"dinghy" poems
there was a little hedgehog of the pilot sort
to fly an helicopter was his only thought
flying in the sky all along the sea
an helicopter pilot he just long to be.
he booked some flying lessons at an airport near by
so he could get his wings once he learnt to fly.
hedgehog past his test now he could fly alone
in an helcopter flying on his own
now hedgehog he was ready and headed for the sky
high above the clouds he began to fly
suddenly he saw what looked like a flare
flying past his window gave him quite a scare.
hedgehog circled round to see what it could be
there he saw dinghy floating in the sea.
it was his friend the badger he was in distress
badger was in trouble and in such a mess
hedgehog he got closer he was very brave
and his friend the badger hedghog he would save.
he dropped down a line to his little friend
badger he grabbed hold and hung on to the end
hedgehog pulled him up and pulled his friend inside
then in his helicopter hedgehog began to glide.
he had saved the badger he was safe once more
flew him back to land to the safety of the shore
hedghog waved goodbye then he flew away
and his still a pilot to this very day
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
Don't deflect my insecurities
Acknowledge them for they are real
Don't brush aside my inadequacies
I can't help the way I feel
Hugging myself close, searching for reassurance
Through tear-stained glass I grief strickenly see
Seemingly I've lost my tight-rope balance
Clambering up ever so desperately
May think I'm wilful
Because I often get consumed
Don't judge me unstable
Just dormant emotions exhumed
Place a palm against my chest
Between sobs, my heart beats strong
Laying my turbid mind to rest
As I whisper me the comfort that I long
Don't be afraid of me
I know I tend to get lost
Alone in my storm swept dinghy
Susceptible to the chills of frost
I can't control, I get carried away
With the dream I'm set to pursue
I can't curb or hold myself at bay
I'm weak because I haven't got a clue...
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
there was a little hedgehog of the pilot sort
to fly an helicopter was his only thought
flying in the sky all along the sea
an helicopter pilot he just long to be.
he booked some flying lessons at an airport near by
so he could get his wings once he learnt to fly.
hedgehog past his test now he could fly alone
in an helcopter flying on his own
now hedgehog he was ready and headed for the sky
high above the clouds he began to fly
suddenly he saw what looked like a flare
flying past his window gave him quite a scare.
hedgehog circled round to see what it could be
there he saw dinghy floating in the sea.
it was his friend the badger he was in distress
badger was in trouble and in such a mess.
hedgehog he got closer he was very brave
and his friend the badger hedghog he would save.
he dropped down a line to his little friend
badger he grabbed hold and hung on to the end
hedgehog pulled him up and pulled his friend aboard
then in to the air hedgehog quickly soared
he had saved the badger.he was safe once more
flew him back to land to the safety of the shore
hedghog waved goodbye then he flew away
and his still a pilot to this very day
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
When it comes to matters of the heart
it pays to be both wise and smart.
Be proactive and take care
of vulnerable hearts who take Love’s dare.
Perhaps a stress test would be smart
before old Cupid slings his dart.
Be sure your pulse is strong and steady
Not weak and racing and unready
Take Flax seed oil as a precaution,
before you dip into that Ocean
besides the undertow of emotion.
The mermaids that beset your dinghy
may tend to be a little clingy
The sea of love is cold, I’ve found
Tho oft I’ve floundered, I’ve never drowned
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 9:56 PM UTC
Alone I sail across the formidable sea,
Many men have drowned in this stormy weather!
Will the waves devour me to my death?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
My mind is fatigued by feeling of doubts
As my body has fought many hours to survive
And navigate the dinghy in search of land-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
Shivering silently in the darkness
My spirit crushed by the ravenous rain!
Should I surrender to the sea of pain?
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
In the brink of suffering and strife,
I realise I am powerless against nature-
Only heaven can bless me with the breath of life.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
In the chaos, I made a personal prayer
And felt my soul submit to a serene state
As I ask the Lord to decide my fate-
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
For the first time in my vulnerable state-
I felt the love of the Lord embrace my spirit
And all the fears and doubts dissipate –
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
I realise life should move in a motion
Where love tames the wild weather of life
And relinquish all dark emotions-
So the force of the Wind of Destiny can awake!
With this new knowledge,
My spirit renews with vibrant vigour
As the truth of life finally been acknowledge
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!
The sun wakes up from her sleep
The waves gently rocks the sail boat
The cloud calms down from her weep.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!
