atlantic welcomes the fresh water fools,
bringing with them hopefully, but hopeless gifts of obeisances,
peace-offerings endeavoring to keep their infinite souls

sea accepts them then drowns the
warm newcomers in the unaccustomed
deep cold salinity, which
sometimes erodes
sometimes preserving
their former freshwater cold originality

I’m called to depart my beach shoreline  unarmed,
no kayak, sunfish or glass bottomed boat needed,
walk on water and my toes, ten eyes to see the bottom,
no depth perception limitation,
reading the floor’s topography,
millions of minion’s stories infinite,
many Munch screaming

god’s foot, heavy upon my shoulders,
a daytime travel guide, hired for me,
not a friendly travel companion,  nope,
God a pusher showing off a drug called deep water salvation,
designated for the masses, can handle large parties

my in-camera brain  eyes,
record everything for playback -
the lost and unburied, bone crossword puzzles

walk shore to ship, on soles to souls,
is this my new-summer nature welcome back greeting?

puzzled at the awesomeness of vastness,
conclude this clarification for me of the occluded-deep,
is a stern reminder of my insignificant existence,
my requirement to walk humbly, spare my sin of vanity, and
forgive my trespasses upon the lives of others

perhaps then the infinite of my soul perchance restored,
older visions clarified and future poems
will write themselves
and sea to it my predecessors
be better remembered

Memorial Day 2018
Lizzy Aug 2014
You are my wind
You are my sun
The blood in my veins
The bones to make me stand

I've been drowning
And i thought you were my life raft
I thought you were my island
My safe place to escape

But turning away from the water
Won't make it go away
Running from the sea
Won't make it less deep

I've grown so used to finding my boat
So used to hiding from the tide
I panicked when it wasn't there
Has my boat sailed away?
The panic gave me a cramp
Tied weights to me
And I began to sink faster

How could my boat do this?
How could it sail away?
But the more I missed my boat
The more I needed it to stay

But not as safety
Not as refuge
But a love to share
And laugh and grow

I still need my boat
But not like I did before
No more hiding
No more dry land
I need to swim

Because boats are fun
And great for days
But the sea is a beast
That no boat can match

No she doesn't care that I'm a mermaid
Who fell in love with a fisherman
She doesn't care I've spent too much time on dry land
I forgot how to use my fins

A mermaid that can't swim
What a pathetic life it is
But she's cruel
She wont keep the boats around

So don't forget how to swim
Don't forget how to use your fins
We are strong us mermaids
Making deals with sea witches
Seducing men to their death
All fine folk tales
But you have to believe the myth
Always been strong

Because regardless of what Disney said
I can't grow legs
I'll always be a mermaid
But what use is it if I can't swim

When I learn how to swim again
I hope my fisherman will come back
I hope he hasn't sailed too far away

When I'm on deck of our boat again
We will dance and sing
Maybe have dogs
And flowers to remind us of land
A piano in the dining room
And guitars lining the walls
Music will echo
They can hear us from land
The happy fisher and his happy mermaid
Living together again

But storms always come
Because that's how nature works
It rains
It snows
It storms
Than the sun returns

This time when the storm comes
And makes waves that could touch the moon
And I get thrown overboard
I won't forget how to swim

I'll play with the fish
Make friends with sharks
And await the return of my beautiful fisherman

But you will always be my wind
My sun
The air in my lungs

But soon I will have gills
So I can breath when the water comes
You can't be my fins anymore
You can't be my dry land
You can't save me from drowning
Because mermaids are free
But if you want
You can be free with me

