"jetty" poems
What is the Secret of your Great Tan Skin?
This be bashful on a Blind Afternoon
With you on Sail, and Tongues burning within
High on a Jetty, the Girls see you soon
Frankly, you the Millennium's Next Best Ken,
Picking Barbie after Barbie on Hors
The other Males sour; Then prune once again
Thinking them robbed from the Best Picks before
See, how your Rome enamourates the World
And letting this pour like an Endless Fall
Splashing on Flesh, to Cologne turning swirl
Eau et de la Belle, who boasts you and all.
Seeing this Promo, this Six-Pack so thin
Still did not respond to your Great Tan Skin.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
I am a goddess of the sea.
My skin is red with sun,
My hair swirls like a jetty.
My eyes are dark green from natural knowledge.
I am a goddess of the sea
And your petty rules and expectations
Have no effect
On us eternals.
I will forever be eight-teen
And have freckles on my nose
And sand in my soul.
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
I
LEAGUERED in fire
The wild black promontories of the coast extend
Their savage silhouettes;
The sun in universal carnage sets,
And, halting higher,
The motionless storm-clouds mass their sullen threats,
Like an advancing mob in sword-points penned,
That, balked, yet stands at bay.
Mid-zenith hangs the fascinated day
In wind-lustrated hollows crystalline,
A wan valkyrie whose wide pinions shine
Across the ensanguined ruins of the fray,
And in her lifted hand swings high o'erhead,
Above the waste of war,
The silver torch-light of the evening star
Wherewith to search the faces of the dead.
II
Lagooned in gold,
Seem not those jetty promontories rather
The outposts of some ancient land forlorn,
Uncomforted of morn,
Where old oblivions gather,
The melancholy, unconsoling fold
Of all things that go utterly to death
And mix no more, no more
With life's perpetually awakening breath?
Shall Time not ferry me to such a shore,
Over such sailless seas,
To walk with hope's slain importunities
In miserable marriage? Nay, shall not
All things be there forgot,
Save the sea's golden barrier and the black
Closecrouching promontories?
Dead to all shames, forgotten of all glories,
Shall I not wander there, a shadow's shade,
A spectre self-destroyed,
So purged of all remembrance and ****** back
Into the primal void,
That should we on that shore phantasmal meet
I should not know the coming of your feet?
3.7k
I
I am in Cardiff
Where foams pummel the jetty
I am in Cardiff
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
I am in Cardiff
Where the Pilot Star became a conch
I was in the ruse of age
Where the young kiss
I was in Joshua Tree
Where the mind is thoughtless
I am a grove's wilting
I will be an unbearable urge
And I am shivering in Santa Ana near Bristol and 1st
II
There is intent when the addict mutters --
Estranged in his unhappy gutters --
"Life is cheap and love is free."
Hopelessness's epitome
Sits naked beyond the wall.
There is derision in the dealer's call --
Osmium-heat in an unimpeded fall --
"You can't change who you are."
Greed could tear down a star
To sculpt into a Cardiff shell.
Warrant breeds within a child's yell.
III
I am in Cardiff
Where foams pummel the jetty
I am in Cardiff
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
I am in Cardiff
Where the Pilot Star became a conch
I was in the ruse of age
Where the young kiss
I was in Joshua Tree
Where the mind is thoughtless
I am a grove's wilting
I will be an unbearable urge
And I am shivering in Santa Ana near Bristol and 1st
Dec 27, 2012
Dec 27, 2012 at 1:44 AM UTC
A jet-ski, jetty bound, disturbs the waves,
While not too far away, on the seabed
Lies the hungry blacktip and hammerhead,
As a nurse explores the undersea caves.
Harvey wouldn’t capture Marlin here,
Just a glance of turtle, seaweed green,
Gasping at the stuffy air, marine,
Gazing at a sunset he should fear.
The sharks hunt for prey in mere hours.
A flock of ching-chings squawk away,
As mosquitoes come out to play,
Darting between darkening flowers.
