"helmsman" poems
A nameless helmsman
Whose fallible hands
Duty calls to act god like
Guiding a ship of life
Off the coast of Newfoundland
Through a night of blue white ice halls,
Until their combined Neptune fate
Entombs nearly all
To an eternal Atlantic floor
Of dark and frigid sea.
Sep 25, 2010
Sep 25, 2010 at 8:18 AM UTC
1198
A soft Sea washed around the House
A Sea of Summer Air
And rose and fell the magic Planks
That sailed without a care—
For Captain was the Butterfly
For Helmsman was the Bee
And an entire universe
For the delighted crew.
2.5k
less of an island
and
more of a
ship
moving steadily
across the
vastness of the
seas
less of a loner
and
more of an entire
crew within one
man
needless of others,
and thus,
not needing them
at all
I am captain,
first mate,
helmsman,
and
cook
I do everything I need
and everything I want
I lay anchor
only to get that which
I cannot provide
myself
like love, personality,
and sanity
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:35 PM UTC
the lights from the street below
shine weakly into the silent room
she lay in the tangled sheets
staring off into the night
a television set oddly turned to face the wall flickers while
its low volume garbles its incessant whispered babbling
like some deranged man talking to himself
the scents of ********** thick in the air
there is a tray of food gathering dust
a bottle of wine untouched
she is motionless
the **** skin of her face glistens in the
shifting shadows of her silent thoughts
i sit in the hardback chair
with difficult breathing apparatus trailing my mental footsteps
i tread carefully through the narrow dark wood
of her languid eye with small talk
laying out a feast of interesting topics
she is not hungry
a storm flashes lightening far out to sea
images come to the mind of a ship chasing the dawn
desperate to break free of the natures fury
and the captain at the helm
heroic figure standing fast against the odds
holding to the wheel and shouting to all hands
the rain falling in tangled sheets
focus returns to the room
she is falling motionless entangled in the beds sheets
i am the brave helmsman standing fast
this ship has already sunk
daylight appeases the minds of the
littered minefield of broken and bent on the bedroom floor
so they now allow begrudging paths safely to be seen
her eyes have closed
sleep
the dust encrusted food and the stale wine
make a feast for the birds who's small wing fluttering
are the only sound
the sun's heavy light falls in a narrow shaft
that glows against the dark wood background
i slowly ease my hand into its warmth
like a swimmer testing the waters
i dive in
and my soul swims the shaft of light
up to the bright world
leaving this place of shadows
and this woman of darker dreams
she awakens hours later
to find me laying on the floor with one hand extended out to
where the sun once held sway
laying there wrapped in my dreams of liquid light
dreaming of the day just past
and the days to come
she lay next to me
and cups me in her arms
while weak lights from the street below
shine up into our quiet room
Jan 25, 2014
Jan 25, 2014 at 11:47 AM UTC
we hang on to that ****** thing
hoping it will bring
us luck
does it?
does it?
the **** it does.
shove it,
don't hang on
don't love it
In these vaults where faults are bound to overwhelm me
the Skipper's all at sea and we are all alone
a helmsman with no land or home to tide him by
a reason only if to
if I want to
want to
die or why it has to be this way?
An Oracle would bid me sit and say.
'why hang on at all
Rome built in a day will fall'
it all takes time.
Time is just a cross to bear
a watch to wear,
a moment
dare we look?
dare we
do we give a **** about that thing?
what thing?
I've moved on away from that thing
that thing never did me good
I thought it would,
at one time
I thought the World was flat
that thing
circumcised my brain
colonised my train of thought
I need a ripcord
a Gordian sword
I found it in the word.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 4:41 PM UTC
Another ship sinks.