So please return my beautiful sailor
And we can live on our happy boat
And I'll be one with the sea
Because this sea is a part of me
So this is super long and I'm actually gonna write a full explanation of it because yeah I feel like that's needed. So I have depression, and I used my boyfriend to hide from it. But that all crashed when my depression took over and I couldn't hide anymore, and I was mad. I was mad at him, at myself, at the world. So I flipped, and it pushed him away. Hopefully not forever but I feel like ****. But I needed it, I need this. Because I realized that hiding won't make the depression go away, it'll always find you. And when it does it comes on full force. And this time no matter how much he loves you, he won't be able to save you because depression is a beast. It's a monster beyond any comprehension and it will tear you apart. Now that it returned and stronger than ever, I couldn't be saved. And I was mad, why had he made it go away before but this time he can't? I was mad, didn't he love me? Than why can't he save me? Well guess what, it doesn't matter. Love is beautiful and love is strong, but nothing can cure you from a mental illness. I forgot that. And I had grown so used to being able to hide from it I forgot how to live with it. I forgot how to be my own warrior and to fight for myself. I'm not a ******* damsel in distress, I'm not a poor soul that needs saving. I'm a warrior, I've lived with it this far and forgetting how to fight will only get me killed. Depression is the sea, and I'm a mermaid that fell in love with a fisherman. I live in the sea, the sea is a part of me, like depression. And I can't run from it because it won't go away. This isn't a Disney movie where I can sell my voice for legs and run away from the sea. I can't, I have fins, it's the way I am. I have scars, that's who I am. I'm not a normal person, I can't **** it up and be fine, I'm sick. I can't grow legs and run away, I can't live on a boat. And there will always be storms, nature will never be sunny forever. Depression will come back fighting. And when you get thrown overboard and start to drown because you forgot how to swim, don't be mad at you fisherman. His boat got thrown by the storm too. I forgot how to balance my mind, how to find harmony with my mind, and live with my depression. So I flipped. And it's not his fault, he can't fight depression either, it's so much bigger than all of us. But I forgot that. And now I'm drowning in this storm of depression without my fisherman because I got mad. But now I know that I have to learn how to fight for myself, because storms will always come. And if I drown every time I'm gonna lose my fisherman. So swimming is the only option. He isn't a prince, or an angel, or a savior. He's just a fisherman, and I ******* love him. Our boat (our relationship) has sailed away for now, but I'm praying it'll return. When I see my fisherman again, I will remember how to swim. So when depression knocks me back into the ocean, I won't drown. I go with the waves until it calms, than I hop back our boat. But anyway, there's a lesson for ya. Don't rely on other people to save you from depression, because it's impossible. And don't get mad when you forget that. Anyone who read this far (props to you if you did) and suffers from depression as well, DONT FORGET HOW TO SWIM. We're not regular people, but not in a bad way! We have fins and live in the sea, we fight all her terrible waves and storms and keep swimming. Because mermaids are ******* strong as **** hell yeahhhhhhh. And if you're reading this and you're someone's fisherman (or fisher lady) meaning you're significant other suffers from depression, remember we're on this boat together and smooth sailing is not always a garuntee. So don't get mad at your mermaid when they lose it, the sea is just gettin a little crazy. Just remember, when they drown, you can't save them. Because depression (the sea) is stronger than anything, so don't feel bad. Don't feel like a bad boyfriend or girlfriend, don't feel like you're not good enough, all you have to do is wait for the storm to pass. Because you're only human and depression is a force much stronger than that. But human isn't bad, it's beautiful and perfect, hell yeah you a great fisherman. But fisherman cannot control the weather. So just wait out the storm. And Jesse, you're the best fisherman there is (I'm sorry that's so lame) and sometimes mermaids are stupid. But don't dock your boat because I'm learning how to swim again, and I won't forget when I get knocked overboard again. I love you always, and come around again, I'll be swimming just fine and ready to get back on our boat. I love you
Lewis Carroll rows a boat
   Gently down the stream,
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily:
   Life is but a dream.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat
   Way up in the sky.
Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily
   I am very high.
Invisible Feb 14
One of the biggest chances
To follow my dream
Was just given to me.
But I didn't take it.
Only because I was trying to be a good friend.
A good person.
For once,
Why couldn't I put myself first?
I didn't just miss the boat.
It's more like I gave it up.
Happy Valentine's Day....not so much for me....
zelda Dec 2018
i want to hear
your voice
when i'm alone
at night past two;

i want to ask
too many questions
but you don't
want me to;

i want to know
if she's still the one
but i already
figured out the truth.
dec 2018.
Shofi Ahmed Jul 2018
On the very edge the living earth
dared to replicate Queen Fathima
The Queen of Heaven’s footstep.
That way is the destination de jour
graced by thousands of prophets of God!

In the name of Allah she descended
on the Night of the Ascending.
From the Night of Measures unlike the rest
none can enumerate it yet an unnumbered zone
in the perfect geometrised transcended location.  

