"bowline" poems - Hello Poetry

midnights still find me retracing the moments that led to our thousand lakeside kisses; they were secrets left in a summer dream. each second — a bowline knot leading straight to our late night drives and vehicle breakdowns and last minute goodbyes at the break of dawn. midnights still find me sleeping next to a shoebox of the books you left; i still hear your voice when i read the lines of your favorite paragraphs the clock hands, mocking, leading me through a maze of memories and parking lot conversations. midnights still find me rewriting histories with resin-pressed flowers, maybe the petals will point to where i started losing you — and maybe it's in every direction. the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs leading to road trips and to all the bus stops we missed, kissing; now i still miss my stop without your lips next to mine. and midnights still find me writing poems like these but clearly, you're too far off for these words to reach. and now, midnights still find me wanting you back. and 'til now, midnights still find you gone.

0

Aug 22, 2019

Aug 22, 2019 at 7:52 AM UTC

femininedeath

hiraeth

midnights still find me retracing the moments that led to our thousand lakeside kisses; they were secrets left in a summer dream. each second — a bowline knot leading straight to our late night drives and vehicle breakdowns and last minute goodbyes at the break of dawn. midnights still find me sleeping next to a shoebox of the books you left; i still hear your voice when i read the lines of your favorite paragraphs the clock hands, mocking, leading me through a maze of memories and parking lot conversations. midnights still find me rewriting histories with resin-pressed flowers, maybe the petals will point to where i started losing you — and maybe it's in every direction. the black, bold numbers have become my crumbs leading to road trips and to all the bus stops we missed, kissing; now i still miss my stop without your lips next to mine. and midnights still find me writing poems like these but clearly, you're too far off for these words to reach. and now, midnights still find me wanting you back. and 'til now, midnights still find you gone.

35

(I Could Not Knot a Knot.) My tale is one of tortuous frustration, when two ropes caused me aggravation, and my every effort resulted in a situation that left me in a state of angry indignation! Oh, what a knotty problem I had got, when I found I could not knot a needed knot! Though needing help on how to knot a knot, no one I knew, knew how to knot my needed knot! I had two short ropes - which I’d a need to knot, and which I’d knot together with a special knot, but it never worked, for the knot did not knot, and my knot came undone! I felt such a clot! Firstly, I took the ropes, which I twisted tight together, but still the end result, was not right, for when I tugged, the knot, not only fell apart, but showed no sign of a knot! Making a fresh start, I took one rope, and placed it firmly under the other. This was so easy, I did wonder if my actions should have been reversed, for it too fell apart! Oh, how I cursed! Seems tying knots is not for faint hearts, for any knot, that’s not knotted, soon parts when it’s put to the test! That I’m not a knot expert, you can tell. Truly, my forte is not that of being very good at tying knots, for I do not understand what knots need, to keep them from falling apart! Tying a knot right, right from the start, is important, and that’s why my knot was not reliable, but why I did not understand. Yes, I’ve tied many knots. but they’re knots known as Granny Knots. Other knots are what folks call a Slip Knot. Then there’s the Turk’s Head - a special knot, as is the Cat’s Paw, Clove Hitch,and Bowline. Truth to tell, - none of these resembles mine! Then there’s a Timber Hitch, which is a knot that truly puzzles me, and not an easy knot to knot! There’s many other knots, that need the greatest skill, such as the Hangman’s Knot - a knot that’s made to **** Whilst the sheepshank? That’s a tricky one to see! So many knots, but they’re not knots for me. Methinks of all the knots, the one true knot for me, is the “Lover’s Knot”, which I have tied successfully! Rhymer. April 24th, 2018

0

Apr 24, 2018

Apr 24, 2018 at 4:41 PM UTC

denis-barter

A Knotty Problem!

(I Could Not Knot a Knot.) My tale is one of tortuous frustration, when two ropes caused me aggravation, and my every effort resulted in a situation that left me in a state of angry indignation! Oh, what a knotty problem I had got, when I found I could not knot a needed knot! Though needing help on how to knot a knot, no one I knew, knew how to knot my needed knot! I had two short ropes - which I’d a need to knot, and which I’d knot together with a special knot, but it never worked, for the knot did not knot, and my knot came undone! I felt such a clot! Firstly, I took the ropes, which I twisted tight together, but still the end result, was not right, for when I tugged, the knot, not only fell apart, but showed no sign of a knot! Making a fresh start, I took one rope, and placed it firmly under the other. This was so easy, I did wonder if my actions should have been reversed, for it too fell apart! Oh, how I cursed! Seems tying knots is not for faint hearts, for any knot, that’s not knotted, soon parts when it’s put to the test! That I’m not a knot expert, you can tell. Truly, my forte is not that of being very good at tying knots, for I do not understand what knots need, to keep them from falling apart! Tying a knot right, right from the start, is important, and that’s why my knot was not reliable, but why I did not understand. Yes, I’ve tied many knots. but they’re knots known as Granny Knots. Other knots are what folks call a Slip Knot. Then there’s the Turk’s Head - a special knot, as is the Cat’s Paw, Clove Hitch,and Bowline. Truth to tell, - none of these resembles mine! Then there’s a Timber Hitch, which is a knot that truly puzzles me, and not an easy knot to knot! There’s many other knots, that need the greatest skill, such as the Hangman’s Knot - a knot that’s made to **** Whilst the sheepshank? That’s a tricky one to see! So many knots, but they’re not knots for me. Methinks of all the knots, the one true knot for me, is the “Lover’s Knot”, which I have tied successfully! Rhymer. April 24th, 2018

