"pontoon" poems
505
I would not paint—a picture—
I’d rather be the One
Its bright impossibility
To dwell—delicious—on—
And wonder how the fingers feel
Whose rare—celestial—stir—
Evokes so sweet a Torment—
Such sumptuous—Despair—
I would not talk, like Cornets—
I’d rather be the One
Raised softly to the Ceilings—
And out, and easy on—
Through Villages of Ether—
Myself endued Balloon
By but a lip of Metal—
The pier to my Pontoon—
Nor would I be a Poet—
It’s finer—own the Ear—
Enamored—impotent—content—
The License to revere,
A privilege so awful
What would the Dower be,
Had I the Art to stun myself
With Bolts of Melody!
5.6k
In a far off land,
with a prince who kissed my hand,
he gave me roses with black & white petals
and showed me how to steal priceless metals
he made me walk on a tightrope on the moon
and took me for a ride in his spaceship pontoon
and while I've no truth to what I've said,
I think I have more adventures while I'm in bed
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 6:23 PM UTC
they danced in a dream
of bending shadows
face down
begging ***
all hungry back door paradise
ankles strapped on a foot worn floor
paint faced in whorey nights
with pin needle eyes
beded
blood crimson neon's
cut curtains
like kissing claws
so their bodies wouldn't forget
dark pleasures lightening
and biting tantra tantrums
they swallowed mad ***** blossoms of hell candy
breathing the others inhalations
foot sniffing ballet arch
in fastened Japanese melting red slippers
gazing upwards rectums prayer
solar eyed insurrection
finger by finger
clutching wrists like the grave
for bloods salty cove
an injured landscape
a dire pink desert
like bogs hold bones
a rave for a slave
covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets
soft on the feet
x rated amputee costume
made of blood and spit
look mommy no arms
a bellied tattoo
of hennaed homunculi
burning Candomblé Jejé, skull
black eyed beauty hissing
while accordion throated
rip tie tighten
another notch please
a dizzy *******
down silver fluted gullet
in a steamed up bath house
party of blotted sockets
*** kitten
kissed dead girls thighs
tremulous and stretched
a shimmering serum
like wide tubular channels
as pontoon edges slit
through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl
who thrills
her head a veiled Jehovah
saliva wagging tongue ****
a stuttering ****** dance
a hula hot momma in rubble
slapping hot lipped kisses
over starved darkness
along telegraphs avenue
melting eyes like butter
a globed pudding spill
******* drool drops of gold
and black river gladiators
slaughter lies
with every long stroke
between cascading squeals
paraphilias mausoleum
like tumbling eels
a scapegoat pulp fiction
chiseled in cement
******* rips
drip drip drip
babbling **** bubbles
**** spasms ooze like a hot glue gun
fire spats soil cherry clover
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 3:39 PM UTC
Brass plays a sad tune
Over the motors of the pontoon.
I was lost; now I'm found
Rescued from
The dog pound
Mama! Mama! Go get a doctor!
Send forty days of rain
And a kettle of copper.
Ride that train! Hurry uptown!
That ol' blue norther's pourin'
At the dog pound
Well, it's hard to be humble
In this land by the sea
But it's so easy here to stumble,
Ain't it hard livin' free?
Hear that train? How sweet the sound...
That Burlington's a-blowin'
At the dog pound
Rally! Rally! Creepin' up the alley!
Rope that heifer! No slack on the dally!
Make her now become a cow
And milk the puppies
At the dog pound
And with the storm well on its way,
Back and forth the breakers sway;
Fools rush in, makin' their rounds,
But the muzzle has 'em puzzled
At the dog pound
Aug 31, 2017
Aug 31, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
Calling the two blocks
of brick shantys
a “neighborhood”
is like calling Chris Columbus
an entrepreneur.
Columbus had three wooden pontoon boats
& a palace in the new world.
My students have Columbus’ outhouses.
I don’t even enjoy walking through
there anymore. It’s not a stroll in the park.
