"flagship" poems
To a sky which showed no sign of light,
Black smoke was rising, from no other than a flagship which sailed across the stormy ocean, Nagato, ready to fight was however at ease.
Until we encountered two enemy ships, a Kongou and a Tirpitz.
Both of them, with a merciless sight fired everything they got, a hard decision was to be made, who shall hit us if we dodge, who shall not?
The Kongou, landed some hits as the sea consumed the others shells,
Just overpenned, lucky for us it seemed, until we re-adjust our angle,
What does the future hold for one who survived but couldn't protect her friends, as the sun no longer rises these memories return.
It didn't take long, the weakspot of one of them was their petty armor,
Kongou sank, spilling her tears into the water she was unable to escape from, another turn was made, it was the final battle, final hope,
Reparing some damage in the little time we had, Nagato drove like an absolute mad man, left, right continuesly just so our ship would not end up like their Kongou, our citadel was an easy target, after all.
Shells are to be exchanged, smoke escapes from our guns, this lady was refusing to let her life slip away until she at least do what she could, exhausted and almost out of ammo, we landed a lethal strike.
Watching the enemy ship slip away before our eyes, knowing that Nagato was to sail almost into the same fate made us then realise...
Even if the damage could be repaired and parts exchanged, brought anew and even if we make it back in one piece without capsizing:
Forever will be the marks of battle painted in her burnt, wounded steel.
~ Umi
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 8:14 AM UTC
[Being an humble address to Her Majesty's Naval advisers, who sold Nelson's old flagship to the Germans for a thousand pounds.]
WHO says the Nation's purse is lean,
Who fears for claim or bond or debt,
When all the glories that have been
Are scheduled as a cash asset?
If times are bleak and trade is slack,
If coal and cotton fail at last,
We've something left to barter yet--
Our glorious past.
There's many a crypt in which lies hid
The dust of statesman or of king;
There's Shakespeare's home to raise a bid,
And Milton's house its price would bring.
What for the sword that Cromwell drew?
What for Prince Edward's coat of mail?
What for our Saxon Alfred's tomb?
They're all for sale!
And stone and marble may be sold
Which serve no present daily need;
There's Edward's Windsor, labelled old,
And Wolsey's palace, guaranteed.
St. Clement Danes and fifty fanes,
The Tower and the Temple grounds;
How much for these? Just price them, please,
In British pounds.
You hucksters, have you still to learn,
The things which money will not buy?
Can you not read that, cold and stern
As we may be, there still does lie
Deep in our hearts a hungry love
For what concerns our island story?
We sell our work -- perchance our lives,
But not our glory.
Go barter to the knacker's yard
The steed that has outlived its time!
Send hungry to the pauper ward
The man who served you in his prime!
But when you touch the Nation's store,
Be broad your mind and tight your grip.
Take heed! And bring us back once more
Our Nelson's ship.
And if no mooring can be found
In all our harbours near or far,
Then tow the old three-decker round
To where the deep-sea soundings are;
There, with her pennon flying clear,
And with her ensign lashed peak high,
Sink her a thousand fathoms sheer.
There let her lie!
3.2k
Passing Tweetsie on my way home from work.
In the Food Lion, low-calorie chicken soup
cans under tinny lights.
Sick-green avocados and riding-hood bacon
celebrated the day all your shoes moved in.
Can't we pair those together again?
The blank space on the floor
like a good friend's face seen
without glasses,
washed out.
Frustratingly,
the smell of my own laundry.
mi colada es su colada
Ha!
By the pond, the gazebo we never spent time in
but might have.
The dusk-dark evergreens with delicate lace tips
like spidery lingerie
leggings ripped wide open,
lingering,
recovered from the trash can.
Rainbow polka-dot gift wrap
on my light-blue chest,
flagship of her left-behinds;
A tawny feather earring, the lonely fore-mast
lacking a mate
and
Demure winter-cabin-smile, framed:
green scarf turned seaweed,
the face-down figurehead drowns.