46

Dry veins branch the dead gulch cinder cones set on a marble tan scape fanning sands sketch ephemeral fossil plates fold under columns of gray Mountain back steep at the crevasse sinkhole spots form on parallel nine sulfur pipe stems from molten ash withered shrubs and crumbling spines silt fields cover the foothills swayback shed near the Whipple tree barn tumbledown shacks form the patchwork from goat canyon ranch to big bison farm Salt lakes fractured in amber sickle-bush cut at the bowline knot a half-moon traced by the viper oxbow streams and valley grot

0

Feb 13, 2019

Feb 13, 2019 at 1:43 PM UTC

ck-baker

The Foothills of Colima

Dry veins branch the dead gulch cinder cones set on a marble tan scape fanning sands sketch ephemeral fossil plates fold under columns of gray Mountain back steep at the crevasse sinkhole spots form on parallel nine sulfur pipe stems from molten ash withered shrubs and crumbling spines silt fields cover the foothills swayback shed near the Whipple tree barn tumbledown shacks form the patchwork from goat canyon ranch to big bison farm Salt lakes fractured in amber sickle-bush cut at the bowline knot a half-moon traced by the viper oxbow streams and valley grot

16

lately // i’ve been making a noose of my own heartstrings // but my father is a fisherman who taught me that the best knots don’t slip // so i carry a bowline in my pocket for security and a tangled mess of forevers on my sleeve. But I’ve also been tying anchor bends since i realized my grip was not equal to atlas’ shoulders. And what a cruel paradox that is // to think that a god can carry the earth beneath our feet but our hands // molded from clay and mud in the same image //could never be enough of a last resort to anchor our hearts in our chests. so the loophole here, so to speak, is the anchor bend knot // but! // you know what’s funny about loopholes actually?? // you see, they were made to allow arrows to be shot from an opening // but the structure of that opening prevents counter arrows from being shot back in. such an invention is why it’s always been nearly impossible to storm a castle’s wall and my, // have many a noble men fallen at the feet of such entrances. so nowadays, i carry my trusty bowline //alongside the endless loopholes of those old-fashioned anchor bends. however, I’m sure you know that the bowline is regarded as “the knot of all knots” right? it’s good for tying just about anything without give. but the first time i ever went sailing // i learned about the round turn and two half hitches. this knot is pretty cool because the more tension you apply to the rope, the tighter the knot will get // highly reliable for most things. i guess the irony here is that // i am personally, most identifiable with this knot. i don’t really ever use it. i am not a sailor or a fishermen. but i do have a really bad tendency of fastening myself to things that have a lot of pull. the tightening tension of it is similar to the mythical 13 knots in a hangman’s noose and what an incredibly genius stroke of engineering. to think that the masterful art of knot-tying comes down to the basic idea that a knot will hold under tension is simply and utterly graceful without fault. but here’s the thing; as soon as i learned to tie a knot that won’t slip, i taught myself the hangman’s knot: a knot that essentially slips, but still holds merciless tension around its victim. i’ve been tying nooses with what causes me the most pain. with what bleeds the most love // but as the one and only descendant of my father, the great fisher king, i am starting to learn that if the knot slips, you cut the line and start again.