There’s only so much imperialistic **** you
can step in and wipe away
before you
start to track it in your
house.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
as eve fell a pair of swans
flew across the serene lake
to settle near a pontoon
till dawn came again
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
Death is inevitable
Choosing when is not
Launching from the shore
Place the oar deep into our regrets
Haul away from lifes spinning current
Death is something to earn
Justify your parents joy each day
Explore those eddies in your travelling feet
Take the hand of your rudder
Placing certainty in the direction of travel
Death is not an end but a staging post of a earthly pontoon
Experience lifes engulfing tributaries first
Find your anchorage for each night and day
Caulk the small cracks that appear daily before you explore a watery bed
Leave no small seepage pass unaccounted
No day deserves to exist without your helping hand
Bravery is making this world what it is with your presence
Apr 23, 2023
Apr 23, 2023 at 8:22 AM UTC
#*Love is abstract, so it attracts.
One feeling, universal to all living beings
Plants, loved and nurtured, swing and sway to the music played
Holding roots, withstanding storms
Going lush green when truly loved
Bearing nuts and berries or flowers in bloom
What a sight to behold
Animals, you feed them, pets or non pets
They follow you everywhere
Wanting to be loved and giving back even more
Love that is
Humans, blessed of all the beings,
We can express ourselves through thoughts and words
Love we receive from and reciprocate to
Parents siblings spouse children friends and all fellow beings
It's true that some barren fields do not yield
Should it stop one from looking beyond
There are greener pastures waiting to be found
God's ways and love is profound
If I could, I would be a floating pontoon to the many lost souls
Bridging their path and holding them together
Till eternity
Coz love in abundance I have found*#
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 6:47 AM UTC
there are turtles
imitating floating logs
and
shiny fish fluttering
just underneath
the water
there is a family of ducks
sunning on the shore
and
an old pontoon caked
with dirt and
mud
there are trees of many kinds
and
light glimmers
off its wind-blown surface
there are beads of sweet
on my face
and
my heart is
pounding
in a few minutes
I will see one of my friends
and
wave to her and her
dog
there is not much here,
in reality,
but
a whole world
seems to bloom in the
afternoon sun
May 3, 2012
May 3, 2012 at 7:53 PM UTC
O what
an exhilarating
celebration
for something that meant to
happen but never did
O what
a stimulation
to the mind with blowing
solar wind
Who says that dream has to be
solid like gold with wings
Mercury, Mercury
that planet nearest to the Sun
volatile and sensitive
charged with heat
my messenger to the God
burned
Now my world is cold
full of silent sound
So gone with my opulent
submarine boat
But someone in California
is whooping it up
and living it large
His sun will always be
favorable
with those balmy breezes
Let me lament then
to my sunken submarine
My titanic pontoon
My Mercury's cavernous
moaning echoes
My love
for only in grievance
and sorrow, we suddenly
grow old and
bold
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 11:09 AM UTC
We lived in an old home
with a
big fire place
Perfect for our children
who could run and play
in its big open space
Their laughter wonderful
as they rode though the bush
They'd climbed tress
build cubbies
go camping
do whatever they wished
You could even drop a line
in the dam
and try to catch a fish
Bush out the back
Orchard out the front
The kids would canoe
Dive off the pontoon
Even go on a big frog hunt
Life in the hills was perfect
an awsome place
for our children to play
Days swimming
and snockling
Wanting their friends
to come and stay
It's a place they hold dear
to their hearts
It was really sad to leave
and make a new start
But they have wonderful memories
of the old house in the bush
I'm so glad
our children grew up there
and could do
whatever they wished
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 11:42 AM UTC
*Love is abstract ,so it attracts.
One feeling , universal to all living beings.
Plants ,loved and nurtured ,swing and sway to the music played .
Holding roots, withstanding storms ,Going lush green when truly loved .
Bearing nuts and berries or flowers in bloom .
What a sight to behold .
Animals , you feed them ,pets or non pets ,they follow you everywhere ,
Wanting to have more and giving back even more ,Love that is .
Humans , blessed of all the beings,
We can express ourselves through thoughts and words .