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
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Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 7:25 AM UTC
Which do you prefer, Haunted Girl-
the city street sidewalk churned
up by heel and brogue
or,
the sweet-talk waves of home?
Settle in the sand while fingers
meld and touch the palms of hands,
let the hour glass beach pass
time between our toes,
have an appetite for shallow
dives amongst wave-tip whites;
whipped up by swell’s whisk,
stare until we sing for the dead men,
fire flares of affection in the form of kisses!
use a tool to sketch our future floor plan,
comment upon the Moroccan oil hair tan,
watch that man trace the coast of France upon his wife’s thigh;
hear her cry as he reaches Cherbourg,
talk of Vienna flagship stores:
forerunner fashion you make look lace,
mention the trees and the shipwrecks,
past relationship breakups and upcoming commitments,
describe, in detail, what you hope to happen
and what happens to that hope.
Fly back home.
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 3:04 PM UTC
A two two tier system of health is established
now you are asked private or NHS.
This could determine who lives or dies
relying on those with funds.
The quality of treatment depends on paying
if none your only hope is praying!
NHS patients it's a lucky dip for treatment
private no expense spared.
No matter how dedicated the doctors maybe
money is the pass code.
Pay avoid the endless hours on a waiting trolley
instant service if flash the lolly!
No more the fare care for all who enter within
moral has long been exhausted.
By the excessive dabbling of many governments
where no parliamentarian is poor.
And had no knowledge of the staffs dedication
now wanting their eradication!
With an amazing crew who were not listened to
or giving them back up or respect!
The health service now in the United kingdom
is doomed to be for the rich!
The rest of us will wait forever for care
that no longer can be there!
Once the worlds flagship for health care
now the example to be aware!
The Foureyed Poet.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
Followers of Sfera would be glad to know that the Spanish fashion brand recently launched its Fall-Winter 2016 collection at its flagship store in SM Makati.
The event, held in partnership with the Spanish Chamber of Commerce in the Philippines (La Camara Manila), had the local Spanish community and members of the diplomatic corps among the guests.
They were treated to a fabulous showcase of the collection, along with cocktails and an exciting shopping experience.
In attendance were Maria Jose Carrasco, wife of Spanish Ambassador Luis Antonio Calvo, Pedro Pascual of the Commercial Office of the Embassy of Spain, Alfredo Roca, vice president external of La Camara Manila.
Sfera, part of Madrid’s renowned El Corte Ingles Group of Companies, opened its first store in Asia in the Philippines in 2014, on the second floor of The SM Store Makati. In 2015, it opened more branches—on the second level of Building B in SM Megamall, and on the upper ground floor of SM Seaside City Cebu.
September 2016 saw its first department store corner at The SM Store in Aura Premier.
This premium fast-fashion brand offers men’s and women’s wear, and is known for its ability to stay on-trend every season while maintaining good-quality clothing and affordability.
From SM, heading to the opposite side of town, we were treated to a gastronomic symphony at one of our favorite restaurants, Salvatore Cuomo.
The six-course dinner, prepared by chef Salvatore Cuomo himself, served as a sneak peek of his new dishes on the menu.
The Italian culinary titan has narrowed the boundaries between innovation and fine taste. The meal was a roller-coaster of dynamic flavors and textures—an array of small bites paired with light aperitif for starters, washed down with Italian and French medium-bodied red and white wines.
In true Salvatore Cuomo fashion, the ingredients used in the entire dinner were thoughtfully selected and sourced from the best producers in Europe and Asia.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-sydney | www.marieaustralia.com/red-carpet-celebrity-dresses
Jan 17, 2017
Jan 17, 2017 at 10:20 PM UTC
A wind cold and bitter blows in from the west
and stirs up old storms in you. May we suggest
one cure for the lonely most highly regard -
a tour of the local relation-shipyard.
Our newer relation-ships being built daily
can catch the wind nicely, their sails snapping gaily.
