"frigate" poems
Willets cull the seawall
snapper on the grill
rock ***** swoon
in shallow lagoons
long boats pass
under quiet
palm shade
Plovers dance and flutter
handrails frayed and torn
graffiti spots
at lovers rock
frigate-birds fall
from a high
noon sun
Thatched roof on a mud wall
fish flags settle score
anchors arch
in front line march
pillar cracks form
under rust brown scars
Elegant tern and grebe
watchmen fall in cue
children play
on crested waves
whimbrels and notchers
perch above Tentaciones
Striped pelícanos
the bandits of the sea!
merchants grow
in steady flow
siblings jostle
in a tide cooled sand
Heerman gull and boobie
durango smoke in yurt
boiler shrimp
and puffer blimp
castle buckets and scrapers
under a dusk light cheroot
Six pulls on a lead line
painted toes in sand
shearwater run
in a rainbow sun
the portly mexicano
flaunts his tacos
and wares
Rooster house for swordfish
bamboo shoots and sails
broken shells
and ocean swells
rise
on the
perfect
La Ropa bay
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 2:22 PM UTC
Streams and some remains,
Nothing soars around this vessel,
it feels just like blood stains;
reality is just a sick game.
Invisible particles of light
that reach their critical mass;
and suddenly explode outside.
(…and suddenly burst in my mind.)
Wander across barren wastelands,
Drifting throughout burning planets.
Come to me whatever you do,
Wherever you are, come with me.
I can see through an empty soul,
carving the black pits that singe inside;
blending the coldness of your foreign heart,
your trust in me can be my demise.
Stones raining from below,
darkness surrounds my scars;
the glasses of this artificial frigate are not bullet proof.
(…the windows of my ship are not ice-static proof.)
And remain in silence,
and forever believing,
that my love is against you
and my hate is loving you.
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
The oceanic wind did not rescind but instead it found its form.
Gathering in strength and gaining much in length at the centre of the storm.
Building attitude it would not exclude from the frigate sailing true.
But with its destination now a defication the seas discarded with the crew.
Land-Ho, it came, did this hurricane bringing with it such a wave.
Like none had ever seen was this water screen that was bound to misbehave.
Throwing all aside like an unruly bride who was aiming to get her way.
And what lay ahead was a heap of dead as the big one came to play.
On its way inward it had done no good to the vessells on the sea.
Throwing craft around and causing men to drown it wasn't going to let them be.
Breaching many shores like unruly ****** the waves would spread there grisly pox.
From the nearest beach to the out of reach destination of inland docks.
Catastrophe - spelt with a capital C was the headlines in the news.
Every seaside place had a weary face that was filmed by camera crews.
People died that day many swept away as the nearest towns did flood.
Even tracks were failing with the trains derailing while water washed away the blood.
Many homes were wrecked as they did disconect and the oceans did divorce.
With those like you and me as they watched TV as the waters swam there course.
Many got up high and watched their fellows die on this day that would not be.
Forgotten very soon as before high noon we were dismantled by the sea.
It's all over now and we will somehow continue with our lives.
We'll bury our dead and we'll count the heads of our lost husbands and wives.
They'll be laid to rest and we'll then invest in the massive clear away.
But when that wind gets up it'll hit us in the gut but all we can do is pray.
The world cannot be tamed and does not feel ashamed when it strikes from out of the blue.
However we prepare nature doesn't care and will do what it must do.
We think we're in control but we're just on parole from what nature has to throw.
And we'll hope that day never comes our way but we can never really know.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:51 PM UTC
If you would study how such genes relate
That from the Jesuit ingenious he was
Then you should know how to connect and sate
That Real Thirsty Medal you always had
I'm glad it wasn't your Inheritance
Who signed the Credit of your Prolonged Win
And work you did for your Signature Stance
Which made most take ground from their Frigate Sin
Yet always remember those Heads who Cheer
And invested their Bets un-withdrawn
Which, knowing you human, avoided the Sneer
And saw that Best Blue Child since you were born.