I feel my spirit soar
Like seagulls roaming across the sky
For I finally tasted the joy of God’s grace.
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!
What lands shall be discovered?
I do not know what tomorrow will behold
Only courage and determination it will be uncovered
The force of the Wind of Destiny has awaken!
Staring sentimentally at the Sunrise
I feel the fiery breaths of the wind
Blowing my sail boat across the vast ocean.
Where will the Wind of Destiny lead me?
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
*blistering day shuns a walk
all flock to recycled air-con of malls
few venture out* . . .
1.
walk along a mountain path
dislike snakes
wear heavy ankle-boots
rough route
craggy stones
grow tired
2.
head on stone
fall into drowsy slumber
baking brains gathering aches
3.
huge mountain appears
espy a cut opening along the side
a welcoming slit
enter slowly
step by step
seems to brook entry to no more
wonder what calls inside
4.
distant drumming
not afraid
joy fills supreme
reducing epicenter
gentle hands touch and pull in
negating every fear
melting away bleak thoughts
sink deeper into the earth
down . . . down . . . down
into cavities unknown
follow secret canal away from here
5.
sweetest eyes greet and kiss
fall into soft furrows
carried along canal of warmth
close the eyes
fall in heart with glowing ambience
subtle humming felt beneath the soles
sweetest honey-lake
deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper
sublime cocoon - always dreamt of
what supreme bliss
falls in lap of bearer
6.
all cares washed away
known memories seem to float off
as a dinghy to a waterfall
lost over that lip
free fall
free fall
conscience takes a bobbing nap
on waves which lull the senses
into drifting buoy
as conscious dips
utter serenity
spirit moves freely
totally unencumbered
/ /
[awareness - jolted - sudden - open
as corporeal fetters take hold once more
teeter into rude awakening
rub eyes to verify
faculties catapulting in greedy succession
/ /
find a hessian bag on rock
half-afraid to check inside
seemingly empty
lift the edge and peer inside
/ /
the most silent rainbow of inner dreams
long-forgotten wishes flow
into being
as rains come down]
/ /
*no more fear.. again
no more tension
no answering to
no deprivation
no derision
two pure doves hover
quite high
a pale-blue
buoy ~
the only signs of hope
blistering judgment dissolves
beautiful buoy floating
a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal
away...
on an endless ocean of calm*
S T, 20 August 2013
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:54 AM UTC
Sleep and death, the dusky eagles
Around this head swoop all night long;
Eternity’s icy wave
Would swallow the golden image
Of man; against horrible reefs
His purple body is shattered.
And the dark voice laments
Over the sea.
Sister of stormy sadness,
Look a timid dinghy goes down
Under stars,
The silent face of the night
2.8k
I am in my beach house by the sea
Sat in the chair with a cup of weak tea.
The cup was cracked some years ago
Maybe I should replace it, I don’t know.
I might give the place a lick of paint I think
Perhaps a nice bright blue or shocking pink.
Oh, and I have to make a trip into the town
The dinghy needs looking at, I will get it down
The place smells fusty when I open up at start of year
And I expect everywhere to be slightly damp when I get here!
To be economical I save my old tea bags for next time
I have a cup of tea, look at that washing line.
The knife is a bit rusty and the milk tends to turn
Toaster’s a bit rusty and the bread’ll burn.
The other day a kid stood outside making fun with his mates
Pointing at me, laughing and swinging on my gates.
But I smiled because I’m proud of what I’ve got set up for me
This is all mine, my beach house by the sea.
I make sandwiches, cheese and pickle on white
Wrapped in newspaper, made previous night.
That’ll do me till it is time for my tea
Which I will enjoy in the beach house by the sea.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Strangers fall in love, zap arc light
others grab, finger dumb only to repel
those held most dear.
Seeing and sawing, gnawing ankles off in
polar bear trapped hugs.
You’ve heard this one before:
North pole lures south pole onto an ice floe, pushes her
with his toe out to sea.
SOS magnetic flux girdles her majesty.
She drags him, dinghy wed, out bound channel
past buoys and cruise ships and seals.
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 7:56 AM UTC
All the Barbies set adrift
in a dinghy small and pink,
smiling in that scary way
even when they start to sink,
“I just love sharks!” a Barbie said,
as one attacked and bit her head,
“Hey, wait for us, that looks like fun!”
said all the others, “Here we come!”
and pretty soon they all were dead.
