"humpback" poems
happy **** day, **** me
**** you, humpback **** front
don't stop, follow dotted lines
until you find the little treasure spot
get a little wierd with love
get a little wierd with me
you aren't safe out there, kiddo
just stick with me, too much
talk in the office about us
make out behind a filing cabinet
stuck on the phone all day telling
everybody we're going
to be alright, happy hunting
Sep 14, 2017
Sep 14, 2017 at 6:17 PM UTC
The finest singer in the sea
I heard upon this morn
And in that strange sonorous tone
A universe was born
The low melodic wailing touched
And roused me from my sleep
As the humpback lithe and languid
Made a turn and sounded deep
And as my mind awakes it turns
To whales large and small
To the snowy white beluga
The canary of them all
The clicking bursts of ***** whales
And the California grey
The fin whale speaks across the sea
To those a world away
The short and longfinned pilot whales
With whistles quite complex
The striking graceful orcas
Speak in different dialects
But it is the great blue whale
That makes the loudest cry
Though it is far too rare today
With such an awful why
But on this wondrous morning I
Am filled with joyous glee
That God has given life to whales
And gave to them the sea
Cori MacNaughton
24Oct2000
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
The air is a mill of hooks --
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.
I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up
Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun's conflagration, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
Of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower-nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable --
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea
Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
5.2k
Rugged body hunches,
Impression of a humpback,
Spit blood more than saliva,
Straighten posture to reveal
Ghastly mold of ribcage,
Bones poke at the dermis,
Gasp, prickling oxygen,
Pierces respiratory system,
Flinch to agonizing pain
An hour of spasms at the most,
Wounds deemed trivial,
Famed hers walk around
To stitch the prized emblems
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 9:25 PM UTC
I want to be a Disney Kid.
I want to swim the seven seas and fall magically in love,
Never grow up and fight the evil pirates.
I want to grant my wishes and soar on a magic flying carpet,
Marry a beast who lives wealthy and loves me for me.
I want to go into war for the sake of my ill father,
Dance at a ball and lose my glass slipper.
I want to wake up surrounded by miniatures dwarfs,
Be pricked by a spindle and kissed to be awakened.
I want to be a Native American, who falls in love with a man who sees me different,
Grow my hair till it touches the ground.
I want to kiss a frog and fall into a magical world,
Swing on vines while beating my chest, yelling the mighty call.
I want to grow my nose till I can’t tell a lie anymore,
Soar through the sky with my floppy big ears.
I want to fall into a hole to find another crazy dimension,
Be a black spotted dog with 101 puppies.
I want to land with my umbrella to interact with kids,
Eat spaghetti behind the garbage dumpsters with classical music.
I want to be best friends with a beagle,
Be a deer who meets all sorts of animals.
I want to be a pirate fighting on the Caribbean,
Eat honey all day till my tummy gets full.
I want to be the king and rule the jungle kingdom,
Be lost at sea and touch the ****
I want to be a live toy and go on mischievous adventures,
Be a race car and drive the highways.
I want to be in New York and hang with the big dogs,
Fly in a house full of balloons.
I want to turn into a bear and see life differently,
Have a humpback and be treated so unfair.
I want to be Hercules and become powerful,
Become friends with a bear and boogie all down.
I want to scream to the world the sky is falling,
Become a cow on the range.
I want to be a pampered aristocat.
There are so many things I want to do and see in the eye of the magical fantasy.
I want to be a Disney kid.
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Splashing in the salty foam
I caught sight
of a whale.
Not just any whale
but a humpback whale
and I realized
It's wednesday
hump-day
humpback whales swim even on Wednesdays.
Then I realized
it's my birthday
I'm 18
I am an adult
for the first time
in my entire life
& it's gonna be great.
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
Please don't get me wrong.
I appreciate what you are trying to do,
but you don't send salt and pepper to a starving nation.
I've been dealing with assault of the mind
and inflammation of the soul
in a way no whole-wheat diet or
heartburn medication could ever fix.