But others we've built have met rougher sailing;
our flagship line shows up a few of our failings.
The first liner christened, the R.S. Obsession,
sank during a storm in the Sea of Depression.
The Intimate's hull you'll see later today
aground on the shoals of Old Fantasy Bay.
The pilot of Dreamboat just plain lost his sense;
ran full speed ahead through the Reef of Defense.
Only one came back whole, the relation-ship Reason;
she's in dry-dock now after only one season.
We're taking the trouble to change her design
and model her after our new Friendship line.
Our new Friendships are (if you'll pardon the gloating)
the match of any relation-ship floating.
We've shaken her down and worked her way up
to running through trials for the Real Lover's Cup.
Though she'll take on a gale yet be pushed by a breeze,
we're not really sure how she'll handle those seas.
Whatever the outcome, we'll learn even more
and strive to build better than ever before.
Cleaner, more streamlined, a true thoroughbred;
let form follow function, with no figurehead.
The storms are subsiding, the wind's dying down;
you're welcome whenever you're this side of town.
And what's more, you're welcome whenever you're ready
to work on this Friendship we've started already.
Jan 7, 2011
Jan 7, 2011 at 6:29 AM UTC
You can be the Flagship and i can be your home base
We will crush what tries to erase
With silence
I want you to rise up above the defiance
And quell those worst nightmares.
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 12:56 AM UTC
His name was Father Harrigan.
He was so poor at the seminary . . .
Ireland’s flagship seminary,
Erin’s last remaining seminary,
Maynooth College near Dublin,
Once a network of theological schools
Exporting priests worldwide,
Struggling today to
Produce enough priests for
The shrinking next generation of
Irish Catholics . . .
He was so poor upon
Sacrament of Holy Orders,
He accepted a first post to Argentina,
Where he met a young Pope Francis,
“The Talking Mule,” as he was
Mocked back then, back in
The student lounge,
Universidad del Salvador,
A Jesuit institution,
Buenos Aires.
But I digress.
Father Harrigan made friends easily.
It wasn’t too long before
He had his choice assignment—
His coveted next assignment--
North America--specifically the
Boston Archdiocese,
For any ***** Irishman
A land of carnal opportunity &
Never Ending Corn Beef
& Cabbage Bowl®,
($Ka-Ching! Finally making poetry pay!$)
The Olive Garden.
Southie was where it all got
Started in 5th Grade, Elementary,
Our Lady of Tipperary, the
Spring talent show.
His mother convinced him to sing
One of George M. Cohan’s tune, i.e.
A tune by His Eminence
“Yankee Doodle Dandy,”
A song called "Harrigan."
**“H, A, Double-R-I, G-A-N spells Harrigan,
Proud of all the Irish blood that's in me . . .”**
What better way to ingratiate
Himself to his parish,
Or his parish priest to his family?
Father Seamus Harrigan:
Built like John Candy, RIP.
A fat Irish slob,
A captive of his appetites,
Including one for boys.
That guy should be given
Kennedy Center Honors, for
Giving the gift that keeps on giving:
That first exquisite *******
Which in subsequent years
Defined my taste for women
Capable of perfection.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
Do you remember
The flagship's contender?
The rolling cold waves by the dock
And she herself was the sender
So did you attend her
Last day of rest by the rock?
She'd written you notes
passed by sailors on boats
But you would just sit there and cry
As she sat feeding the goats
With barley and oats
While you watched from your tower in the sky
And she didn't forget
The first time you'd met
By the lake house with dusk's tender fall
And her kiss was a threat
That put you in debt
When you told her that she was your all
Her undying love letter
Didn't make you feel better
As you knew you were claimed by the sea
How could you let her
Become your love debtor
When you knew that it never could be
When you returned
Your stomach it turned
As you stared at her home by the lake
And her father confirmed
Of what you already had learned
That her death was your cold mistake
On her funeral day
You had nothing to say
Clutching the letters she wrote in your fist
And you couldn't stay
you'd lead her astray
But loved her from the moment you kissed
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
Watching as the flagship spirals
out of control.