So
drinks to the helmsman who knew only too well
and sailed us all off to end up in this hell.
and the Captain turns to the crew
who were blue with the cold that was coloured by the sea
and with a voice we could not only hear but could see
said,
'drink up your *** boys and don't look so glum boys
your sails will be filled up tonight
with delights from the mermaids who've laid on a party so drink up your *** lads and be hale and hearty
and the devil takes care of his own'
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
The torrential downpour slammed against the ship
The helmsman is losing his grip
The sails are in shambles
The captain has been reduced to rambles
The storm shows no sign of slowing
And that feeling in my stomach is rapidly growing
We are going to sink
Salty water is going to be my last drink
Thor's hammer strikes above
Only pure unadulterated fear
With my death so near
I gaze back into the past
Savoring every memory while it lasts
I look at it sweetly through rose tinted glass
I smile softly to myself as all things must pass
The water grabs me in an ice cold embrace
And I die with grace and a smile on my face
Through death i know what it means to live
All the pleasure and horrors it can give
So don't throw it away
Use and abuse everyday
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 9:34 PM UTC
What may be this stormy brilliance
come upon my weary watch
Oh what fresh'ning wind befall me
on this perilous small yacht
Shall I shelter in calm harbors,
set a course for un-adventure,
reef my sails, take in the main,
keep it safe for my debenture
Or is mine the priceless treasure
on some island beach I'll find,
if I rig my weather mainsail,
and prepare my boat for rime
Set the genoa to run out,
shift my rudder to the force,
let the weather take a free turn,
let the helmsman plot the course
So be still my racing heartbeat,
be thee calm my apprehension,
give me over to these winds that blow,
it could only cost pretension
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 8:42 PM UTC
Translated by Przemyslaw Musialowski 9/29/2019
Even if your ship would be caught in the greatest of storms,
you'll stay in charge unafraid being the helmsman for your crew,
like a good father caring for his children, you shall not let them die.
If you fall - you will not swear,
because your fellowmen will lift you up,
for your heart for everyone and everywhere.
Remember - money is the king of the world,
and friends? - they'll find you in need,
but the small flame of a poor-quality candle
always quickly goes out.
For your birthday some will bring you roses,
have you seen this flower without thorns?
while others - dasies from an oak wood,
adorned with the most innocent dew.
You'll have to choose - love or affection,
and given moment you'd better not confuse
that sometimes it's worth to think about that
what in its essence a flower shall remain.
Wieslaw Musialowski 5/10/2003
Nov 12, 2019
Nov 12, 2019 at 11:39 AM UTC
For four days now we've run before the bitter storm
Timbers cracked and broken, sails rent and torn
Hold fast boys, hold fast for a mighty wave is bearing down
And if you're swept across the rail then you must surely drown
I should try to wear the ship, get her head into the wind
But if I do my bonny lads we might end up twenty fathoms down
Helmsman stand here close by me, I'll lash you to the wheel
I can't afford to lose you lad for I need your arms of steel
Lads I'll do my best to bring you safely home
But we stand into terrible danger and yet may come to harm
My crew are tired, weary, lashed by wind and rain
They bravely fight the raging storm, bearing all their pain
Then comes a mighty shout. "See there a patch of blue"
Storm clouds like curtains opened and the sun came into view
Gather round me now my lads and give thanks to him above
For through your strength and through his guidance I can return you to those you love
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
(Continued from 5/10)
When Gilbert reaches
the other side of the flying river
(as if the water was not flowing
But, remained still and seem
the boat was not floating on it
but flying),
while stepping down,
he asked the one eyed helmsman,
“how do I go back to my
home?”
The helmsman replied
in his usual voice,
“time travels fast,
thus the whispers of the forest,
I will know what to do next.”
Thus he took farewell and
approaches the dark forest-
unknown birds chirping,
wild wind was blowing,
coyotes were howling from the distant
even during the day
(because inside the dark forest,
it is so dark and it seems
always night).
He was afraid, but not that much
afraid, when his sisters face
was flashing before his eyes-
thus he took bold steps to
reach the destination.
Continued….