I've got all these little tips
and all these little tricks
for how to fold anger up like an origami crane
until it looks somewhat like a punchline.
The flaw in the design of this art
is that no matter how many were made
they couldn't cure Sadako's leukemia.
Perhaps it's an ongoing theme in my work
to shirk all these lies I've been told.
To mold the past into a weapon
to harpoon the future with like a humpback whale.
But I've watched razors sail
across the surface of my skin like a hundred tiny boats
and while I'm making my way in this sink-or-float Earth,
I still have the spirituality
to make a penny feel like more than what it's worth.
I can't make your life having meaning.
I can't give you the feeling you get
on that 999th paper crane,
but I spend my whole life trying to catch
thunder in a wine bottle.
It's just a noise,
and it exists only ringing in the ears
of frightened children
and bringing the tears of overjoyed children
in Africa.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 7:30 PM UTC
in our time
we think we know
most animals of the world
from films and videos
yet
seeing
an echidna come out of the underbrush
about to cross the road
but then
looking at all the cameras
deciding to quietly go back home for a while
watching
a young humpback whale
launch her tons out of the sea
in the sheer joy of breaching
falling back in a white splash
that sends your boat rocking
feeling
the hard back of a wombat
under its thick coat of hair
the soft fur of a koala
the cool skin of a blue-tongued lizard
feeding
a wallaby whose sharp claws
tenderly hold your hand
so that the food
does not go away too soon
hearing
the swelling maniacal laughter
of a flock of kookaburras
a pied butcherbird‘s
unbelievably melodious call
you become aware
they are living beings
not just images on the screen
and the little hairs
on the back of your neck
rise
in shock and awe
of life‘s beauty
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 2:01 AM UTC
Whales were,
above all else,
deliberate
about the pace
with which they
moved through the world,
conscientious,
perhaps to a fault,
about the economy of movement
required to propel
such incredible mass over such
enormous, empty spans
of open ocean.
Here is a humpback whale
resting, face-down
staring into the cerulean
abyss, alone
but singing, perhaps for
enjoyment, perhaps out of
boredom, or perhaps due to
loneliness and longing.
She twists
and turns a single eye up toward
the surface, her iris catching
sunbeams and contracting,
as she gauges
the gargantuan effort she must exert
in order to gain her next breath.
In this case, she concludes that, yes,
the effort will be worth it.
But what you must know about
whales is that
on rare occasion,
they would cast these concerns
of intentionality and efficiency aside,
and choose to
activate the entirety of their being,
from the sinews to the soul,
and propel themselves,
heedlessly and at top speed
toward, through, and past the surface of the ocean,
as though they were attempting to
fully take flight,
to escape, with finality,
the cold confines of their known existence,
the omnipresent, furrowed gaze of the void below.
But invariably,
and in spite of their best efforts,
the whales would be pulled
back downward,
by forces they could not
fully comprehend,
sure as the tides would fall shortly after
the moon passed overhead.
Yes, the physical impact of colliding
with the surface of the ocean
would be painful for the whales,
but what hurt
so much more than that
was having to return
to the stark, lonely calculus
of whether or not
to keep going.
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 11:55 AM UTC
There once lived a family of rats, caught up in wires and tubes and they probably thought they had it good until
the car started.
That car’s air conditioning smelled like death stench for weeks, until we
got it looked at.
Who knew we killed a family, who knew they ate their way under the hood,
who knew we killed a family and they reminded us of it for weeks.
——
My mother and father killed my dog, barely big enough to not be called a puppy anymore,
they ran over her,
as she slumbered in the tall weeds and grasses of a field.
——
We had a chicken named Thumper, his body grew big but his head never did,
and he teetered and tottered on ballerina pointed feet, and
the other roosters wanted to
eat him alive.
When we sacrificied him,
my parents plucked his back,
and they saw that his skin was a green-purple secret,
hidden by a humpback and so
many feathers.