Through mosquito nets I take a peek,
In oasis that I realise,
Snuggled in a palm tree lies
A curled green parrot, sound asleep.
Jun 4, 2012
Jun 4, 2012 at 10:28 AM UTC
I can take us on a little trip
Just you and I
We can drive to the jetty
And look up at the stars
We can talk about our big plans
Places that you're going
Places that I haven't been
I can show you how deeply one can love another
Reach out for my hand
I can show the side of love
You never thought existed.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
I
I am in Cardiff,
Where waves pummel the jetty
I am in Cardiff,
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
I am nowhere
II
Where the sun severs the street and
Slowly, methodically,
They come, they come.
Electrifyingly stupefied in the dawn,
Tenantry not bound to cause and
Helpless as marred lead in the wind,
Stuck to strata and
Battered under **** pale-green
Thinned on spread fingers.
III
There is intent when the addict mutters ---
Alienated in his nettled gutters ---
"Life is cheap and love is free."
Hopelessness's epitome
Sits naked beyond the wall.
IV
And I am in Cardiff,
Where waves pummel the jetty
And I am in Cardiff,
Where crab skeletons blanch the beach
And I am nowhere
Dec 11, 2012
Dec 11, 2012 at 1:33 AM UTC
It's a dream childhood
taking the ten fifteen autumn ferry
for school on the other side of the river
little white butterflies
petite pretty ribboned
babbling like river ripples
boarding from the jetty in the sky
traveling below billowing September clouds
living only in now breathing joyous
no worry for a future
ferrying along the river
and now is all that counts
counting by the moments
fairy furlongs
on the ten fifteen autumn ferry.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
I love watching swallows
Gyrating and playfully swirls;
Mingle above over the river
Forming in a malee a ball.
Swiftly riding the thermals
Scooping the swelling water.
They shriek wheeling freely
Like boisterous little girls.
I came to see the lively acrobatics
In graceful motion of symmetry.
See enormous body of water flow
Pour itself into it's wide open mouth.
Slowly eroding shaping contours
And lives living along it's banks.
Constantly foreboding danger
And yet beauty and the mighty
Together in harmonious chemistry.
There I was many hours
In thought. What do I ever get?
At the jetty by the imperious
River where until dark I will be.
Time spent the opportunities
Passing by I have no regrets.
I'm like a ship from harbour
To harbour of a predestined life
With cargoes of worthless experience
Till I rot at the bottom of the sea.
Laboriously river meander and flow
Agile wings twist and turn in the air
With invisible brush of arcs and lines
With a vast sky as an open canvas.
The two characters, elements
Of nature, demonstrate their part;
In the theater of strength and grace.
While I am but a nameless intruder
Grateful of the kindness forever last.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
the ladies oh the ladies louder now
celebrate christmas with a almighty roul
you see christmas is the time of the year where we party right
like drinking alcohol and get ****** yeah that is quite great
you see kids see Santa and ask them what would they like
and the ladies buy the men a cordless drill
as well as the men giving a ladies a big diamond ring
yeah we will party with the song
we wish you a jetty christams we wish you a merry christmas
and a happy new year
christmas is the time of year to Party party party
and you get some eggnog and say come on ya ****** smarty
oh dudes we will lift up our glassed and sing
to the christ child the nirvanaly king
you see christmas is the happiest time
for a happy dude like me, to enjoy life too
silent night holy night all is calm all is bright
round yon ****** mother and child
once in royal davids city the party is on for young and old
as santa goes a travelling through the computer
giving presents to everyone there
and then on the first day of christmas my truelove gave to me
a dollar so i buy a homeless man his tea
if that isn’t enough, how about just leave it in his hat
so he could add it up and buy many more dinners from all the money he raised
away in a manger no crib for a bed
the little lord buddha laid down his sweet head
he would wake up and say, i control the 3 kings of orient are