About the genes, Dad's Living Light impress
Now Mum's Beauty Stamp; Your Smile did she Bless.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:22 PM UTC
1263
There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry—
This Travers may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll—
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.
2.3k
*The fundamental phenomena in nature are symmetrical
with respect to interchange of past and future.* --- Richard Feynman
Millions for Defense
In the Cabinet room of Monticello, clutching Decatur's letter,
the President removes his wire-rimmed glasses ---
Frigate Philadelphia has been burned.
Decanting a bourbon, he pours and quaffs.
Outside in the piazza the cicadas' din is unbroken.
The Pasha of Tripoli has his tribute!
In three short hours warm rays of sunlight
will greet the outstretched arms of Earth,
but for now the bourbon scintillates.
Ink splatters on the blotter,
as he pounds a clenched fist upon the desk.
Not one cent!, he pronounces to the wall-clock.
Cicadas hold sway in the Charlottsville night,
but on the Barbary Coast a fire is raging.
Feb 23, 2012
Feb 23, 2012 at 9:39 AM UTC
533
Two butterflies went out at Noon—
And waltzed upon a Farm—
Then stepped straight through the Firmament
And rested, on a Beam—
And then—together bore away
Upon a shining Sea—
Though never yet, in any Port—
Their coming, mentioned—be—
If spoken by the distant Bird—
If met in Ether Sea
By Frigate, or by Merchantman—
No notice—was—to me—
1.8k
“There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry –
This Traverse may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll –
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human Soul –”
- Emily Dickinson
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
based on a song by Bob Dylan
oh, what did you see
my blue eyed son?
oh, what did you see
my darling young one?
i saw an old man
with feet that were bleeding
i saw a young child
with eyes that were pleading
i saw an old frigate
it's sails black and rotten
a man on an island
who's soul was forgotten
a poet in chains, an artist in prison
a fiery phoenix who's newly arisen
and it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard rain's a'gonna fall
and what did you hear
my blue eyed son?
what did you hear
my darling young one?
a man played a trumpet
through teeth that were broken
i heard the last kind word
that ever was spoken
the tears of a whale
upon a red beach
the flutter of flags
the last truth to be preached
a man a'screamin
a maiden a'mournin
a valley a'drownin
a mountain a'formin
and it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard rain's a'gonna fall...
so what will you do
my blue eyed son?
oh, what will you do
my darling young one?
i'll throw my arms out
and shake fists at the sky!
i'll never stop asking...
i want to know why!
i'll never forget the man with the lie!
i'll fight the good fight...
and then i will die!
'cause it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard... it's a hard...
it's a hard rain's a'gonna fall!
Aug 26, 2015
Aug 26, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
The Press surrounded the boarding house
That was kept by Mary Toft,
Her sailor man was Rickety Dan
Who was hidden, up in the loft.
‘Come out, come out, wherever you are,’
Cried the head of the Press Gang crew,
We’ve got you a berth on the frigate ‘Perth’,
‘Don’t make us come looking for you!’
Mary stood by the door and blocked,
‘You’ll not be coming in here,
You can’t Impress in a private house,
The law of the land is clear.’
‘But this is a plain old ***** House
It’s the Navy’s right to come in,
You don’t say no to a guinea or so
From a sailor, looking for sin.’
‘I’ll have you know it’s a Boarding House
Not a ***** House, Oh dear!
You’d better go off for a pint of gin
And swill it around in your ear!
A Boarding House is a private house
And protected, under the law,
You’d better go looking somewhere else,
Like ‘The Angel’, down at the shore.’
‘We’re here to pick up Rickety Dan
We know that he’s here with you,
There’s no protection since Bony came
And the Navy’s short of a crew,
So stand aside, by the rising tide
He’ll be lost to you, Miss Toft,
For somewhere out by the channel ports
He’ll be clambering up, aloft.’
