"paddles" poems
There were dividing lines
between Springfield
and Mariners Gate
soft, subtle lines
that spoke of origin
and code
and biting union
it was all
the reason
for being;
alive and living
dead or dying
deep in a pack
of pint size resistors
hell bent on the
marsh crow
and cannabis tower
jumping the rush
with *** shots
and anchors
and tribunals
camouflage creepers
and transient floaters
marked rebellion at the gates
(skullduggery and taunt
high on their favor list)
jack straws and flat paddles
for the evening charade
beakers and flailing hands
from the foot washing baptist
(the Pleasant Street conservatives with their
own something to say…“there’s gonna be hell to pay!”)
there's a
lingering effect
to this sentiment
(evident in the pump house stride)
the river winds
blow gently
into the night
as the huddling packers
and **** backs
chase the evening hours
it’s a bitter sweet
end of an era;
those traction bars
hood scoops
and nickel bags
will always
be the rage
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 11:13 PM UTC
In That Moonlit Night Standing In The Abaft,
Watching The Towed Flaccid Wooden Raft,
I Thought That I Saw An Angel Resting,
Lying Exhausted There In That Craft.
I Call The Girl Out Unbeknownst Of Her Kind Name,
"Hey Young Lady!!" To Which She Didn't Much Respond,
She Looked Up Towards Me Once In Anguish & Collapsed,
I See Desperation In Her Amber Eyes & Resolve To Help Her.
The Crewmen Had Now Been Doing The Paddles After Resting,
I Summon My Captain & Ask, "Do You See That Girl In The Raft?"
The Senile Captain Smiles To Say, "Commodore, Better Get Married,"
I Look Just Clueless To Which He Simply Replies, "There Is No Girl."
True He Was As She Had Simply Disappeared,
I Started Thinking Of My Sleep Needs That Day,
I Looked Around Again In A Hope To Find The Girl,
I Had Compromised My Routine As The Commodore.
Then I Immediately Realized It Was My Wild Phantasm,
Now This Was Just A Plain Illusion Of A Tired Sailor's Mind,
No Mermaids Could Have Ever Existed In Reality & Were Fake,
I Turned Towards The Deck To Go Back To My Bunk For Sleeping.
As I Climbed Down The Stairs To Enter My Room Amazed & Dazed,
I Saw Her Standing And Waiting For Me By The Side Of My Bunk,
I Accepted That Delusion Of My Mind & Started To Lie Down,
She Said, "I'm As Real As Your Thoughts, Don't Fear Me."
She & I-Me & Her, Had The Best Time That Night,
In The Morning She Was Gone & Was Just Gone,
Disappeared Into Thin Air While I Was Asleep,
Each Day I So Dearly Long For Her To Return.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 2:06 AM UTC
like that pill bitter Sunday morning (after)
with a nauseating hack
the previously uneventful Tuesday
derailed
in surrealistic tale
with Auntie and Jack (and a quarter of fate)
in the 748
on a night flight
from Sherwood to Lore
reverberating waves
of imminent summer haze
river flats
and flower fields
fly weights
and silver bait
shredders and shysters
and open gates
(into those everlasting
and sweated journeys of hope)
bloods and strays
and florentine grays
(reminiscent of Rockwell fame)
running horses
and overgrown country lanes
morning grace
and gentle cheer
eyes clear
on the river pass
*blunted paddles for those ancient
and not so willing suckers!*
duke making his own way
(to the corner club)
Parsons and Poe
stream from the torn screen door
cricket cadence
and symphony of the Deere
calm and deliberate
in the soft
and silent fields
meadows open for grazing
(guineas scamper across the till)
pocket apples fill
the country ripe air
drunken bees
and chestnuts
and electric fingers
strike the surface pool
(a cedar strip wedged on the white wash dock)
baited bull heads set to cast
evenings with hearts
and Nolten Nash
may flowers bloom
across the grass
~ time unmatched ~
with blue jays
and river bends
and channel cats
...and that warm
and recurring
Coleman drift
May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
We were poets,
Once,
Hearts etched upon our sleeve
The lords of our intent,
Words bloomed for all to see.