i bare gifts as i travel afar
i am dreaming of a white christmas, well stop cause in Australia it’s too **** hot
for it’s the summer weather, the bbqs are lit together
as we are a walking around singing a song living in a summer wonderland
on the beach we can build a sandcastle and bury poor old patrick in the sand
and then he will jump and SHUT UP, why don’t you give your family a ****** woman a ****** hand
then we jump in the saddle nice and quick all in there with good saint nick
Feliz Navidad i want to wish a merry Christmas
i wish you a merry christmas form the bottom of my heart, i lost when my friends treat me like a criminal
six white boomers six white boomers racing good old Patrick through the blazing sun
then Patrick sent to santa what about the toys
aren’t you giving these to all the boys and girls
or are you saying that boys are better than girls like a cool kid that you are
a pair of hoppalong boots and pistol that shoots,is a gift for Patrick and Wayne
dolls that will talk and go for a walk a grift from Joanne and Paula
now dudes as i am prepared to party on dude till the break of dawn
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:47 PM UTC
There was once a young girl named Betty
Who watched the boats sail from her jetty
She sometimes got wet
Splashed by a fisherman’s net
That soggy little sailor our Betty
——————————————-
The intrepid explorer known as Betty
Set off in search of the yeti
She looked high and low
With Lucy and Joe
Then showered the beast with confetti
——————————————
Cooking up a storm with Betty
Her speciality is scrumptious spaghetti
We’ll wolf it all down
She’ll feed half the town
Then wash it down with a Birra Moretti
——————————————-
Have you seen that beauty called Betty?
It was love just as soon as she met me
A head of silk hair
An inquisitive stare
I would eat her if only she’d let me
Jan 2, 2019
Jan 2, 2019 at 7:15 PM UTC
Was the heat that melted to the seat
She stood out in the lawn
A cigarette hangs from her lips
As she pins clothes to the line
Hot devil heat
Firecracker town
Downtown
Not too hot for coffee
Or the wide open window
The waitress wears her same Sunday dress
That girl has got to let go
Sugar cookie skin
Making smiles at the manager
Even when everyone
In their right mind is looking
It's a street or two to the sea
A ritualistic walk of black frying pan
Asphalt
Barefoot and broken
I climb to the end of the jetty
As the sun starts to set
If you were here this is where I would take you
On the edge of the sea
Where no one is looking
I would try to kiss you
Or hold your hand
But I know you would just laugh and say
"You're such a silly boy"
So I know better
So the sun sets
The stars come out with the moon
So beautiful on the sea
God **** its so beautiful!
I just wish you could see
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 2:53 PM UTC
Seagulls hit the horizon's backboard
off the sands of Pacific Beach.
In my lungs breakers burn out
some forty feet from shore.
They will return.
This jetty'd be a monolith
if this ocean were a sky.
Silt on this deserted
coast scene is encumbered by
bits of driftwood and sun-bleached glass.
The living in this town
are accustomed to the weight. And
tidepools are their hearts:
shallow, mossy, little things
fending for breathe.
This jetty'd be a monolith
if this ocean were a sky.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 3:03 PM UTC
My treasured Spirit; Finally,
Slumber finds me.
Alone; Besides our long deserted shore.
With warm lips; the taste
pomegranate wine
… and memories;
Our time.
Our chalice to saver;
Lingering sweet
… for you.
Sand stretches
… against the weary tide.
And, and so do I…;
Weary am I
… for the sweet caress of your arms.
Memories, memory is all there is…;
And wanting… ;
Time stands still
Absent of my heart
I wait…
For your return.
Time;
Tide;
… the stars themselves fill the void;
…with sound.
The sunset moves
… beyond a wayward shore.
In silence,
I am without you.
I may drown;
Sweet spirit,
I am weary
… for you;
I wait
… once more;
Waves
… ride the tide.
Wind
… sways trees.
Stars dance and weave my dreams;
Desire;
… my desire
Feels the sea.
Maybe tonight;
Tonight,…
Tonight you will reach…
My need
My love
Along our lonely beach.
The sweet scent
Salty air.
A warmth
I feel you
…beyond the jetty’s break
In the wind
I hear your heart
Beating
Or… is it mine?