Dan had rickets when he was young
His legs were bowed like a bell,
He heard the door come clattering in
And he heard young Mary yell;
He seized his favourite capstan-bar
And he leapt right out of the loft,
Then laid about him from right to left
In defence of his Mary Toft.
The Press consisted of Isaac Raines
A farmer, plucked from the hay,
A weaver, minus the broken frames
The Luddites had taken away,
A shipwright, also a ropemaker
Who had joined to avoid the Press,
‘As long as you bring them in, my lads,
I’ll not let you go for less!’
Dan lashed out with the capstan-bar
And he laid the weaver low,
Sent the farmer to tend his fields
With only a single blow,
Chased the shipwright out of the door
Where the ropemaker had fled,
Knocked the Lieutenant down to the floor,
Then saw that he lay, stone dead!
‘I’m gone, I’m gone,’ said Rickety Dan,
‘I’d better head back to the sea,
It’s bad enough that I’ve killed the man
They’ll all be looking for me,
I’ll go and sign on an Indiaman
If I have to sign as a cook,
Once I’m safely away at sea
It’s the last place that they’ll look.’
She never saw Rickety Dan again
Though she’d wait at the turning tide,
Whenever an Indiaman came in
She would dress herself as a bride,
And even after they’d left this life
With Dan no longer aloft,
A bird perched up on the mizzen mast
Would look out for Mary Toft.
David Lewis Paget
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 5:39 AM UTC
Chapter Two -poem-Neva Flores
Sometimes I get tired of having so little time
and plainly seeing my surroundings
crying out before the scent of dawn
has bloomed.
Can a single cloud breathe in
all of the warm air
that hails my universe,
removing all reason to wake up,
live life and resume?
I look at fleeing ships
whose sails are full of thunder
and I hear a song
dissolving the wildest parts of me.
Each note dances in the breeze
dropping its own melody
inside my heart
until it becomes the only thing
I hear inside my soul
and I struggle to even
breathe.
I was a cabin boy on a tallmasted ship.In the Straits of Gibraltor.Yes they did not know I was female but that was my well kept secret.one does have to survive in this world and by hook or crook I planned on doing just that.my name is Samuel.well really Samantha..been called Sam a while so the transition /switch to samuel was fairly easy.I figure Im close to 8yrs, maybe 9 and I'm scrawny and quick.Business was done in cramped quarters so no-one was the wiser.My best friend was Joque, he kinda wanted a son I reckon, he was partial to Me and gave Me the easy work and fed Me all the time..you know the fresh stuff so I wasn't inclined to scurvy..apples whens theys were here...oranges and salt in rations he kinda shared with me.Odd how I was found at sea and in the middle of nowheres they say..just like I was plunked down in the ocean like a drowning rat , lucky it was in front of the HMS Frigate Triumph..not much to see but it was dryer than I had seen in a while...anyways Joque fished me out and dryed Me up ..said he'd never seen a boy with that much hair.so a hair cut was in order...threw me some dry clothes that dinna smell like stinky fish and here I were.
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© 2011 Eclipsing Moon-blood red
Oct 2, 2011
Oct 2, 2011 at 10:24 AM UTC
High on the desolate cliffs a woman cried
pleading for her man to return
captain of a navy frigate two centuries ago
on hearing his ship had sunk
no survivors threw herself into the angry sea
in this life no more wanted to be!
From that day of sorrow felt by many families
the loss of husbands and sons
to the sudden storm the day before Christmas
it's said pleading voices are heard
on the winds at the very hour the ship was lost
with such a terrible cost!
Drawing many to have the sensation to jump
while walking on the cliffs
a soft sobbing cry as they to look out to sea
and come across the grave
where she lay forever for her lover waiting
for his return always aching
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
They ‘pressed me on His Majesty’s frigate
The H.M.S. Carew,
It only took me a day to find
I was lodged with the Devils’s crew,
The Captain, ‘Black Jack’ Hawkins
Was a gentleman by name,
But on the ship he used the whip
To his undying shame.