0

Aug 13, 2018

Aug 13, 2018 at 10:14 PM UTC

dss

the greatest lesson my father ever taught me

lately // i’ve been making a noose of my own heartstrings // but my father is a fisherman who taught me that the best knots don’t slip // so i carry a bowline in my pocket for security and a tangled mess of forevers on my sleeve. But I’ve also been tying anchor bends since i realized my grip was not equal to atlas’ shoulders. And what a cruel paradox that is // to think that a god can carry the earth beneath our feet but our hands // molded from clay and mud in the same image //could never be enough of a last resort to anchor our hearts in our chests. so the loophole here, so to speak, is the anchor bend knot // but! // you know what’s funny about loopholes actually?? // you see, they were made to allow arrows to be shot from an opening // but the structure of that opening prevents counter arrows from being shot back in. such an invention is why it’s always been nearly impossible to storm a castle’s wall and my, // have many a noble men fallen at the feet of such entrances. so nowadays, i carry my trusty bowline //alongside the endless loopholes of those old-fashioned anchor bends. however, I’m sure you know that the bowline is regarded as “the knot of all knots” right? it’s good for tying just about anything without give. but the first time i ever went sailing // i learned about the round turn and two half hitches. this knot is pretty cool because the more tension you apply to the rope, the tighter the knot will get // highly reliable for most things. i guess the irony here is that // i am personally, most identifiable with this knot. i don’t really ever use it. i am not a sailor or a fishermen. but i do have a really bad tendency of fastening myself to things that have a lot of pull. the tightening tension of it is similar to the mythical 13 knots in a hangman’s noose and what an incredibly genius stroke of engineering. to think that the masterful art of knot-tying comes down to the basic idea that a knot will hold under tension is simply and utterly graceful without fault. but here’s the thing; as soon as i learned to tie a knot that won’t slip, i taught myself the hangman’s knot: a knot that essentially slips, but still holds merciless tension around its victim. i’ve been tying nooses with what causes me the most pain. with what bleeds the most love // but as the one and only descendant of my father, the great fisher king, i am starting to learn that if the knot slips, you cut the line and start again.

31

I'd like to paint you in an atrium of colorful echoes zinging past your face like hummingbirds add in a touch of forest green, the murky-gray lake water, white triangles sketched for carefree sails burnished by unusually honest conversation, only sky blue and gold for the looks thrown in each direction and inexplicable smiles a rainbow, a myriad for the future, but you stand alongside me as breathtaking landscape and no art could do that justice

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Feb 21, 2012

Feb 21, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC

samuel-the-poet

Bowline

I'd like to paint you in an atrium of colorful echoes zinging past your face like hummingbirds add in a touch of forest green, the murky-gray lake water, white triangles sketched for carefree sails burnished by unusually honest conversation, only sky blue and gold for the looks thrown in each direction and inexplicable smiles a rainbow, a myriad for the future, but you stand alongside me as breathtaking landscape and no art could do that justice

15

They say that there is one I at the heart of a storm. This is not true. There are two. Butterfly blue and Phoenix ash grey, The other molten wood full of firefly flicker. Looking in, Looking out. Moonlight cord taut between two like a bowline straining in the tide. The only glint in the earthly waves crashing, two points the only anchor.

0

Mar 15, 2015

Mar 15, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC

tinkerbell-smith

Hurricanes & Storms

They say that there is one I at the heart of a storm. This is not true. There are two. Butterfly blue and Phoenix ash grey, The other molten wood full of firefly flicker. Looking in, Looking out. Moonlight cord taut between two like a bowline straining in the tide. The only glint in the earthly waves crashing, two points the only anchor.

11

If language is a dead space ship between us if its a sleeping chicken instead of a casserole, if it's cold tea, a fake hug, if it gets lost in the corners of the ceilings and never reaches her heart if it can't ever remove the training wheels if it only knows dog days if it will always be a contender than we must start fires in the stars, with whatever we can and stop pretending we give a **** about accuracy or communication or being understood I don't want you to understand me! Who gives figs for stuff like that any more? I want you to set stars on fire in my name. I want you to carve the lines of my body into the bowline of a pirate ship I want you to not be able to leave the room tear the bread in half, don't return the library books don't ask what I think and don't stop asking me to dance anyway. Even if it's an old fashioned dilly. Even if I didn't wear your mother's dress, or ever can anything, even the beautiful tomatoes that covered the red clay. Ask me. No matter what I say.

0

Jan 14, 2012

Jan 14, 2012 at 1:49 PM UTC

natalie-marie-kinsey

The Dilly

If language is a dead space ship between us if its a sleeping chicken instead of a casserole, if it's cold tea, a fake hug, if it gets lost in the corners of the ceilings and never reaches her heart if it can't ever remove the training wheels if it only knows dog days if it will always be a contender than we must start fires in the stars, with whatever we can and stop pretending we give a **** about accuracy or communication or being understood I don't want you to understand me! Who gives figs for stuff like that any more? I want you to set stars on fire in my name. I want you to carve the lines of my body into the bowline of a pirate ship I want you to not be able to leave the room tear the bread in half, don't return the library books don't ask what I think and don't stop asking me to dance anyway. Even if it's an old fashioned dilly. Even if I didn't wear your mother's dress, or ever can anything, even the beautiful tomatoes that covered the red clay. Ask me. No matter what I say.

28

there was a lot of people in town to-day as the markets are always held on Sunday towns folk were scurrying around looking for this and that Mr Johnson was lucky enough to pick up a terry toweling hat the lady who lives at the end of Bowline Street bought floral covers to put on her kitchen seats the local vicar and his wife took home three black hens they left at around a quarter past ten Mrs McLean the markets organizer made scone and tea she asked me to join her under the elm trees there were people at the market I hadn't seen in a while twas very nice to catch a glimpse of their smiles perfect weather prevailed throughout the day everyone had plenty of money to array the markets are a highlight in our hamlet we're looking forward to the next one, you bet!