Sweet neon lights
sputtering supernova
lighting the path back home.
Where is home?
A sign of the times.
Men of the year
walking down cracked walks
sideways.
These imperfections.
Imagine the path
smooth as whiskey
and water.
The element of life.
Imagine the path cleared
by pseudo-wilderness.
Wouldn't it be lovely?
Only interrupted by
the cat-calls of
taxis, metro, trains flying overhead.
Which way is the right way?
Row houses rise on either side
a testament to the time
when this broken down
trains car of a town
was a Pullman City.
Degrading into bricks and mortar,
rusting to the point of
being obsolete.
For a good time
call me
old-fashioned.
This is my former glory,
made into a city.
It's time to decommission.
This is what every show becomes
when the lights fade
and the curtain falls.
When sunlight turns to shadow.
I expect less.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
~
*An aviation sleight-of-hand:
Random flight plan
Strange admission
This war of attrition
No friendly skies
No wings of hope
Flagship wanderer
High above the clouds
Gliding like a phantom
Holding its place in line
By sailing incognito
Without a stitch of cargo
Or living company
No laughter
No banter
No bag of nuts
Nothing for the flight recorder
To remember
Only a lonely figure
In the cockpit
Throttling down
A descent into madness
Keeping slots warm
And bodies cold*
~
Nov 12, 2022
Nov 12, 2022 at 12:15 PM UTC
While cannons firing towards
My vessel
The aroma of fresh gun powder
Fills the salty air
With a taste I shall remember
Sulking up energy
Knowing we have battle and bled
Throughout the night
Quenching our thirst
Countless bodies
Floating at sea
Damage is the flagship Lady Bella
No victory by far
As we continue engaging the enemy
The first mate is dead
Half of the crew is crippled
One last surge
Take us as prisoners
Or guide this lady ship
To safety
For I am captain
As my fate behest
While the seawaters of hope
Does not drown me
Feb 17, 2010
Feb 17, 2010 at 11:44 PM UTC
another hull breach
most of her fortune slips away
suckled by the undercurrent
her shanties are bottlenecked messages
entangled in self-accusation
listing through distress and tide
she flags toward more sympathetic waters
love is the bright iris of balmy weather
a ballast for threadbare optimism
she makes berth in tiny lips
that pardon her insufficiency
emptiness, a welcome refuge
projected under the twinkle of satisfaction
mirroring devotion
May 30, 2019
May 30, 2019 at 12:12 PM UTC
It couldn't get any better,
Minolta's flagship XM system is launched,
Gotta have it with Kodachrome 64 ! Meanwhile
Fruupp have their "The Prince of Heaven's Eyes"
Ted Heath's "U" turn has unravelled
and the Liverbirds are on the pill,
for some the revolution is complete.
There's next year before the EEC referendum
with the chance to make the right decision.
I'll never forget my Dad's yellow
"Ford Cortina" before the Datsun
become a better prospect.
Roll on Kolchak Nightstalker
you're Chicago's last saviour.
United Nations resolution 366
has something to say
about South West Africa.
But at least Jessica Harper was
"Special to Me".
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 7:10 PM UTC
A breeze on Sunday morning
then gushes the rain,
under canopy of a tree
waiting for a bus,
hardly a soul around,
way before the church brigade.