Feb 7, 2012
Feb 7, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
Look up from grey, your stony walls,
Break with the sun, seasides beyond,
Even dreams can come true my heart,
Take one step into the song of the lark.
If I should stay, Cuillin Hills will weep,
End up bleating with black faced sheep,
Stoic on cairns, froze giant of Callanish,
Or gutted in harbour like some cuttlefish.
My mind is mournful, keens with winds,
O what choral fantasias we both'll sing,
Hymns north, west, south, easter terrain,
Thoughts' forsake, points the wind vane.
A fine stout dinghy awaits pure ravel,
My sorrows a mend upon that voyage,
Into the west, moon hid from maid sun,
Aye, ginger haired wrangler tae horizons.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 3:45 AM UTC
I lie-
Not from a beating heart, bleeding and breaking always
for the cynic in all of us, for the human spirit's relentless wane between birth and death,
*but from the bottom of a mind unburdened by feelings of empathy or loss I
hide* behind deep mahogany eyes, the ones you whispered
shone through to illuminate my soul which was a dinghy lost at sea, a quiet storm
or the full moon reflected off a placid lake at night.
If I were honest I'd tell you that I only see reflections of myself in others eyes, the world
a pallor shade of something not quite discernible and not quite good; I'd say
the lies I will never convince myself of are the truths you use to fall asleep at night.
You said I was enlightened. You said my mind was beautiful. You said
you wished you could see the world as I do.... The grass is not greener.
The scene from where I'm standing is dim and growing darker.
True love is... and it is truth, and my truth is a world of melancholy grays,
memories of all the things that have ever hurt and a forgiveness in which I hope to claim solace.
My love is: never forgetting that I've been undeserving; rising each morning
in a place devoid of hue or tint only to keep up appearances and expectations;
The beautiful lies I whisper as you drift off to sleep...
The lies I make you believe just to save you from the truth...
To to save you from me.
- because I love you.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 6:22 PM UTC
The room was very dark
The candle was the only
Source of light and hope
In her completely airless
Dungeon like home with
Every door & window shut
She was a poor aged widow
Abandoned by kith and kin
No one had the will or means
To support her with her ill health
The Sisters of Charity visited her
To give her, her daily bread
That night the candle flickered
Afraid she wondered why
There was no breeze at all
An eerie silence prevailed
Apart from the sound
Of her occasional wheeze
Suddenly her world lit up
She felt a strange presence
In the dark dinghy room
As her husband smiled lovingly
And taking her hands he led her
Out of her miserable prison forever
The next morning the shocked
Sisters of Charity found her dead
With the perfume of roses in the room
Feb 6, 2011
Feb 6, 2011 at 7:58 AM UTC
Three frozen nights in a row
Remind me that I’m cold.
Dinghy sheets with matching throws
Remind me that I don’t care.
Razor blades and waxless strips,
Tagged, cute underwear,
Sleepless sleeps and cereal—
Marking time.
Come here.
06.2011
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 10:16 PM UTC
I am the river bleeding rivulets at its mouth,
I am time, many branched.
I was a woman who came of heart, love, hope:
I was thrown out of my hearth.
Alone in this harsh winter, the broken woman works the coal in the shanty town. She is all toil and fate. She is, is but a footnote in our capital culture. She has no wealth and she has lost all.
No education worth a job. No salary worth a home. Age is not on her friendly side. So she goes abandoned by the river, discarded jewel.
She went home, back home to where her father came from. There they called her a foreigner, and said she did not belong. She was western in the east, and an oriental in the west. She did not belong.
She was sent here to these rugged mountains by a twist of fate. No one told her story. She was forgotten like a grave in the hills. Her wails are the whirlwinds that rise hooding mysteries up the slopes.
Un-clapped cymbal, wind chime, song bowl and ney, unsung songs that compete for attention. Time, many branched.
She won. Brave woman, she won. She fought her fate and said 'I will'. The fire in her eyes stoked people's hearts. They welcomed her home and called her 'Khedi'. She's a guide to adventurers who want to be lost.