I slipped and fell from the foremast arm
When I caught my foot in a stay,
And though a net kept me safe from harm
That wasn’t the Captain’s way,
He said I’d swim for my mortal sin
Told the crew to rope me through,
Then dragged me over the side and said,
‘We’re going to keel-haul you.’
The barnacles on the Carew’s hull
Nearly tore my back to shreds,
My lungs were so close to bursting that
I thought that I was dead.
They hauled me over the side again
The deck was red from my back,
At least I knew I was safe again
From a sudden shark attack.
They rubbed raw salt in my many wounds
Till I thought I was in hell,
While some of the crew had mocked and jeered
The Devil’s own cartel,
They wore tattoos of the skull and bones
It was strange for a Royal crew,
But they themselves had been Impressed
So they hated Hawkins too.
He used to stand on the quarter-deck
Quite close to the starboard rail,
Where he could see any slacking off
While we were under sail,
He’d tie the men to the nearest mast
And would whip, before the crew,
Till every man was inflamed and raw
And would plot what they would do.
It fell to me to devise a plan
That everyone agreed,
We had to get rid of this Devil man
It became our only creed,
So I took a rope when I climbed the mast
That was fixed above his head,
Then swung and booted him over the rail
So we thought that he was dead.
The crew then dashed to the starboard side
And they all looked down and cursed,
For Hawkins floated upon the tide,'
It couldn’t be much worse,
He shouted up, ‘This is mutiny!
I’ll flay that man to the bone.’
But all he got were the jeers of the crew
As the Captain sank like a stone.
David Lewis Paget
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 6:36 AM UTC
Catching a star, rushing forward the frigate,
Through the storm ahead, the bowsprit of his high,
But ahead all the same abyss without borders,
The desert of black waters in silence of latitudes.
Cracks and groans bom-topgallant topmast,
Chiseling strong ezelgof,
Mars and Ray converged with parrel in battle,
With a dream - to get rid of the shackles.
The wave growls, rolling terribly,
And with the power of the wind jib-boom mast on the beats,
And a low, menacing sound of the cello,
It is suddenly heard from the blackening heights,
That drill groans together with a heavy wind,
The key of the forgotten Symphony are trying to find,
And torn violin strings - moaning times through the centuries,
And killed the brave men among depths.
The thunder storm is rushing with noise, howling,
Shaking stars in heavens,
And the thunder echoes it a disparate,
And the frigate is hurtling on the sails.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 6:15 AM UTC
Sometimes,
you have slow nights,
and hate yourself
for being so lazy.
Other times,
it's an unleashing ****
a riled-up badger
in your heart;
a\frigate on the best seas;
so much hope,
and the love of your life
hasn't ****** her boyfriend,
only you;
and it really comes out of you,
unspooling on the screen.
It's so much magic,
that your heart greases over with it; and all the little things
bellow.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 11:35 PM UTC
Out of an arid ocean you came.
Draped in kelp and pearls.
Lush lips and Picean hips
You've been a witness to
The liquid dreams of Neptune,
The lofty spires of Atlantis,
The beaded shores of
Islands unknown,
The phosphoric teeth of
Creatures never seen.
The languid swirling
Of seahorses tantalizing
The mating of tendrils...
Your rivals recline on the
Ravaged rocks... patiently
Waiting for the frigate or
Schooner, or if lucky a
***** Man-o-War. Silent
Smiles perch on their lips...
They look to the broken
Boards and driftwood around
Their rocky abodes. The
Skeletons have sunk into
The sea...
Ahoy! A tall ship, by Poseidon!
They lift their seductive voices
To draw the sailors to the
Rocks & reefs... to no avail!