The earth steps in the gap making way for her:
The only asymmetric golden ratio.
Slips out to the symmetric prophet flock!
Sequenced in symmetric phi she moves on
in the veil, reveals her unique divine relation,
the front burner for sure is ever closer to God!

So pretty she is the paragon work of art
the sunrise amidst the eternal night.
Her beauty in her shadow is burning fire.
She is 'Zahra' pure light the luminary dynamo
the only one woman had no shadow!

The great women flocked and mirrored the earth.
Treading across every atom on that angle
perfectly aligned down the Moon.
Until those beneath the skin atoms
bang, explode, on approaching the behemoth,
the vibration beneath Fathima’s foot!

The ocean billows up
floating on the clouds.
Choreographed like a little dew
hanging low on the rose.
Just to drop down on that hot spot
like a cool honey drop.

Even the Moon on the horizon
fancies to sip from this drop.
Ah, the lunar punter is rowing down.
The sleeping beauty wakes up
eyes are on the silver dance.
Eying on every star in the night
the Moon is floating down.
The seven seas sing out in the dark
bubbling with exuberant fireflies
that would gleefully rock the moonlight boat
over to the cup of this pretty little drop.  

Poetry in motion is a sea on the ground
the same is known as the Moon in the sky!
The storylines jump ever more
on that way over the shady grove.
Painting the colour of the winds
the sky rains down on that spot
singing the sweetest title song.  

Never was a woman prophet of God
to the one primitive woman, the leading lady
'Sayeedatun Nessa' Queen Fathima
heaven is no secret, it is an open mirror!
For her heaven is made an open book
the first batch of houris came to be
tuning into the sounds of her toes.
The earth in its primitive water first moved on
bang, Big Bang, soon she drops in it her hair lock.
She's the hidden gem in the secret end of God!

For the planetary ebb and flow on the way heaven
the planet earth is the only stepping stone.
No matter how many times more it tries on
there will still be an unturned stone.
Until the very one woman, the original
the Queen Fathima steps on.

Her presence connects the dots
the nadir and zenith perfectly line up
intersect into one grand perfect circle.
She will close it with the pi once for all
without a gap spilling new decimal.
Putting it all on the map ‘as above, so below’,
all in all, like it's in pure scientia scenario.

Heaven will open its grand door
where the queen will stand on.
No more reverse engineering physically
the original, Fathima will step on,
on the last turned stone.
From the one great woman
paradise starts from here on
from beneath the mother’s foot!
ryn Nov 2014

i
    am
       a sea
           farer•a
                  rider of the
                         dwindling air...

one day my ailing boat would invite
the water•i will finally sink into
~ ~ ~~
oblivion's lair•~~ ~ ~
~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~  *~ ~
~~ ~~~ ~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~ ~~~~
~~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~~~ ~ ~~   ~~
~~ ~~ *•m y exis tenc e ~ ~ ~~  
    ~~ w ill then  be • but a we a k, ~
i ndis  cern ible... reflec  tion of my sel f
~   •  ~
                      ~     i' d notb e  free •but~
        ~    ~          t rapped i n abo x
                   ~   on a  lon g for-  ~~
              g o tte  n  ~
~    sh e ~
l  
f

.~
TheIdleOwl Jun 13
5
Anchored to the ground,
But free to float,
Is there a more peaceful existence,
Than that of a boat?
Please No
Please Go home
Please Let go of me
Please Don’t touch me
Please Go away
Please Don’t do this
Please I won’t tell anyone
Please Get off me
Please You’re hurting me
Please I’m bleeding
Please I can’t breathe
Please I can’t take it anymore
Please Stop
Please...