Am I all alone?
You possess me;
My heart.
I feel your touch
… In me
As soft waves glide
I sense your touch;
…I am free.
Kisses so yielding;
Gentle lips
… touch the air.
Sultry tingles …
Glide between nap and nape.
Despite fingertips
…flexing;
exploring sand.
Clinging
Wanting
…your touch.
Warm;
Wet;
Sand;
Gulls, cry out;
Dawn;
Time moves
A new day
Wakes
Still,… My treasured Spirit;
You are gone
… beyond the sea.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:51 AM UTC
the first thing I notice is the jetty
the waves littered with little feet and bouncing foam and
bobbing buoys of women, two of which
call me to remove my boots
and let water lick clean
old clammy toes
but I walk out on the jetty
past the rock where scuttling children fear their mothers will forget them
past the crop of young fishermen, smiling between tides of beer and
counting the fish they have yet to catch by the worms they have
in their new tackle boxes
past an empty can of Budweiser
past an old bucket of bait that even the gulls wont touch
deeper into the bird **** that paints this rock thumb
pock marked with bowls of orange soup-
carapace and minnow bones
denying a smoke in favor of the ocean’s oyster breath
trading the cooling molten gold of a California beach
for something I was sure would only be found
where this putrid jetty purged into the sea
and I was close
even as you drove me home
I couldn’t forgive you for following me there
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 6:27 AM UTC
Memories of Ignorance!
Survey the bay.
Dolphins play just off shore in sapphire half-light.
Roll of warm water,
Lapping jetty's edge.
Ocean treasures frolic.
Almost laughing in unison.
Tranquil in virtual silence they splash.
Warmth left engraved in heartfelt memories.
Was no tropical lagoon.
Torbay as a child.
My home.
Distant to me now.
Fond memories bless my mind.
Parents in tow.
Not sure who led who.
Not dolphins at all.
Porpoise.
Still elegant.
Departing parents separated.
Never forgot the place.
I miss the sea.
Like a dolphin I'm free.
On my last visit.
Committed Father to the flames.
Without him.
I'm shamed.
My memories of him.
Few and far between.
He too was a poet.
When alive.
Had no chance to say 'bye bye'
A total lack of interest felt.
So tell me please.
When at his funeral.
Why in hell's name did I melt.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
The sea's grown calm,
Just two days out,
Finally,
The ice is in our wake,
We're thinking of a
Run ashore,
We've earned it,
Six days through
The sea smoke,
Fog,
Ice bergs,
Bergy bits,
Growlers,
All the usual debris
Of travel in these parts,
Now the only debris,
Pods of whales,
Folks pay to see them,
We get paid to see 'em,
Sort of,
It's been a long cruise,
But still,
We are getting paid,
In the morning,
We'll give the ship
A bath,
And get ready for
A real reward,
There's got to be
Some reward,
For vigilance,
And boredom
All across the pond,
And there is a reward,
There'll be Newfie merchants
On the jetty,
Bringing to us,
Barrels of...
Lobsters,
They don't have much,
In Newfie Land,
But lobsters they've got,
An over supply,
We'll bring 'em home,
Steamed and frozen,
Ready to eat,
And while we're here,
Perhaps a little beer,
A reward for not hitting
A single whale,
Let's keep the Navigator sober,
Insurance that he miss
Sable Island,
On the next leg south,
After all,
It's the last leg home.
And so,
St. John's,
Not a garden spot,
But good enough,
To be the last stop.
Oct 24, 2011
Oct 24, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
Come take our boy, and we will go
Before our cabin door;
The winds shall bring us, as they blow,
The murmurs of the shore;
And we will kiss his young blue eyes,
And I will sing him, as he lies,
Songs that were made of yore:
I'll sing, in his delighted ear,
The island lays thou lov'st to hear.
And thou, while stammering I repeat,
Thy country's tongue shalt teach;
'Tis not so soft, but far more sweet
Than my own native speech:
For thou no other tongue didst know,
When, scarcely twenty moons ago,
Upon Tahete's beach,
Thou cam'st to woo me to be thine,
With many a speaking look and sign.