I chose this timeline. I jumped in and ran my dinghy down this gorge and emerged into a world of sparkling light.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 8:45 PM UTC
Saw the bean pole and its roots
arguing outdoor with two oppressors
bean pole treated unfavourably
its on foreign soil doused in free milk
but reminded
its just another border crosser
from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Saw the bean pole housed
in nursery and greenhouse to propagate
now rooted anew its given nutrients
but it must do as ordered
for no matter what
its just another border crosser
from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Saw bean pole growing tendrils
leaves unfold green to catch sunshine
but now a puppet amongst others
who bend and shape at will
bean pole see that plant next to you
its taking your nutrients away
go block its sun
do as we say or else
just remember you're just another crosser
from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Bean pole will grow and bear fruits
on foreign soil there's milk and honey
but for as long as the sun shines
the chains and barbs will hold
bean pole is just a stick
carrying tendrils to grow the beans
eaten by those of the land
who to them will always be
just another border crosser
from a rubber dinghy from Calias
Aug 1, 2021
Aug 1, 2021 at 7:11 AM UTC
I've waited so long, I'm walking to you
If you'll walk to me by dawn.
I'll give you red diamonds and the black pearls
Give you something for your finger to have on
I'm standing in the street waiting for crunch time to calm me,
I thought I knew you better than this, I know you knew me better
Than you would ever let on.
The way you wore your father's Captain's uniform,
You are the stewardess and pilot both,
I'm the admiral of this flotilla racing across the Aegean to meet your coast,
But often it seems I'm rowing a dinghy into the arms of the storm of your ghost.
Meet me in Palo Alto
Where the devil's giving me dollar for dollar on my soul.
Three thousand miles of traveling the brainwaves
To California, to San Francisco I go.
Some women wait, others they lie, some they hate just for sport
Some men find it troubling to live in their sins while the rest of us
Weather the storm.
Brown paper poetry scribbled on bags,
cut throat couplets, haikus and prose
Drinking and tripping and looking for junk
Just a collection of madness in its throes.
The petals have draped themselves over your body,
Can you taste God in your foils?
I'm just waiting to collide into the skin
My fortune said you'd bring
I can do without the tertiary friends like that red-headed *****
Megan whose company you keep.
When it comes to taking every piece of treason don't underestimate
Their thievery. They'll drink from your fountain of abuse, until their
Goblets sear their lips and burn away their tongues.
The universal language of O- blood lust, is just beginning to be enough.
Doctors say you've died, but your heart's on fire
I'm just a conflagration where there used to be a man
My veins sweat the poisons of quiet disease,
They can crash while we burn alive,
Sitting quietly together in Dolores Park,
While our toxicity kills us inside.
Let's just wait here and burn alive.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 9:03 AM UTC
some days i write
rafts and barks,
kayaks and corricles.
some days, a mere log,
set hopefully upon the water.
some days, dories and yachts
pinnaces, sloops, ketches and tugboats
on rare occassions,
great two and three masted ships,
schooners and galleons
filled with treasure..
more often scows, punts
and barges,
work man like and useful,
but not alway pretty
all painstakingly,
crafted...
with planks of words
nailed together with punctuation...
and caulked, with my soul...
sanded down by thought
polished, oiled and varnished,
with love...
then i set my sails,
my inspiration,
to the mast of poetry
and push off....
into the great white yonder....
hoping my xebec...my catarmaran, my dinghy...
my log...
will find a fellow waterman....
sailing, on this...
the ocean of words.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 2:57 PM UTC
what would life hold for me if I were the Sea?
liquid oxygen, so vast; lighthouses blinding me
at dusk the shipyards' ghosts come alive-- they break free
from the fog and silhouettes and all the weathered oak trees
the storms have arrived! you've met Katrina and Ike, I see
planning destruction and chaos and broken unity
throwing whiplashing waves and ***** seaweed,
splashing homes on my shores and debris at your feet
below my rippling surface: a myriad of pure glee
schools of rainbow fish, all swimming in threes
never travel too low-- to a certain degree
you'll be 1,000 leagues under the sea
signs of icebergs and whales, o', "beware of the beast"
stung on the tips of your fingers by my vicious coral reef
mermaids and their fathers' tridents, if you believe
plankton floating away with his secret recipe
guardians of the waters- my coast guards- the naval police
swimmers and divers who devour shrimp over beef
please hop in your dinghy and come visit me
I'm beautiful and deadly, my name is the Sea
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
Despite our sundry transportations, trains and planes,
I don't believe us to really be voyagers;
The years, months, ticks and tocks that come and go in vain,
Like Ulysses at sea, they're the real wanderers.
Doomed to drift on water, timeless, yet growing old,
Aye, never setting anchor, always setting sail
To the end of th'endless river, where lies fool's gold.