If only I was able to say what I was thinking
Then maybe I wouldn’t be sinking
Trying to stay afloat
But I can’t quite reach the boat
I am not a strong swimmer
The waves are getting higher
Tangled in the seaweed
Afraid to bleed
the fear of the sharks
Are eating me apart
Ashamed of being a fish
Who’s scared of being squished
If the same horrible event occurred to 5 different people, not one of the would have responded the exact same way.
No way is wrong!
Purcy Flaherty Mar 2018
A little green frog is trying to catch my eye!
A little green frog is trying to catch my eye!
It’s a tadpole-lite; it's lily lies,
It's sticky poison and feminine whiles,
A little green frog is trying to catch my eye!
-
Hoppity, hoppity, hoppity, drama!
-
A little green frog is trying to catch my ear!
A little green frog is trying to catch my ear!
It's mouth is full of flies and it's belly's full of lies.
A little green frog trying to catch my ear!
-
Hoppity, hoppity, hoppity, drama!
-
A little green frog is trying to catch my boat!
A little green frog is trying to stay afloat!
It's got two knocked knees and two bent legs,
a plastic smile and a crazy head.
A little green frog is trying to catch my boat!
-
Hoppity, hoppity, hoppity, drama!
-
A little green frog is trying to catch my eye!
A little green frog is trying to catch a ride!
It's up and down all night long;
splashing about in the water,
A little green frog's still tryin' to catch my ...
A little green frog's still tryin' to catch my...
A little green frog's tryin' to catch a ride.
There's no point in trying to engage with little green frogs!
They're quite mundane, just splashing about catching flys
please find the link to the song below
https://youtu.be/ScJiXD7map8
LearnfromBOBD Dec 2018
OluwaFisayomi my inamorata
If ever two were one, then surely we are.
If ever I love you dreamboat, yes I am’
I prized my love more than the whole mines of gold,
And all the wealth that the rich does hold’
My love is such that rivers cannot quench,
Nor like a recommended lens’
Our love for each other is clear, that no man can repay.
The heavens reward our truthfulness, I pray.
Then while we live in love let’s serve God,
That when we live no more, we live forever up’
Where are the stars that show us to our love, And we gon’ live our whole young old lives away In the joys of a living God’
Your body and soul are divine,
With a lovely fragrant with heavenly wine’
So kiss me Temi with your cold dry lips,
So I can hold you tight and sing you hymns’ Not what you think, but give me the love that so free please’
To my one and honey dreamboat
My life
K Balachandran Dec 2018
Night is a river,
The moon sails on her dream boat;
-Shambolic waters!
Lyn-Purcell Sep 2018
⭐                    ⭐                             ⭐                        ⭐                    ⭐
  ⭐                   ⭐                ⭐                     ⭐                     ⭐
⭐                     ⭐                   ⭐                                ⭐                           ⭐  

I'll                                          
confront     ­                                   
  all       of      my                                        
I N A D E Q U A C I E S                                        
by                     ­                   
⭐                                          
b                    ­                
r                                    
o         ­                               
a                                              
d                                          
e                                  
n                            
i                            
n                                
g                                      
⭐                                        
m                                
y                            
⭐                      
h         ­     
o              
r                  
  i                          
     z                                  
   o                              
n                
s      
   ⭐  
       w  
            i          
              t                
             h                      
⭐                
a            
⭐    
   ­ s
           e
                r
                  i
               e
          s
     ⭐  
o
f        
⭐        
c    
   h
         a
           l
       l
  e
n    
g        
   e        
  s
          ⭐

                                      To
                      ­                expand
                                      and polish
                                      my horizons
                                     as
                                  ⭐
                           a
                               ⭐
                                     g
                                        i
                     ­                       f
                                        ­t
                                  e
                           d
                      ⭐
                   w
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                                   ­ r
                                             d  
                                              s  
           ­                              m  
                                i    
                        t ­     
                h
                          ⭐

          
      
       ˚°◦                                                ⚫ ノ                                       ◦°˚    
      ˚°◦                                     (                                  ◦°˚   
    Sailing    upon   a  longboat  of dreams that   will  
                      bring   me    close   to  my  destination  to  a                    
                      auth­or, a poet that will touch and                      
        ◦°˚                inspire a generation                    ˚°◦
All I want to be a gifted wordsmith.
The power of the pen is the weapon I chose to express myself,
my heart, my pain and more.
Thank you so much for 204 followers, I'm very grateful for all of you!
(And I'm very aware that on a phone, the formatting will look messed up,
but it is fine on a laptop or tablet.)
I'll keep my ink flowing, no matter what.
Lyn ***
Logan Robertson Jul 2018
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***,
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.

Logan Robertson

7/25/2018
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