Each branch of thought considered,
Chiseled,
Whittled to express.
Carving the forest in our likeness
We paved the landscape with our breath.
Woods would sway in idle days
Sunkissed glades lay bathed in gold.
Nights waylaid by dancing maids
Cheap ale and tales of old.
Fires burn, flames unfold.
Though
Embers remember
Tender clutch of the cold.
We tend to forget the bargained,
The sold.
Up rivers and creeks,
Paddles, disowned by the meek,
Cast away to distant shores.
Glades decay,
Fade to grey.
We become poets once more.
Apr 13, 2017
Apr 13, 2017 at 4:01 AM UTC
if you're lost without direction
i will be one of maybe just a few
i can be your own compass
let me encompass you, when
direction is unknown my arms
are a place to move,
come in enjoy the warmth
for i will always face
north straight true
when your life is all recessions
and really all depressions too
let me be
your
compass
let me come encompass you
your Longitude and Latitude are
all thrown
in a muck
let me get you to a place,
where you wont feel so stuck
The tropic of cancer
Is not a place for one to linger
if you need to grab my hand
hold on like i'm your stringer
when you cant
gasp another
breathe and
there isn't
anything
you can do
come, and let me be your
compass, let me come
and encompass you
every sigh you relieve
will help find you on
the map, and every
time you squeeze
my hands, will help
you to relax
this world is full of problems, one
thing that im for sure, so lets forget all
the complacent and replace them with
something more, wipe away your
tears you wont need them where
we are going. if your lost ill be
your paddles we can find the
way together and just like
a little compass ill
be here forever
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
Just ten minutes after I'd revved the engine
I was only nine miles away from the love of my life
Day dreaming of when we’d met just eight short months ago
Soaring at seventy down that country road
Only six more miles until she’d be in my arms again
Five years ago thoughts of love would have seemed so far out of sight
Yet four times I've already proposed, “too soon,” she’d always say
Amazing how in three seconds your entire life can change
With just two tires there’s little room for error
When one blew out I hit the asphalt, hard
In a wreck like that there’s zero chance I’d survive
One hour later the ambulance arrived at last
EMTs pressed two paddles against my chest
Shocks were delivered three times
At the hospital doctors performed four operations
Five months I spent in a coma
Followed by six months of physical therapy relearning to walk
In time all seventeen broken bones had set and healed
It cost me eight grand to buy a new bike
Now nine years later I’m still riding, fearless, wife on the back
The tenth time I asked, she finally said yes
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
My heart is like a singing bird
Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;
My heart is like an apple-tree
Whose boughs are bent with thickset fruit;
My heart is like a rainbow shell
That paddles in a halcyon sea;
My heart is gladder than all these
Because my love is come to me.
Raise me a dais of silk and down;
Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,
And peacocks with a hundred eyes;
Work it in gold and silver grapes,
In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;
Because the birthday of my life
Is come, my love is come to me.
5.4k
Plush and Prim is your White, Feathery Plume
Soft the Inertia of your Thighs update
I pray this time, your Victory resume,
Revive your Year's Fortress not far too late
In your eyes you reject the Gambler's View
For no such Attitude ever won Hearts
The Paddles you took - timed and faster blue
Were enough for us to make Key Remarks
This Beauty, defined as Hair-Painted Wind,
Tad effort needed to brush your Canvas red
Pour out! Pour out! Pour, Passion's Purest Sprint
And let your Spirit drape these Words instead:
I'll just be right here, cheering for your Cause
Whether win or lose my Soul will not pause.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:49 AM UTC
He's found himself in the closet
After he lost to himself in a game of tic-tac-toe
And tied his lobster bib tightly
Then hid his cheat sheet, for the pop quiz he knew was soon to come
It's curtains for her
She let the cat out of the bag
And now she's up **** creek with ****** for paddles to go **** herself with
Right in the birth canal
Then we'll auction off the ******
We'll pass them off as European defibrillators
Maybe some extremist will want them
If we spew out enough mindless dribble
The All Time Shit-Show is about to begin
We have
The Chronic Masturbater
The Hypochondriac
And The Pathological Liar
It was either sometime yesterday
Or sometime tomorrow
Or was it sometime today?
That you were all going to make fun of the boy with the cleft lip down at the laundromat?
Out of the three of you The Pathological Lair sticks out like a sore thumb
I can tell he was the runt of the litter
Who always bites off more than he can chew
I see the Hypochondriac has convinced himself he has eczema
He rattles off all his symptoms
Inordinate filibustering
Now there's the Chronic Masturbater
He looks like he's over the hill
He's only twenty one
But the blue circles under his eyes and the deep defined lines on his forehead denote his inelegant aging
I sign all your lives away in my horrible cursive
And now you belong to the ragtag trigger-happy posse of gun-jumpers
My billfold his happily filled
So I must go do some reconnaissance
Spy on those who have quit their day jobs
The fish out of water
You must find that thing that really rolls off the tongue with a nice ring to it
******
*******
*******
*******
No...
Go hang youself with dental flossed you home-schooled fool
Indentured servants we're just an after thought
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Let's see
When she visits I'll need
Rubbers, fresh and non latex
Oil to rub in gently
To work my arms out
To prevent pain whilst issuing it out
Whips, and maybe a couple of paddles and
Chains
Because i know she's into pain
Maybe even an umbrella, or a nicely made cane
....
I think thats it
Ive quite the checklist!
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 11:46 PM UTC
glowing waters, tranquil as though the ocean were holding its breath
and yet breathing in and out, in and out
rhythmic, an inexorable drum
an explosion of ripples as I drop the kayak in,
the disturbances swallowed by marsh grass, waving in protest
murmuring to be still, stay still.
I shift in my seat, heartbeat in my ears, loud breathing
scared of being swallowed, lost to depths where darkness clung –
yet hardly imaginable in this world of dripping sunlight.
dip the paddle in, tasting the waters
right, left, right, left
cautious, careful, clumsy at first
splashes of droplets as I pick up the pace,
salt on my tongue, tasting the burn.
the pull and tug of muscle against the world, a silent war
the ocean protesting futilely, but
surrendering to the kayak with a creaking moan
as I shoot through the water like an arrow, splitting the curling, white-crested sea.
the wind picks at my braid and throws it to the past with a lingering sigh
my paddles cutting through that glossy mirror of cloud and sunshine
shards of brilliantly stained glass.
Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 10:38 PM UTC
hickory nuts
and wind trees
are keeping
at the old buckle bay
light house corners and
shaker church craft
slip anchor on the southern tip
secret legions
and phenolic board
tuck in at gout dock
bands and nations
and miracle speak
fill in the center hall
sand hooks
and water domes
cover wharf road
***** bay toppers
and seven horse chugs
scatter the swollen upper deck
packards and pushers
and rusty back rails
skirt the night
lanterns and sterns
and navy gulls
steady on task
sand cakes
and drift wood
held tight on
the mystery tour
yellow tails
and tide pools
flat line
at royal reach
paddles
and cables
find ripples way
smugglers and smitties
take cover
from a
northern gale
down on
pocket shoal
there’s a graceful hue
~ they’re serving up
belons and xan…
it's time to get in
for a fill
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:12 PM UTC
I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from the sun
black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
for silvery fish to fill his beak
a small boat I rowed
long through water weeds, cat tail reeds
paddles cut the diamond day sparkling
sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells shimmering blue
oysters bubbled, shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming
a beach fire to warm the night
the dusky sun, no longer to keep
soon the moon between the trees
radiant, it wakes the stars from sleep
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
As the Paddles were used to stroke Against the Resistance of the Water, Thereby Attempting to insure their Progress, for the Ultimate Destination across the Mighty Ocean currents. Each stroke of the OARS met more resistance by the people manning the ship. The Sweat began to increase on each brow, But yet they Never gave up Their earnest Efforts. Even as the Winds increased and the Current became stronger,, They pressed on toward Their Destination. Each was Driven to Dig Deeper within themselves, For the Stroking had become Most Difficult!! But they were not Deterred... They knew that the Reception waiting for them on the other side, Would be worth every bit Of Effort. They Had to Endure!! As they kept their focus on the ultimate Goal,,They remained Undisturbed by the Leaks, Broken Oars, Strong Currents, Ever Increasing Winds AND Shouts of Dismay among the weak. The waves began to break over the Bows of the Boat, But the OARS DUG DEEPER and Deeper, Drawing them ever so Closer to the Shoreline that NOW came into view.. Having seen the Shoreline, A Great Surge of Energy came upon Each Person as they STROKED FORWARD. EACH person continued to the the Very End,, With that very Unusual Smile on his face and a special kind of light in in His Eye. *KNOWING FULL WELL How great the Ultimate Goal would BE. Are You prepared for the Proper use of "YOUR OARS" ??
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 5:00 AM UTC
Hood Canal
I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from stars of sun
Black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
silvery fished his netted beak
A small boat left untied to float, I rowed
weaving cat tail reeds, long through water weeds
Paddles cut my diamond day - sparkling
jewel of soul swayed, prayed to dive me deeper
Sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells covered shimmering blue
Oysters bubbled shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming
Beach fire to warm the night
and rock the dusky sun to sleep
the coming moon between trees
dark night, the stars to weep
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
The kaleidoscope patterns of our footprints in the sand
And those of the seagulls that litter the beach
Like black and white winged pebbles
Are slowly being washed away by the rising water line,
Time and the encroaching tide welcoming us
Into the sea, with the Dolphins and the mermaids
Swimming and lounging on little mountains of rock
Close to the shore, beckoning us into their world.
Our world lies further back, behind the tide line,
The umbrellas and sunscreen and such
To shield us from the blazing sun
That sustains all life in their realm and ours,
And is, perhaps, the first and strongest connection we share
In this blinding world of sand and sunshine,
Where we and them become us.
We wade into the sea, all tentative, coltish legs
And shivers as the waves crash over us.
Everything turns magical as we dive in,
The underwater world blinding us with
It's salty, sandy currents and steams,
But through the rose tint borne
Of our foreignness in this place,
All I can see are dreams coming true.
A lady of the sea paddles up to us,
Offering us her treasures if we'll come
Live in her coral home and breathe the same salt water,
And I, lost in her world, found in her beauty,
Reach out to take her pale hand in mine,
And become as she says,
"I am yours, forever now, as you are forever mine."
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Woke up early morn at three AM
Another night closer to heart of thee I swam
Wading depths to feel your passionate caress
Winds beneath the clouds push my stars to fluoresce
Current tides waves to embrace shores in loves solitude
Memories paddles melodies as though gently canoed
Thoughts stayed in mind as time ticked from three to six
Breaking dawn colors another day with your timeless pics
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 7:51 PM UTC
the moon in my city,
a hazy crestfallen hue,
those who gaze up to
its beauty, remain few...
the moon in my city,
betrays a tired air,
wrinkled stench in
reflection, oh despair!
the moon in my city,
glides the benign sky,
paddles a silver paddle,
bemoaning why, why, why!
the moon is my city,
but has a mother's heart,
it forgives oh so easily,
so gently does it part,
for at the break of dawn,
or on a pensive twilight,
look, there is the moon,
in eternal evasive flight!
the moon in my city,
the moon in my city...
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Splish splash splish splash
Into the water
My paddles crash
Neither a care nor a bother
Gliding along
I listen to the river's song
My mind it soothes
My soul it moves
Silver flashes
As a drum flits by
And otter play
So pleasing to my eye
Water sloshes against my boat
While I watch an eagle fly
Man I love to float
Muddy waters flow on by
Man I love to float
May 28, 2015
May 28, 2015 at 2:48 PM UTC
Black lake reflects a trail of ivory plumes,
Cockatiel's alabaster tail of feathers.
Such loveliness can only be the moon's,
Which skinny-dips in lunar altogethers.
Raccoons catch fish along the shore,
Fastidious paws clutching their prizes.
She paddles her canoe with silent oar,
Observing nature's soft nocturne disguises.
Silhouetted loons rock low upon the waves,
Asleep till sunlight sets them to their songs.
Her wake bisects the path the moon engraves,
As wilderness whispers tranquilly she belongs.