I feel such weekend days serves us as being most ubiquitous,
freedom of movement
giving credit that most people are good -
flagship thoughts as clear as Adams first steps.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 6:32 AM UTC
I sat on Drake's Seat
& spied the entire fleet,
including the flagship
& thought how those sailors
didn't need such a place
to view their plunder,
they had modern radar.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 11:05 PM UTC
Enter the vessel of 7 souls
7 Names crafted in ash
Rolling off sacred tongues
Dead languages given new life
The name of birth
Holds tightly to its catalyst
Strained in attempts to control
The ravenous hunger within
Abyss, forged in the darkness
From the whispers in my ear
The madness of childhood
Concieved in lingering shadow
Fiendish, the evolution
Insanity fueled nightmare
Manifestation of suffering
The true self of the mad king
Demise, father's reflection
Usher to the believers
Tricked by the twisted tongue
Murderer of dreams and innocence
Pantheon, the culmination of experience
Succeeding former capacaities
Far reaching to the fringes
Double-edged sword of progress
Obsidian, the lost one
Drifting into the empty spaces
The black hole of emotions
Always consuming ceaselessly
Legion, flagship of infinity
The millions within the singularity
Transcend the medium and grow
Violently, invade my madness
7 souls
At war
At peace
Slithering in my mind.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 11:43 PM UTC
I held arms and took to the battlefield
I was a coward but you gave me a courageous build
How do you expect me to feel
When you say you're bowing out besides getting chilled?
You had the spirit that could kindle flame till the end
You had the will to move mountains my friend
I know I might have had it cross the line, my pawn
But how could I see a line on the sand when by the wind it was blown?
I don't know why It's a big deal for you to surrender
To me you've always been the game changer
Who'll teach us where and when to break the rules?
When you're gone who'll hold our fingers and help us with the tools?
It's a war you readily started because you knew you could face it
Watching you cry on was an encouraging feeling, we had it
We loved us, nothing else mattered when you was the king
It was one way, one people, one motto, we was one thing.
You can't step out of the ring however extreme the May weather
However chilling it may be, It's always warm with inspiration when we're together
Put on your man pants, man up and get back into the game
It's you who told us we're all in a game but not everyone's rules are the same
I ain't trying to aim fatal arrows of blame
at you
All I'm saying is we was all strong under the flagship of your name,
And captain, we miss you
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 7:01 PM UTC
The whole time,
I was running as fast as I could, consumed by the flames that only knew that they should whisper
—————————————————
to just run
—————————————————
just run away,
—————————————————
that they should lick me
to get a taste
and desire me forever,
—————————————————
that they should laugh
to keep me fleeing,
—————————————————
so away and away,
—————————————————
to keep me fearing
for my life and even
other lives,
—————————————————
so
many
lives
—————————————————
enough
that in a terrored moment,
I couldn't remember
if they were my own,
—————————————————
and at the end of the edges
that I just kept running through,
—————————————————
even though
there was nothing left for me
to see or feel,
nothing left to convince me
that safety was only steps away
if I could please,
please
just keep taking them,
—————————————————
I was stricken,
impaled on
the thought,
the horrified suspicion,
some feeling bent on attacking me too,
the final flagship of my guilt,
—————————————————
a death speech,
—————————————————
that maybe I was leading those flames instead.
—————————————————
Where should we have gone?
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 9:15 PM UTC
everyone speaks in tongues
leaving traces of their sickness
in others' lungs.
and we're waking up
with bad dreams in our mouths.
tell me more about the monster
that hides inside your head.
don't you want to be alone again?
that night, the snow
when no one could name us;
sovereignty in its purest form.
now it's just glances, banter
across the water
a blur of other faces.
because everyone here is against us,
or for us, or whatever.
don't bring humanity into this.
(you are hand-made
derived from symphony halls,
guilt-wrung hands,
hard feelings, the light reflected
caught on the metal.
jesus, you're going to blind me.)
see that I was looking.
see that I'm still the same.
recognize that I'm getting worse every day.
the smell of burning tires
smoke ascending from the streets
someone call for help --
everyone's coughing.
they will forget soon enough.
what did they know to begin with?
look, I heard things too.
you don't have to smash your padlocks
we all have our secrets.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 3:43 PM UTC
I refuse to let my artistry
be ignored,
broken, beaten,
bruised, or forgotten.
These words hold my truth,
deeper than any flagship
can carry.
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC