"reefed" poems - Hello Poetry

And as in Orion the old king-astronomer, — says his Mistress Rigel, or Betelguese, — the Earth's four quarters showing four points of stars afar; so, seem they to terrestrial eyes, that broadly sweep the upper & lower spheres as seen by the sun, by influence divine, wheels through the Ecliptic; threading Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and Aquarius; so, by some mystic impulse am I moved, to this fleet's progress through the groups of swirling white-reefed Metazones

0

Aug 17, 2018

Aug 17, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC

johnny-noiπ

after Melville, a thriller

And as in Orion the old king-astronomer, — says his Mistress Rigel, or Betelguese, — the Earth's four quarters showing four points of stars afar; so, seem they to terrestrial eyes, that broadly sweep the upper & lower spheres as seen by the sun, by influence divine, wheels through the Ecliptic; threading Cancer, Leo, Pisces, and Aquarius; so, by some mystic impulse am I moved, to this fleet's progress through the groups of swirling white-reefed Metazones

14

busy verbalizing my merchandise a display of teeth reefed behind my smile because merchandise is what i am after and The Revels watch over me and laughter drains down through sewer grates i am watched over my potential client walks away but returns again with queries on this hot day a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters and these are the streets that radiate on this hot day an honest clash and not some some touchy bout and here we are the costly coil of pushing business together ; a lively thrive thrifty **** you"s and a dressing down circling the other and striking their buttons interlaced within is a genuine pressing toward each other goals this partnership swiftly made has an extreme edge and chaotic balance the both of us must master or abandon our productivity shall we be served by this union or sever fighting ? unfit it swerves and suffers a pity let's keep this one brief we manage business handshakes and scowl away with our wares each of us feeling equally scammed (we've made useful enemies at best) i break out laughing all the same-how and howl because i feel that feeling that this could go on forever and business has roots in all my moods i crouch at the curb the curb is abrasive i sit i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing the roof of my mouth the electric wires running hum into the buildings the storm drains at the edges of the roads where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades it is waning off now and i feel vague i stand and i scan for more players i spot a vivid orange one one that i may barter their aura of vigour traded for my sketchy wares

0

Mar 12, 2022

Mar 12, 2022 at 9:55 AM UTC

neth-jones

t e e t h

busy verbalizing my merchandise a display of teeth reefed behind my smile because merchandise is what i am after and The Revels watch over me and laughter drains down through sewer grates i am watched over my potential client walks away but returns again with queries on this hot day a smell like burnt hair raises from the gutters and these are the streets that radiate on this hot day an honest clash and not some some touchy bout and here we are the costly coil of pushing business together ; a lively thrive thrifty **** you"s and a dressing down circling the other and striking their buttons interlaced within is a genuine pressing toward each other goals this partnership swiftly made has an extreme edge and chaotic balance the both of us must master or abandon our productivity shall we be served by this union or sever fighting ? unfit it swerves and suffers a pity let's keep this one brief we manage business handshakes and scowl away with our wares each of us feeling equally scammed (we've made useful enemies at best) i break out laughing all the same-how and howl because i feel that feeling that this could go on forever and business has roots in all my moods i crouch at the curb the curb is abrasive i sit i look at the dry heat radiating off the tarmac the slight greasy lime taste of the air passing the roof of my mouth the electric wires running hum into the buildings the storm drains at the edges of the roads where laughter siphons down to the magma of Hades it is waning off now and i feel vague i stand and i scan for more players i spot a vivid orange one one that i may barter their aura of vigour traded for my sketchy wares