I knew thy meaning--thou didst praise
My eyes, my locks of jet;
Ah! well for me they won thy gaze,--
But thine were fairer yet!
I'm glad to see my infant wear
Thy soft blue eyes and sunny hair,
And when my sight is met
By his white brow and blooming cheek,
I feel a joy I cannot speak.
Come talk of Europe's maids with me,
Whose necks and cheeks, they tell,
Outshine the beauty of the sea,
White foam and crimson shell.
I'll shape like theirs my simple dress,
And bind like them each jetty tress,
A sight to please thee well:
And for my dusky brow will braid
A bonnet like an English maid.
Come, for the low sunlight calls,
We lose the pleasant hours;
'Tis lovelier than these cottage walls,--
That seat among the flowers.
And I will learn of thee a prayer,
To Him who gave a home so fair,
A lot so blest as ours--
The God who made, for thee and me,
This sweet lone isle amid the sea.
1.3k
I'm awokenby the near-deafening sound
of the lighthouse fog horn,
as if the sun sent me a wake-up call
so that I could rise with it simultaneously.
Through my open window
the fresh salt air
is pushed into my nose and lungs
by the winds from the breath of the ocean.
I hear what sounds like a low murmur of pre-movie theater chatter of seagull caws
outside my window.
I look out over the water
and see the waves of high tide crashing against the jetty.
As the perfectly blended colors of the sunrise flood my vision,
I smile because I know that I am home.
May 2, 2012
May 2, 2012 at 10:21 PM UTC
it's the middle of
the afternoon
on one of those warm
winter days,
that hold the promise
of summer inthe brightness
of the sun..
and we three are at the park
having swung to the sky
on the swings, gone up and slid down the slippery dip
a dozen times
and made ourselves dizzy
on the merrygoround
we now sit quietly, watching
pelicans and ducks
icecream, soft serves melt
in hands and on toungue.
when we are down here
we will go down to the jetty
and throw our bread upon
the water for ducks and pelicans to squabble over
and then home to play
in the garden....
before dinner.......
there is a simplicity
to this.....yet it deserves
to be written... for it is too beautiful an afternoon
to be forgotten
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:03 AM UTC
I met one of my soulmates once.
He died in Maine, my favorite place.
I don't go there anymore.
I don't think about it anymore, really.
Except for days like today,
when there are leaves in the air and
I'm stuck staring at the water.
Remembering how he put my life in limbo,
how he awakened a part of me,
who he made me become via domino effect.
The way his hair ruffled up in the salty air,
looking back to see his slightly reddened cheeks mirroring my own.
Him chasing me on the jetty,
staring out into the waves glinting like gold on the crest.
The sand and the sun and the movement.
He was a word I don't use.
I hide it deep inside of me.
I hide the loving adoration,
I hide the fact that I too,
had some of Lolita's charm lurking in me.
Waiting for the right person to bring it out.
He stunned me.
He made me a ***** a wanton *****
And I loved him for it.
My hair still curling at the edges,
like a young child's does.
I was a young child.
And he, a man much older,
a man daring and dashing and perverted
enough to make me lose my innocence.
To make me love.
He killed himself three years after knowing me.
He did this to himself.
We both know that, even now.
I still think about his touch, his mouth, his laughter.
It has been seven years since I have known it,
since I have felt him,
and I still am left with a burning need.
This is what a ********* did to me.
He may have hung himself that day in Maine,
but he did not **** the secret or the desire.
I have felt the toxicity of touch, and I seek it every day.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
Take my hand, walk into the darkness.
The place we know, is hidden.
And I want to share the unknown,
Tangled in your embrace.
Even if there are no answers,
At least we will be free.
At least we’ll have seen.
And our hearts will be beating.
Pull me in and I’ll stay.
There is no world other than this:
Sitting on these jetty stones,
Cooling against our bones.
The sun setting behind silhouette trees,
Mirrored water, a timeless love.
Our souls burning with emotion,
Warming the cooling world,
Safe in this place.
We have this place.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 8:39 PM UTC
Paragon of love
The depths;
Dark,
Deep,
Desirous;
To fly beneath
White foamy lines
Yielding tide. guide me;
Inhale
Exhale
Trembling;
This need to reach.
Beloved;
To touch You…
Beyond breathe
Past… the sand.
Water splashes
… caressing toes.
Standing,
Waiting
…along our sandy shore.
Once more…,
Water welcomes
… another sunset.
Faintly, lights awake;
A dance like heartbeats
… to delight the sound;
White tips glisten
… touching darkness.
Stars shimmer
… along the deep.
Above;
Below;
Take my heart
… onto the horizon;
To home;
To you
Your binds reach;
Hearts bellow
A longing to reach
… fills me.
My heart desires
… to reach;
You.
Salty scent;
Eyes close
Cool spray
... tingle my lips
The taste
Your skin
I feel ... the want
The need;
…your pull.
Far beyond,
… the jetty’s hold;
A deepening thirst
Summons.
So deep…
So familiar…
So yielding…
To you; My Love
Just beyond … the horizon’s break
A soft sensation rides.
Guide me;
Beckon my heart. Beloved;
Beckon me
… beyond the waves.
Echoes, echoes,…
Echoes of love;
Call long
To this, tinder spirit
Yours
… left to drift.
I feel you
Reaching.
Your breath Calls;
A sound to entice.
Breathe, breathing
… beyond the sands of time;
Through hazy silence;
Oh, sweet, gentle submergence
Waves clash upon my flesh
To feel…
Your pull
Memories, such memories;
The sweet salty taste
To embrace you;
My love
Yearning;
Yearning;
To yearn…
Your essence touch.
Once more
Waves force me back;
Tides froth
… covers me
Stumbling;
Tumbling;
Tossed
... upon the shore
As an old oyster’s shell.
Love, daylight returns
Once more, our ocean…
Ours;
Keeps us
The deep;
The deep
Is…
Too deep.
So much water
Left only to thirst;
For you.
Beloved; To time and tide…
A pearl.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 2:42 AM UTC
I hadn't meant to spy on them; just one of my evening walks along the beach. Moonlight gleaming on wet teenage backs. Horseplay crackling in their young male voices-- “King of the Hill” from a rusty life guard chair. I like these memories, the ones that just occur-- when everything is there again....
Coming to find myself again in October. Long trudge to the “Shanty Village” gets me thinking about the wrinkled hand that first took me close to the ageless roar and seething. Skirted bathing suit, indelible tremble of voice-- the woman bringing me beyond the fear that had watched all day from those cautious castles, after being so rudely trounced! She helped me make my peace with what I could neither own nor tame— the sea and me. We walked along the channel then, watching slender fishes in their school-- that even fish would go to school! We had to laugh. Scorching the soles of my feet in the parking lot! Oo-ah-oo-ah! Forgot my flip-flops!
_____
October now, piling sand along the roadside.... First kiss at Cooks Brook Beach. Surf breaking over this jetty, could have been my heart. I think his name was Stan....
How can people leave their flowers still blooming in window boxes? In the cottage quiet, I can almost picture... bicycles leaning by dripping shower stalls. Beach umbrellas, the smell of suntan lotion, kids roving in barefoot bands.... Fall packs them all away.
While cold advances on the struggling song of crickets, a man, wearing a painter's hat and whistling, does the unthinkable-- hammers plywood over his shanty's windows. I think that summer people can close their eyes. We, of October, have vivid memories-- savoring sources that linger in their endings. Coming late—staying long beyond the leaving-- sleeping warm in winter sands.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 2:05 PM UTC
Flurries of birds lament with me,
alone on this rock, as I appear to be.
But sat with the island, solice offered their calls
In front of the lake, it is not who enthralls
Who used to circle around my hand,
the last of the hourglass, lonely piece of sand.
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 4:15 PM UTC