She'll stay the night foregoing comfort fire,
Moonlight enough by which to pitch a tent.
And come tomorrow should anyone inquire,
No trace reveals her overnight encampment.
Feb 20, 2012
Feb 20, 2012 at 5:23 PM UTC
How recklessly we tossed that eve,
Draped with velvet ocean throws,
Into the shimmering, emerald sea.
Hearts blind to beat so tenderly,
Though, we shall nevermore bestow
How recklessly we tossed that eve.
From red wine stains to sand-scraped knee,
With indulgent paddles we did row
Into the shimmering, emerald sea.
Love, cleanse this foggy memory.
If lust had your purest sight, we'd know
How recklessly we tossed that eve.
A grain with highest majesty;
A salty mist, who danced so slow
Into the shimmering, emerald sea.
The deepest amity we sowed
to root your sighs inside my soul;
How recklessly we tossed that eve
Into the shimmering, emerald sea.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 10:14 PM UTC
If nice guys finish last, then call me an ******* Im done being the nice guy, im done playing that role. Because society doesnt care if you can save the human race. All they seem to care about is stuffing their own face. With fast food, and expensive gifts, with cool gadgets and lavish trips. This world is selfish and does not care for you, so you might as well loose the nice guy attitude. Your friends may say they like your nice guy ways. But lets be honest, love and affection cant get you recognition and fame. Life is cold, life is bleak. Like having no paddles going up a muddy creak. Love is blind, so you will never find, that special someone, that someone to call mine. So why be nice, when no one cares. Why be nice, when life isnt fair. Why be nice, when no one sees you. Why be nice, when no one cares what you do. So call me and ******* call me a **** call me a huge, monsterous ***** But dont call me the nice guy, you'll only make me sick. So here's some advice, if you want to get ahead in life. Forget about fairytale endings, forget about the lavish white weddings, forget about being nice and allways doing right. Cuz life ***** and blows, like a five dollar ***** So get use to those sores, cuz thats what lifes for. ******** you from behind, when you've been nothing but kind. Giving someone your heart, and getting nothing from start. Working your *** off for that spot, only to loose what you got. So **** it all, and **** my life. Get use to these phrases and get use your strifes. And get use to never being right. Cuz when life kicks in, you've already lost the fight!
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
This is my body
I have Redwood skin – thick, fire retardant
It’s especially necessary due to the
Cracked chest cavity I carry underneath my coat, thick
And thankfully so, so I mark my bark with pinches and pulls,
Never changing, never ready for the vacant eyes of strangers
Reading me like last weeks old newspaper,
Just a passage of time, a bleak hobby.
This is my heartbeat,
More like heart pound,
Like a body buried in the burning earth
Pounding against my brittle bones, begging
For the bang of a gun,
To start the race, to end the war
Suffocated by caffeine infused blood that
Doggie paddles through me,
Losing the race against ghosts
Until I’ve
Lost my breath.
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 3:33 PM UTC
Plenty of parking for people
to penatrate the park
with their paddles and packs
prepared to take prolonged trips
for picinics out of purple and pink
plaid biodegradable packets
presented perfectly perferated for pouring
packets can be used for proccessing your potent ***
for proper and pertinent disposal
lol
Dec 18, 2011
Dec 18, 2011 at 8:46 PM UTC
Oats, stay dry for fecunditys harvest, as Eostres' hares
bring pittu; Falling earthbound, in abundance.
Spring madness dawns;
Love, persists.
Once willowed, under Winter skies, **shed all
we've done before.**
Bringing warmth (sown a lifetime ago) to embrace
this thaw.
Watching our steps, across moss green floors; We dance
lingering in the sweetest meadows.Together,
under budding branches;
It's time...
Blossom, reflected upon dappled millpond;
Still.
- Dark glassed surface, gently rippling with undertone -
Can you hear the water paddles roar?
Will Springs' spirit guide you; With carnal lust abound,
trusting Her to save your oats from being;
Taken...turned out...
ground?
We,
with spare oats, heap
to powdered dust; Sifted, then refined...
Molded something beautiful, wholesome, yet devine!
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 9:40 AM UTC