——
Our third horse got caught in the river.
Big Mama got caught in Little River.
I guess it’s not surprising when big things die when they get caught in little things.
——
The coyotes got the rest of the chickens.
——
The rattlesnakes almost got the rest of the horses.
——
Most people don’t know that farm-fresh eggs are covered in blood.
——
We had two of the largest, ugliest geese.
They flew away.
——
The cat died under the hot tub,
we couldn’t find her for days.
——
The forest is always a graveyard,
is always hallowed ground,
is where we buried the animals.
Then they built a subdivision.
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 2:22 AM UTC
Once there was a man who had only one friend.
Every day, just before the demise of a cyclamen orange burning ball on the horizon ~ he swam to the shore, waving with a magnificent tail, blowing bubbles and bundles of water and air into the wide open skies.
Under the darkening heavens, he sang the muffled song. Tempting his beloved. . .reaching magic, farther then any sonar's ability. Abnormal coldness froze Icelandic Beauty. But beneath the surface, life was warmer without wars. Dwarf seals were jumping into the laced ocean; trying to cry each time they were cut off the Earth's gravity.
This Mighty friend of an old man, was his only link to the global world. The man was old-fashioned; had no telecommunication facilities, his radio were gulls, stray cats, shepherd dogs and sheep on a green hill, behind his wooden hut.
Sometimes he looked over his shoulder, only to determine whether his elderly donkey is able to follow. . . or do they both need a little rest, just to postpone the books from the saddle for later and spread the beautifully ornamented Indian carpet under the great great grand olive tree ~ to take a reviving little nap in the shade.
When he woke up, the old man lit his wooden pipe, puffed few beautiful rings of indigo smoke, smirked to a buzzing bee and found that the air is still pure enough. The pressure was normal, the wind was playing with wave foams in the neighbouring bay.
Under the olives, hanging from the tree canopy, the quietness was fulfilling the old man's heart. Motionless peace was heard. Tranquility.
And the motion of a Humpback Whale. Leaving.
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
just before never...
*my last performance,
the words came original
and easy, unlike all its
predecessors; someone
drew me a map of my
life and times, cities,
countries, and roads
well travelled and a few,
not too. Mountains, each with
a woman’s name, who carried
care, until she couldn’t, didn’t, and
time’s weathering returned us
individually into hillocks, and then
rain eroded us back into old soil.
the broad highways and back roads,
always snaking away, fork-forcing
directional choices, usually taking the
wrong way, the easy and safe one,
and how I have come to hate those
words: easy and safe, for they
are the pill combo that leaves you
for dead, dulling the questioning
one inquires of oneself, late, reluctantly.
But there is always the unexpected.
Today I saw a sunset on the Hudson
River with a humpback whale blowing,
running beside a river ferry, plowing the
waters back and forth tween two states.
Lived by this river for s e v e n t y years,
and have seen the whales in many places,
but here, in my city, in the river of my youth,
never.
and I got the sign, message received, there
are still sights and poems to behold, arms to
embrace, youngers to guide if they’ll permit it.
so this title, these two, just before,
this day, poem, came to remind me, the
days map remains unfinished, there are lands
and voyages and poems still awaiting drawing,
and it is tomorrow, and just before tomorrow, that
recording insistent demands, and a map is just a
moment in time, until just before...never*
5:28 AM Thu Dec 10
2020 (a year deserving
of its own line and ending)
Manhattan, between two rivers.
Dec 10, 2020
Dec 10, 2020 at 5:48 AM UTC
“Look for the soul,
you become soul;
Hunt for the bread,
you become bread
Whatever you look for,
you are.” – Rumi
A glorious magenta thistle blossom
a humpback whale breaching
a haiku by my friend John
a kitten swatting at a bouncing string
a silent moment just sitting peacefully
Debussy’s La Mer
a giggling baby
a golden leaf falling from oak.