Sep 4, 2021
Sep 4, 2021 at 1:56 AM UTC
The squall of soaring seagulls up above,
The creaking of an icy frozen grove,
The numbness all over his limbs,
Surrounded by a desert of the nips
As if a wounded whale upon a shore
Mottled with a spots of ****** gore
A sailor lay, amidst the shipwreck caused
By a helmsman un-afortunately drowsed
And skyward gazing, looking at the sun
To inner self this lament he begun:
“My name is Thomas, Lord, I’m very young,
I’d speak to you aloud, but I can’t feel my tongue,
But, still, I hope that you will hark;
O God be **** the day when to embark
On this here very ****** ship I decided;
I guess I was too much an absent-minded
But I am young, o Lord, and know not world,
Therefore a chance to th’ opportunity like this to hold
To I had no moral right to disregard,
So in a blink I am aboard a ship dubbed « Scarred »;
We travelled fast, we anchored now and then,
I guess once time we even Devil’s Den
Were very lucky to escape ungrazed,
But otherwise was very last this case;
The moon was up, the sky was clear,
The stars a-strewn dissolving every fear
So very much affected by this sight,
The worthy helmsman gave in to the night;
In every other instance (and they were)
Did nothing never happen, but now lo,
The splinter showed itself to lonely night
And did emerge to that most pallid light;
And just like this he pierced into our hull
Like in a wretched man his horns does sheath a bull;
Commotion set us all awake,
Some people overboard in our wake,
I’m to the deck, the moment next
I lose my conscious, fall from the apex;
When I again do can perceive the life
Every other mate did lose his strife;
And only things around me thereof:
The squall of soaring seagulls up above,
The creaking of an icy frozen grove,
The numbness all over my limbs,
Surrounded by a desert of the nips
As if a wounded whale upon a shore
Mottled with a spots of ****** gore”
With these thoughts swerving in his mind
Of the outer world became he blind;
And thus he perished, left there all alone:
Blind and bruised and Frozen to the bone
Apr 12, 2020
Apr 12, 2020 at 10:36 AM UTC
For four days now we've run before the bitter raging storm
timbers cracked and broken, sails rent and torn
Hold fast my boys hold fast for a mighty wave is bearing down
and if your swept across the rail you will surely drown
I should try to wear the ship, get her head into the wind but if
I do my bonny lads we might end up twenty fathoms down
Helmsman stand here close by me, I will lash you to the wheel,
I can't afford to lose you lad for I need your arms of steel
Lads I will do my best to bring you safely home but we stand
into terrible danger and still yet may come to harm
My crew are tired, weary, lashed by wind and rain, but still
they bravely fight the raging storm bearing all their pain
Then comes a mighty shout, see there a patch of blue, the storm
clouds liks curtains open and the sun comes into view
Gather round me now my lads and give thanks to him above for
through your courage and his guidance I can return you to
those you love.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
I've come to peace with darkness,
An eternal embrace, my only wish,
With the end drawing near, I long to talk
To the bringer of death, her whispers soft.
Her warm embrace: What I've always sought,
In the shape of white circles, small and cold,
I take a breath, deep and slow,
Before burning liquid flushes my final wish down my throat.
Now I wait for her to draw near,
To feel her presence, to silence my cries.
But as she lingers, my heart starts to race,
A longing for her eternal embrace.
Why this anxiety? Shouldn’t I feel warm and calm?
She stands at my door, her arms open wide,
But something inside me holds onto the last spark of life,
The flicker of hope that won't let me be taken.
It's not too late: I grasp for the phone,
A plea for another chance.
In shadows, I tremble, the impatient helmsman waiting to cross the Styx.
So I’ll call for help, let the sirens wail,
A soft voice answers the call,
I can't respond,
My wish has taken hold of me and won't let go,
My eyes close shut as darkness is all that remains,
A slight echo of that soft voice is heard in the distance,
But halfway the river Styx,
The soft voice is drowned out by the lost souls seeking peace,
Whom I am soon to join.
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 8:31 PM UTC
(Continued from 4/10)
The wicked witch
by looking at the future glass
shut down her eyes
with much explanations
and whisper into his ears
silently-
she says, “It is ultimate danger
to cross the river
and the dark forest
to reach the spiritual ghost.
but, I will give you
this lucky charm. You keep it
on your neck
and all the evils will be
frightened of you.”