That's all the future is; just Melville's ***** whale.
When the boat is languid, we ask it to go faster,
When the boat is lively, we implore it to stop;
The ship capsizes, it had too many masters
But just go with the flow and it'll stay on top.
We couldn't captain a tiny rubber dinghy,
Time's the real pioneer, and we her passengers.
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
The road followed the base of the steep hillside,
trapped there by the river and a park of city pride,
the footsteps walked along roadway and sidewalk,
as both young and old, converse and talked,
there are less
people now,
but every one walks the walk
that overlooks
the Columbia River, both life giver
and a taker,
people fish the river, above the plant, some
even float,
at a park named Binghy
in hip-waders with a tube dinghy
casting their lines with flies tied, methods successful true and tried.
I have walked that same place
on many, many school days,
I have since walked more steps
more miles...much much more,
but every time I walk there,
I am once again on my way to school,
some bullies took me for a fool,
yet
I am here,
I did not fear
them then,
nor do I fear
those when
I meet them these days,
bullies do not change but technology does,
for I recognize that, as the cowards way,
and all I have ever done is walk away.
Until it comes time to stand my ground.
©DWE072013
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
The thorns in my side
I try so hard to hide
with humor, cleverness, even kindness
but after so long they are well-planted
like seeds they’ve taken root.
I am a man full of grace and gratitude
even changes in attitude
I float on great waves
in my wooden dinghy
precarious atop mighty waters
and angels visit
take me into smooth azure lagoons
where I reside in peace
even serenity from time to time.
I weep in great sadness
occasional fits of despair
drowning there
I swim up to gulp for air
leap and glide into the light
breathe mercy in my flight
pray for courage and gumption
but discover
I cannot stay afloat alone
so with abandon I dive
into bright souls whose hands and hearts
reach down to rescue me.
Some of them are thorn people too
battered, broken, and rugged
who’ve found the courage to change
the things they could.
I guess these thorns are there
to make me come up for air
to give me the zephyr of humility
the certainty of a love
that save me.
Sep 6, 2021
Sep 6, 2021 at 1:23 PM UTC
The dinghy's bobbing helpless in the stream
The broken oars are futile 'gainst the force
The current pulling to the sea. The wind is blowing fro
Desperation searching for a course
And from the shore a shout, “Come on I'll save you
But you will have to pay a little fee
I don't want your money or possessions
All I want is you to think like me”
And from the other shore a darker voice
“I think you'll see this side is much more fun
All I want is never-ending gratitude
I can easily show you how it's done”
The wind was swirling, pressing on the dinghy
Pushing it from shore to rocky shore
Temptation to accept one or the other
Grew strong for fear of losing evermore
But wait, this dinghy's hull is sleek and smooth
Straight keel and mast above the haze
When sails are set it plays within the wind
Determined course to seas or sheltered bays
It's knowledge shapes the keel to slice the water
And courage 'gainst the storm to set the sails
And love that tills the rudder stays the course
With freedom jibe and tack among the perils
RC
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 11:01 AM UTC
Silence roars like a stormy sea and stirs the waters of the mind,
making nightmares and reality become intertwined.
All fears and insecurities come to life,
causing slashes with the knife.
They hit the mind like giant waves crashing against a dinghy
lost and alone in the middle of a wild sea.
Gasping for air as the waves crash down,
there is no wish of surviving - only the wish to drown.
Dripping blood and painful breath
are hoped to be the sign of death,
but opened eyes realize, unfortunately,
despite how real it all may seem,
death was just an evil dream.
Scars are proof of all the pain that will surely come again
to embed how it feels to know that all the nightmares were real.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:21 AM UTC
I am too long
Outside a boat,
Too long away from the
Tip and shimmy
Of a dinghy hull,
The joyous swoop
Of a hull under sail,
Too long since my
Hand rested upon
A tiller,
Felt those five essentials
Work in balance to
Place no load
Nor need a weather helm,
Too long away from that
Which brooks no
Office politics,
No lovers tiff
Nor household chore,
Just pleased to carry me
By wind away from shore
But soon and soon
No matter the weather,
Be it storm or calm,
Sun or snow or rain,
Even frozen lake won't
Stymie my day,
For I shall sail,
And when that wood
Which bears me
Is a diamond coffin,
And life has left my body,
Be ye certain that somewhere,
God willing,
My soul is sailing still
Dec 29, 2021
Dec 29, 2021 at 6:13 PM UTC