Dec 11, 2021
Dec 11, 2021 at 12:23 PM UTC
they ride along
the mountain road:
kashgar and
the heron girl
crane their necks
to the shaman's haze,
ploughing out
the humpback’s trail.
with a slow hup-hup, up
down powder trot,
a boombox laugh
and a slapstrum knot;
walking the lake,
talking of the bay,
savor the night:
hear what they say!
bronze battalions
beat the prince,
hide the sambas
inside of their hats;
a summer tent,
a sterling pearl:
kashgar and
the heron girl.
they rode along
the mountain road,
past water cranes
and lily haze;
roaming slow
the worldshell snail,
ploughing out
the humpback trail.
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 10:19 PM UTC
In a scribble
grammar-sphere
Covid-spastic-wormholes
from a new world intelligence.
Come on dudes this is a personal invite
who-ever own the guru-rules out there
come clear make contact
let's boogie on Bach
eat together with Spock,
vegans are welcome too
no disecting
no probes
no props
only sunlight strobes
just the few of us
a humpback tv
Danny Glover, Aeon flux
and Spielberg,
indulged in mars bars and smoked-yeast,
if the kitchen heats up I'll offer you
oil Sheik in galaxian crude dip with
elongated Musk on fire and ice.
May 16, 2023
May 16, 2023 at 2:15 PM UTC
sweet dreams to the dismal things
on the shores of an apocalypse
perhaps we are day-dreaming
breathing in these noxious fumes
consuming our own impermanance
is it ignorance of law
or the lure of the commons
that has doomed you
to inhaling all this perfume
threads of light scintillate the moon
an uncommon fuse
forged between your heart and the sun
so come dance and drift
in between rifts of space and time
that melancholy face
oh how i’d love to hold it in my hands
and stand up against you
i never stopped to over-stand you
don't think about it just let it out
before it consumes you
as fast as a spray from a humpback whale
the powers are receding
and we are needing to refill our cups
brunt and blunt like coconuts
what a stunt you pulled
how did you know
that they'd let you get away with it
its phenomenal the mood you instigated
a repatriation of the delegated fields
free of spite and allocated yields
until we became two foolish flowers
that now must die
in order to perpetually bloom
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
Dark clouds, humpback whales, in heat
canoodle and whistle, we hear thunder boom,
sword fish, gleaming silver flash, jump around
the inky sea erupts, in copious rain we are being regaled.
Sep 5, 2012
Sep 5, 2012 at 10:38 AM UTC
The full moon that followed you home
crying petals of light on the shattered remains;
the rooftop of the last and lonely house
The shattered roof of heroes past
no longer holding the weight of the air
Atlas, alone on his mighty steed
sitting atop a fragrant world; The Earth
With hands so large to touch
the humble breast that fills the sky
And the great cloud whale
that devoured the moon that was its eyes
Cloudless night and unblinking Jupiter in Orion
that brought us North following
the great humpback hills of ice
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
May snow in Texas
Surely a sign of cooling
Yet not stressing it
The snowcaps disappear
And ice sheets may be melting
The last coral reef
Is it a cycle?
Come out on the other side?
With many smiles?
Yet where is the bear
And missing the humpback sea
I do feel crowded
Oh well, I'm old
Leave it all to the next group
They can handle it
Just look, can you tell
They won't be smart about it
You can see no care
Forget about that
You didn't care on your turn
And now it's our turn
You had your fun time
So now we want to party
We'll stress later
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
Wonderful town of Whitby, hundreds of marketplaces,
England's own astounding alleys of traditional aces,
Many things this obscure area tends to hide,
the most enjoyable boating docks and brine and quayside.
With cobbled streets aplenty,
Whitby is where I'd like to be,
no matter where on earth,
Whitby is the best for me.
Wonderful town of Whitby, Honour be upon it's history,
But how it's backstory came to be differs as a mystery.
Once upon a supposed legacy of legend and lore,
One quite possibly never seen before.