Choosing a shiny day
he started his journey
towards the dark forest
by taking a very few things
those were necessary he thought arrived.
He arrived at the riverside
to cross,
an one eyed helmsman was there,
as if he was waiting for Gilbert-
the one eyed helmsman said
in a very dull but deep voice,
“I don't take impure souls to cross
the river and since you are a pure soul
I will take you to the other side.”
Thus he started crossing the river.
Continued…
Aug 30, 2021
Aug 30, 2021 at 12:04 AM UTC
Death rides at midnight
Filling the land with blight
He casts a frightful image
As he rides through the village
His frightful scythe gleams
Wet with the blood of unrealized dreams
The cold, hard metal
Is uncaring enough to unsettle
Beneath his dark hood
Lies nothing good
Only the husk of a man
Who signals the end of a lifespan
His skeletal horse
He rides along his dutiful course
Whinnying as he stops
To **** the farmer's crops
Solemn is his duty
To take away life's beauty
Unbearable to a living man
The underworld's ghastly helmsman
The pistol is his herald
In his black cloak appareled
Weapons of war
Bring him to the door
His job is made no easier
Nor and breezier
By mankinds love of violence
Or vile fraudulence
All the thousands of young souls
Lives lost without completing their goals
Brought to a swift end
By Death only to attend
Death rides at midnight
Filling the land with blight
He casts a frightful image
As he rides through the village
Searching for souls to pillage
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 2:01 PM UTC
There he is, floating around the river Styx, abandoned by the helmsman, left to wander alone.
His soul in despair as he tries to find his way to shore, but the river Styx is endless, no way to escape the waters embrace.
In a pool of lost souls, lonely and cold, floating between the others, each lost in regret.
He wanders for ages as the souls, filled with anything but clarity, meet his eyes with gazes deep as the underworld goes.
Until he meets a wise soul, who seems to have found her way, looking to guide any others that only stray further away.
The beacon of hope, the soft voice he lost along the way.
She says: "Another manipulated soul, deceived by her twisted embrace.
Promised peace and warmth, only to be shackled by anguish and disarray.
Endless questions, dwelling in those lost eyes, no guiding hand, a restless mind.
Wander the river Styx, to the waters where sorrow seeps.
The answers you seek, lie shrouded by mist, in their embrace your shackles will shake,
As freedom unfolds you'll find within yourself a flicker of hope, only then will you be able to escape,
The River Styx."
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 8:32 PM UTC
Putrid scent of rotting elm
A hollow vessel, none at helm
Floating, Drifting, Swaying yet
A smoke-filled room, a shallow bet
What more than logs can human be
With not a helmsman in his sea?
For what’s a ship without its crew
But dying wood and foamy slew?
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
The helmsman, the cultivator of the village
Come everybody come
Go to the quay, go to the field
Time flies.
You have to raise the sail
We have to join helm to the plow
River water is surging
Waves playing in the paddy field.
Flood is in the river today
Harvest Binny rice for the next season
There is no time to sit idle
Get up by fastening the waist.
Mar 14, 2021
Mar 14, 2021 at 11:08 PM UTC
My thoughts strike from within.
Anger, helplessness, then tenderness
crash against an invisible wall.
The helmsman has set a course
for unsteadiness—
in an hour, maybe two,
another wave of doubt will come.
The sum of scenarios
weighs more than yesterday,
tattooing my soul from within.
I’m waiting,
freezing my tired mind.
Forget?
I can't anymore –
The anchor sank deep.
His voice rests in my depths.
I don't want to sail alone,
even though words of assurance
sound like a childish game.
I divide my loneliness into two,
adding up the “what ifs” –
I forgot the order of operations,
still remembering that my heart
beats slower, then faster.
I take a calm breath.
An invisible pin
pierces the back of my head.
It hurts—physically hurts—
But I won't back down.
I don't want to sleep.
I'm waiting for dawn,
for the solution to the equation
of my life,
with two unknowns.
I'm waiting
for those hands,
for that gaze,
for that smile,
for that warmth.
Aug 10, 2025
Aug 10, 2025 at 11:38 PM UTC