0

Jun 1, 2014

Jun 1, 2014 at 7:08 PM UTC

ElizabethSquires

The Markets

there was a lot of people in town to-day as the markets are always held on Sunday towns folk were scurrying around looking for this and that Mr Johnson was lucky enough to pick up a terry toweling hat the lady who lives at the end of Bowline Street bought floral covers to put on her kitchen seats the local vicar and his wife took home three black hens they left at around a quarter past ten Mrs McLean the markets organizer made scone and tea she asked me to join her under the elm trees there were people at the market I hadn't seen in a while twas very nice to catch a glimpse of their smiles perfect weather prevailed throughout the day everyone had plenty of money to array the markets are a highlight in our hamlet we're looking forward to the next one, you bet!

32

The first day we arrived you gave us all a piece of faded yellow rope "Keep this on your person at all times" Day in, day out Alpine butterfly (Secure the canoe so it won't fall off the trailer) Reef, figure eight (Simple stuff, multipurpose; the kids do this) Sheet bend (Connect two ropes with different diameters) Double fisherman (Kept it around my ankle so it wouldn't get lost) But thank god That the last knot I tied Before I left Was the one I was best at Bowline (Attached my heart to the sailing docks)

0

Feb 19, 2014

Feb 19, 2014 at 1:04 AM UTC

kelly-catherine

Tied Down

The first day we arrived you gave us all a piece of faded yellow rope "Keep this on your person at all times" Day in, day out Alpine butterfly (Secure the canoe so it won't fall off the trailer) Reef, figure eight (Simple stuff, multipurpose; the kids do this) Sheet bend (Connect two ropes with different diameters) Double fisherman (Kept it around my ankle so it wouldn't get lost) But thank god That the last knot I tied Before I left Was the one I was best at Bowline (Attached my heart to the sailing docks)

18

I lost something within you, Radiant, high-handed sea! A loss so great and true, I cannot let it be. Great heart of mine, stolen, When I sail first your deep blue, Winds had pulled my bowline, And filled my sails anew. And as the sea winds whipped The heart you took of mine, The bow had sharply tipped, Against horizon line. I merely skim the surface Of your lovely darkened deep, Search without a trace, For my heart you hide and keep. Everyday I leave the shore, Cast off into the sea, And with the journeys more and more, You become the heart of me.

0

Jan 21, 2014

Jan 21, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC

david-leger

A Return To The Sea

I lost something within you, Radiant, high-handed sea! A loss so great and true, I cannot let it be. Great heart of mine, stolen, When I sail first your deep blue, Winds had pulled my bowline, And filled my sails anew. And as the sea winds whipped The heart you took of mine, The bow had sharply tipped, Against horizon line. I merely skim the surface Of your lovely darkened deep, Search without a trace, For my heart you hide and keep. Everyday I leave the shore, Cast off into the sea, And with the journeys more and more, You become the heart of me.

20

Hastily, suddenly, plunging oars down in the pale sea. Glistening, expecting, his eyes shined anticipating. Bleached pale clear, shining near, jewellery sitting heavenly here. Can’t go back, t’face attack, waves outnumber the stars in the track. Bigger ships, faster ships, displaying greater workmanship Begin to shrink, as anchors sink, they look like grains of sand in a blink. Storms go in, he thinks of his kin, and anchors the boat, grazing his shin. Reef, clovehitch, a bowline itch, clutches his thumb like a tall stitch. Abruptly, in agony, he cuts his thumb so aimlessly. Blood spills out, near the trout, he jumps in the sea without any doubt. Deeper down, fetching his crown, he grabbed the pearl and screamed like a hound. His heart did ache, in the great lake, when he found out the orb was a fake.

0

Feb 24, 2019

Feb 24, 2019 at 3:54 AM UTC

JxSteel333

Drowning in Pride

Hastily, suddenly, plunging oars down in the pale sea. Glistening, expecting, his eyes shined anticipating. Bleached pale clear, shining near, jewellery sitting heavenly here. Can’t go back, t’face attack, waves outnumber the stars in the track. Bigger ships, faster ships, displaying greater workmanship Begin to shrink, as anchors sink, they look like grains of sand in a blink. Storms go in, he thinks of his kin, and anchors the boat, grazing his shin. Reef, clovehitch, a bowline itch, clutches his thumb like a tall stitch. Abruptly, in agony, he cuts his thumb so aimlessly. Blood spills out, near the trout, he jumps in the sea without any doubt. Deeper down, fetching his crown, he grabbed the pearl and screamed like a hound. His heart did ache, in the great lake, when he found out the orb was a fake.

24