The mermaids, like dolphins,
Cavortingly draw them with
Their antics to safe harbor!
Jewels adorn their swirling
Hair, and gems their tails.
Their pear-shaped *******
Modestly covered with
Glowing seaweed & shells...
While the sirens sit naked
On the rocks.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/27/2017
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 7:18 PM UTC
The dream machine be casted grey
And sent me home alone today;
Home alone by dreamer’s power
And struck down solid ‘round the hour.
So as they passed, my mind did wander
Through alleys they had hoped to squander.
From every cell upon my head—
Removed again and sent to bed.
Laid to waste and waned through air
And to the misty frigate there.
Across those plains and through the cold
Where to an end it all unfolds.
So send me out, it matters little
We remain still dream’s transmittal
For where the rain will fall toward clouds
This dream will end, depart the crowds.
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 5:03 AM UTC
As she swayed to the tide of music nobody heard
The ghostly rhythms of my own forgotten soul caught FIRE
Tap dancing tenaciously on the tightrope of the void
Calling forth cascading cataracts, callousing over the mind, a cacophony of Mallards, flying south for the winter,
NEVER AGAIN TO SEE THEIR MOTHERS.
She tied my brain into a rope and swung across the chasm
Laughing like a Mameluke who had just discovered his feet.
The camel was left behind at the gate
The Babble went on till the break of dawn
Till it stopped.
And collapsed.
And felt weak as a Sunday Noon Tide Carolers
Bunchcake, Fun and Dry, Severing again and again the Hair twine
Randal Slappy Blimp map candy man Cadillac attack
A BOTTLE OF WINE AND TWO LEFT FEET LATER
A scumaladdoodalla frigate-splayed poodle-cups
When finally she agreed to let me into her preschool
I had already given up the hope of ever having a career in the arts.
Bean friends. Are the only friends. That accompany you. To heaven.
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 3:50 AM UTC
A pinch of heaven is enough
To fuel a life and if life shouts:
Soon I shall be no more-then
I shall consign myself to the
Deathless dreams of youth
Saying if leave I must let me
Embark upon the ship of sleep
For I cannot say it is over but
That I endeavor to reach that
Farther shore where lie the
Isles of eternal spring that once
Made glad my young heart...
That I yet might call them my
True home. For when all that's
left:
proves itself mortal- what is not
Left was never left- shall be All
If fly we must to reach that Place-
On angel wings we shall
Fly like the seagull or frigate-
Bird. We shall fly and from
Earth
To sky He shall show us ere we
Descend: Heaven. For the small
Shall reign down, Can reign...
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:32 AM UTC
All are invited to taste-test a French meal, free-of-charge, at the
Table of near west side Chef Louis. The first course will be a
Salade Niçoise, prepared the usual way – vegetables, salad greens
From the Periwinkle family, des oeufs durs et des olives ‒ Flavored with a pinch of myrtle. Those so inclined may have escargots instead. Louis will pop the cork on a vintage vin rouge.
The main course: canard à l’orange, spécialité de la maison.
Known far and wide as the best duck in town, it has a secret sauce
Including the bird’s bone marrow, and is a favorite of Paul Soglin;
Hizzoner has been showing up brandishing a “ditch Walker” sign.
While the cuisine is incomparable, the dinner music, too, is
Délicieuse. In town for only a week is the diva, Renée Fleming,
Accompanied by the virtuoso cellist, Yo-Yo Ma. To forestall the
Entry of hordes of fans, Louis will have the louvers closed.
The wait staff will be in the wings with the *dessert du jour, Crêpes
Suzette* – using the best Orange Curaçao ‒ before a small frigate
Is unmoored for return to the Lesser Antilles to pick up a new
Stash. Louis is a total service restauranteur, and he has vowed to
Let all his guests take a selfie, with him, Yo-Yo and Renée, in the
Private chef’s booth, in just a glimmer of the day’s remaining light.