Love we receive from and reciprocate to
parents siblings spouse children friends and all fellow beings .
It's true that some barren fields do not yield
Should it stop one from looking beyond,
There are greener pastures waiting to be found.
God's ways and love is profound.
If I could , I would be a floating pontoon to the many lost souls ,
Bridging their path and holding them together,
Till eternity !!
Coz love in abundance I have found.*
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 12:02 AM UTC
The halls are dark and dismal
the mood is silent and quiet
the nurses, they move room to room
the patients are dire, uninspired
Head down to avoid eye contact
feeling the fugue of the time
staying away, uselessness pray
upon the eyes, placed the dimes
A pass over the Styx
it's never easy
or quick
Riding Charon's pontoon
a soul removed
maybe
too soon
At heaven's gates
or the fire
Leaving behind
devoid of the signs
of a life
No trace of the pain
and the
strife
Like blood on the edge
of a knife
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 10:50 PM UTC
Eyes glowing
fast flowing
mind blowing
body ageing
brain slowing
tougher thinking
interlinking
water drinking
meat eating
time beating
me down.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
I saw the dealing of the cards,the ace of clubs,the diamonds,spades
but I have made my pact in hearts
the one that breaks and heals and seals upon another deal,
and you
took me, through a left hand turn
shared with me
a love that burned my tongue and fingers,how the taste of you still lingers on the deck,on the table and on the floor where we dealt more than cards upon our suits of nakedness.
Then later clothed lest we upset the kings and queens we laughed,as if they'd never seen before,two lovers on the table,floor
and I adored you more and more than any game I'd ever played,
you,
my Queen,
and I,
your knave.
If I could save this hand I hold
If only I had told you how I felt
If only
I had knelt just one more time to taste the wine that flowed from precious lips.
I could carry on,
but the point is that you're gone
so there is no point
I no longer care
for cards,
I play
solitaire
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
**** just got real
I'm about to cop another feel
Of the undeniable truth
Take me to the fountain of youth
Settle me in the light
Obliterate any other view in sight
An emotional pontoon
Strikes a balloon
Like the ***** of a needle
It's time to worship the scarab beetle
Your world bursts
Dignity quenching of thirst
The illusions released
Mind games deceased
The fantasy shatters
As if nothing else matters
The moment it hits you
There's nothing left to do
It's a sigh of relief
Eyes induced like an ancient chief
The truth shall set you free
What a wonderful world it would be
If every waking moment
Hikes its way to this descent
Eyes wide open
The dark side must repent
Give me one good reason
Leave me in this pleasant season
Let the tide stay high
Washing away negativity dry
It's a deep realization
Soothing sensation
It was all part of my dream
Letting out some steam
My thoughts just never stop
Meanwhile, the kite string should eventually pop.
It's nearing that time
Music's calling for a new chime
Next freight train is a coming
I'm on the borderline running
Who's all aboard?
I'm about ready to strike another chord.
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
Scarred by days so painful
A history almost made folly
By actions around you
Actions that bruised
Bruised the blanc skin
That protected you just enough
You watched the cherry blossom fall
From the cracks in your cage
A cage lit only by glimmers of light
Falling through the veins that lined the ceiling
Water veins from days gone by
Tis those same
Almost forgotten days
That have burned their mark
In places no-one ever thought to look
And now in the moonlight
You sit on the pontoon
Conjuring courage
Conjuring magic to rid you of your scars...
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 6:39 AM UTC
After two long days
of water skiers
and screaming kids on floaty things
skipping across the surface at high speed
behind motor boats
both big and small
loud and not so
of plump sun reddened revelers
sprawled on pontoon boats
playing loud music
drinking
48 hours of fishing lines
and hooks hanging at various depths
in anticipation of fish that may never come
of jetskis
that streak across the water
like water skeeters on *******
After all of that
a five day weekend
to rest in the sun
to let things settle
A long weekend for the lake.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 9:09 AM UTC
She looks me up and down and says,
'it looks like you've seen better days'
but takes me as I am.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
Cackling beneath the bridge
The fearsome beast, it roars.
Overhead swirling rain pours.
He dwells within the whirling swell.
Little fish flit,
They struggle against the tide .
Battling to stay alive.
It seems to be listening for tottering tootsies,
They fight to stay upright.
Fighting the blast.
Face punching.
The fearsome storm.
Legend supposes a fearsome troll hides neath the slippery pontoon.
I made it over much too soon.
Luckily I missed encountering said troll.
Must not like the weather either.
Hides in his hole.
(C) LIVVI
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 4:23 PM UTC
today is a parallel to evolutionary swoon
And we can blame biology for acting a buffoon
so if you're not a fan of Jesus, this is maybe your kind of tune
oh it's the day of egg hunting, we wild spermatazoon
Yes, it's Easter and on Western shores the stars tell a fortune
of the irony that of all days it is this for red moon
Is it still considered trolling if the tides 'neath our pontoon
Reflect from sunrise until dusk turn me into a goon
Oh it's the day of egg hunting, we wild spermatazoon
So we here relay with grunting, like air let out a balloon
To find the womb, to find the egg, to nestle us cocoon
Oh it's the day of egg hunting, we wild spermatazoon
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 8:40 AM UTC
John Smallshaw @jsirony
Three jacks black
and one red queen,
in the pack
I
have seen
my life laid out
in
playing cards.
#PontoonPoetry
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 6:16 AM UTC
Up before the sun filling a chest with ice. Drinks and sandwiches all neatly packed. Out to the lake, wait I forget my bait, turn around and find an open store. Back to the lake and put the boat in the water, head out onto the elusive monster fish. Settling into a quiet cove and begin to drown a worm, only to have the sun rise and blind you. Turn your boat around and reset to fish again. Then a power boat roars by from the lake party of the night before. The birds squawk as they are driven from their morning repose the waves rock your bass boat and churn up the water. You bite your tongue as not to curse, as you wait for the fish to decide to bite. Hours pass and still nothing, perhaps you are in the wrong place. You pull up anchor and move down the way only to find a pontoon boat in your usual spot. Two gorgeous women are laying out in the morning rays, then an old hairy fat man lumbers around the deck. On you go to another quiet cove and settle in again. Then you realize that the fishing time has passed and the sun is high and hot. So you set up an umbrella and settle down to eat and take a small nap. Time passes and the sun moves and you awake to a sun burn. So you amble around and pull your gear together as you begin decide where to throw out a line. As the sun moves toward the west, you finally get a bite as you set the hook and real your first fish in. Behind you the sound of another boat and you turn to begin to curse. You see the fish and game warden smiling as he takes his ruler out, he grins that its too small and you have to throw it back. After a thorough inspection and a look at your license, he bids you a good day. Meanwhile another hour has passed and you are tired but resolve to fish anyway. So as twilight falls, you have three or four good sized catches as the mosquitos begin to swarm. So you decide to call it a day as you head back in, but your motor dies because your out of gas. So with your wooden paddle in hand you head back towards your boat slip that seems miles away and you begin to contemplate the lies you will tell about how your day went and the one that got away.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 12:11 PM UTC
seven lamps and the windows glaze
laffing on the suds the ragging wage
derler dere the pontoon, the styles of
bordering its the sky
land hawks swearing in
the dream of true virtue
lean of the feminine
then laying beside you
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 1:54 AM UTC
the softness of her tone
woos like a June moon
tuned-in I swoon on the
damp sand dune
shrooming, foolishly, my ungroomed
face shown true
proving our love
would ne’er move to blue
a golden pontoon flew through
rolling hills covered with dew
green shoots and fruiting foliage
wild thistle and overgrown
Scotch Broom
crooning to you, awe struck by the
view I lose my pants, shirt,
and shoes
soon, while a few butterflies
settle on a nearby pear-blossom
of blue
our eyes and smiles meet
as we consider what next
to do
all the while I think,
“I’ll be happy as long as I am with you.”
Sep 2, 2015
Sep 2, 2015 at 5:52 PM UTC