With it's Mystic vampiric anomaly,
Whitby is certainly my place,
no matter where on earth,
I'd love to be upon this space.
Wonderful town of Whitby, many books wrote about it,
with Whales, abbeys and vampires, it's hard to doubt it,
rare and beautiful creatures, dance within the mist,
Humpback, White and Minkeys on this list.
With it's Whales and sightings,
Whitby is my Sweven,
no matter where on earth,
This town is my Heaven.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
When you fell in love with me
it was the most exhilarating life-style.
We're fabulous and none could tell us
that we were just two ordinary people swooning.
People spoke of remembering the beginning of their own--
comparing their moments to ours
the same places the same people,
but to be honest I never believed a syllable
they whispered our way.
Anyone can recreate a master piece
and say it is identical in every single way.
Though the painter will always look quite different
and their detailed feelings for each stroke
will be the same as a grain of sand
compared to a humpback whale.
These people see love as an comparison story
where they can take notes and read books:
how to deal with happiness or depression
what this means for her and him,
it's the exact same thing for their own relationship.
I simply smile at these folks
they will always wander the grounds behind us
seeking out thoughts
about how to deal with each other.
To them I give a full smile,
where my eyes crinkle at the corners
giving them some peace.
As I take your hand
and tell you about the beach
where we watched whales jump out of the water
and land all over the sand.
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC
Dapple gray harbour
…humpback in breach!
a brown ruffed grouse
with apricot cheeks!
Pileated peckers
in caramel trees
the swirling fall mist
and gusty cold breeze
Bonfires and embers
in a harvest-moon sky
the cider house rules
and baled-hay ride
Warm roasted chestnuts
cozy fall stews
scarecrows and pumpkins
those dark autumn blues!
Parkas and sweaters
with cinnamon shades
a hot mulled wine
in the cornfield maze
Pine cones and acorns
on a brisk fall morn
frosty cold breath
and flannels well worn
Ghosts and goblins
…ole hallows eve!
the landscape covered
in dry golden leaves
A grateful Thanksgiving
with family and song
daylight (un) savings
where shadows grow long!
A north wind whispers
the harvest complete
stack up the woodpile
winter’s in reach!
Storm clouds brewing
the foliage flies
let’s spark up the franklin
and scurry inside!
Pull up a blanket
and call in the cat
...it's a perfect time
for a fireside chat!
Nov 22, 2023
Nov 22, 2023 at 2:20 PM UTC
Stargazer fish, of tactile scope, a firm apparatus of sullen sail
taking on watercrest and nests in song,
in rivaling storyboards hoping children read along
of the pirate’s appendage, the moonlight, the claim rights
every night cries for a villaness to bombard
plunder,
scuttling poetry under
foamy humpback water melted from night sky,
arriving in tides named for our stride
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
Mystic
The air is a mill of hooks -
Questions without answer,
Glittering and drunk as flies
Whose kiss stings unbearably
In the fetid wombs of black air under pines in summer.
I remember
The dead smell of sun on wood cabins,
The stiffness of sails, the long salt winding sheets.
Once one has seen God, what is the remedy?
Once one has been seized up
Without a part left over,
Not a toe, not a finger, and used,
Used utterly, in the sun’s conflagrations, the stains
That lengthen from ancient cathedrals
What is the remedy?
The pill of the Communion tablet,
The walking beside still water? Memory?
Or picking up the bright pieces
of Christ in the faces of rodents,
The tame flower- nibblers, the ones
Whose hopes are so low they are comfortable -
The humpback in his small, washed cottage
Under the spokes of the clematis.
Is there no great love, only tenderness?
Does the sea
Remember the walker upon it?
Meaning leaks from the molecules.
The chimneys of the city breathe, the window sweats,
The children leap in their cots.
The sun blooms, it is a geranium.
The heart has not stopped.
Apr 11, 2016
Apr 11, 2016 at 2:34 AM UTC