Though he’s unbearded, Louis uses Brilliantine regularly to help
Him attract the most voluptuous of available dates. *Mais, prenez
Garde, mes demoiselles, Louis est français, après tout….*
© Lewis Bosworth, 7-2017
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 2:02 PM UTC
Dressed in effervescence,
All drunk through of colour,
Woven loose with counterpoint,
Singing in swelling crescendo!
Oh, how did you ever taste of constellations?
Set adrift on your oceans of moonkiss liquid velvet and
Dancing to the beat of lapping water and frigate birds.
You return to me sometimes,
All odd hours and confusion with your compass,
Somnolence and promises and
Twists of intermingled breath.
A cup half-drained my heart beats the same in
Dash and rhythmic countenance.
The perch of my lips, the curve of my jaw...
You're woven in the knit of my brow
But your map's all mayhap, crumple and
Softly spoken whimsy, folded twice and
Sealed with sighs and dreams of distant islands.
Farewell, farewell... ah, fare thee well with your gifted currents
And boat you've wrought of nothing more than your own
Cupped hands, enrobed in light and riven through
With loosely jointed daydream.
Sep 15, 2016
Sep 15, 2016 at 6:45 AM UTC
I am a tawny hinge,
Once of a lucent pair,
Attached to a half broken door
By a single *****
Now adrift on a mound of slippery waste-
the lock won't shut!
What difference?
What I have done.
At least in love Loved.
But scattered flotsam now.
The remnant of some once grand ship.
Oh, where is my other half?
My loving wife,
My tender, tender Love.
There,
Out there, across the endless sea.
Where is she now?
I left her in our nest with babe,
For war and for glory.
And a fair widow made.
A ghost,
I have returned.
Where is my lover?
The one who knows.
She who is my heart,
And I hers.
The one I left with child
In Plymouth Port,
So I could perish in the sea
Burned on my frigate on a foreign shoal.
But am I not returned?
Searching for the one:
A thousand wear her smiles,
Masks that delight to tease and trick.
In a field of bright flowers,
I dally there and there.
Each scent a thorny promise:
('Oh, take me close.')
So many sunny faces
Who with lips parted have turned,
And grimaced!
But where is my love?
My one true...
Who knows before I.
And from cold stone,
Turns me warm.
Why did I leave you?
And will I ever find you?
My true Love,
The only one who when we're done,
Brings final rest.
Aug 29, 2020
Aug 29, 2020 at 9:23 AM UTC
One thousand fathoms,
ten cables deep
silent we slumber
dead men we
sleep.
Where the frigate birds soar
and the amber lights glow
we watch in a daydream
from
one mile below.
Everything turned on the
spin of the wheel
everything hinged upon
what we could steal and
then the storm came,
hit us off the
Port au Prince,
sunk and no trace, now
we face up to our deeds
as we flow with the weeds
one thousand fathoms deep.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 2:25 PM UTC
_In the legend of the lovers Tristan and Iseult, there is a small, magical, immortal dog named Petitcrieu who "ate half the sadness of everyone he met." He didn't gift any type of forgetfulness, but instead bestowed the ability to bear the sorrow easily._
Bells are ringing wet and pink
on a muscled shoreline of skin,
lining me with their tolling.
Their knell is so heavy in the ear,
it sinks into the sand chokes
trapped on my frozen tongue.
Someone great has vanished again.
The clang and clatter escapes
out of this red chest oven,
bangs around the wild world.
Grief is announced, by way
of cacophony. Where are the dogs?
The ones who eat our sadness
with their bellish barking?
Who look into our brief eyes
& remove the worst of the sting?
Who serve the moon, defy the sun?
They have gone missing.
Sorrow rushes through the waters
a blued frigate with a headwind,
overtaking the heart, the head,
the curried spine...
In this age, sadness is the magazine
that all of us are reading.
Aug 10, 2023
Aug 10, 2023 at 10:42 PM UTC