53

There were tales told of mighty storms that oft battered this coast. The howling gale that struck this night was more powerful than most, The lifeboat crews had been stood down, Who would venture out in this? They gratefully all headed home for a night of fireside bliss A girl stood on a towering cliff her heart was filled with dread Somewhere in that maelstrom was the one that she would wed The sun had shone when he’d left home before a steady breeze A day so full of promise, but nature gives no guarantees This normally astute sailor did not see the sky turn grey His mind was on the woman, tomorrow their wedding day. He was dragged back to the present by the sudden icy rain The boat steadied, then surged forward, a ****** at the helm again He quickly trimmed and set his sails to run before the gale The speeding boat fighting gamely under the minimum of sail Ten miles out man and boat still face the wrathful sea With storm jib filled, and main full reefed he raced towards his bride to be The man can see the lights of home, he’s just five miles from shore With a fearsome ‘Crack’ the hull was split. Man and boat could do no more Standing on the lonely cliff the girl sees his boat go under She screams her pain into the night as her heart is ripped asunder She takes a slow step forward towards the cliff edge high and sheer Facing a life without her lover the drop can cause no fear Her other foot moves forward, She is on the final ledge Another tearful shuffle forward has her on the very edge One more step. Into the void and she plummets like a stone The sea has claimed her loved one but he shall not lie alone As a wave approaches the stony cliff it draws a watery breath Before crashing, straining, weeping falling above the lovers joined in death

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Jan 31, 2011

Jan 31, 2011 at 12:49 AM UTC

rhandom-rhymer

The Sea Takes A Bride.

There were tales told of mighty storms that oft battered this coast. The howling gale that struck this night was more powerful than most, The lifeboat crews had been stood down, Who would venture out in this? They gratefully all headed home for a night of fireside bliss A girl stood on a towering cliff her heart was filled with dread Somewhere in that maelstrom was the one that she would wed The sun had shone when he’d left home before a steady breeze A day so full of promise, but nature gives no guarantees This normally astute sailor did not see the sky turn grey His mind was on the woman, tomorrow their wedding day. He was dragged back to the present by the sudden icy rain The boat steadied, then surged forward, a ****** at the helm again He quickly trimmed and set his sails to run before the gale The speeding boat fighting gamely under the minimum of sail Ten miles out man and boat still face the wrathful sea With storm jib filled, and main full reefed he raced towards his bride to be The man can see the lights of home, he’s just five miles from shore With a fearsome ‘Crack’ the hull was split. Man and boat could do no more Standing on the lonely cliff the girl sees his boat go under She screams her pain into the night as her heart is ripped asunder She takes a slow step forward towards the cliff edge high and sheer Facing a life without her lover the drop can cause no fear Her other foot moves forward, She is on the final ledge Another tearful shuffle forward has her on the very edge One more step. Into the void and she plummets like a stone The sea has claimed her loved one but he shall not lie alone As a wave approaches the stony cliff it draws a watery breath Before crashing, straining, weeping falling above the lovers joined in death

28

I was staring at the horizon on A clear and balmy day, The sky was blue and the sea a type Of aquamarine in the bay, There wasn’t a sign of storm or squall Till the sunset turned dull red, And then the sky, of a sudden turned From blue to the grey of lead. And you were stood there, Geraldine With your collar turned up high, You shivered once, then looked around Took note of the darkening sky, ‘Is that a barque or a barquentine I see tied up to the pier?’ And slowly, filtering into my view Was a ship that wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there all afternoon It hadn’t sailed into the bay, I’m sure that I would have noticed if It was fifteen miles away, But there it sat with its stays and sails Reefed in and sitting becalmed, But dark and ever so threatening I was right to feel alarmed. Then Geraldine ran along the pier, I was trying to call her back, When lightning lit the sky above With a sudden tumultuous crack, She turned just once and she called to me: ‘Don’t follow, it’s my fate! The ship’s the Admiral Benbow, I’m a hundred years too late.’ She ran, and her coat flew out behind Like an ancient type of cape, And on the deck of the barquentine Were men, with mouths agape, A single plank lay across the pier And up to the wooden bow, Which Geraldine clambered up to board While I stood, and wondered how? No sooner was she aboard, than then The men gave up a cheer, And she I saw in the arms of one, A brigand privateer, She waved just once, then she went below To my ever present pain, The love of my life, my Geraldine, I never saw again. The wind blew up and the rain came down And the barque then raised its sails, Was cast adrift in a heaving sea In that coastal port of Wales, And then I swear, the Captain came To the bow, and then he leered, And by the time that I turned around That barque had disappeared. David Lewis Paget

0

Nov 4, 2016

Nov 4, 2016 at 5:33 AM UTC

david-lewis-paget

The Barquentine

I was staring at the horizon on A clear and balmy day, The sky was blue and the sea a type Of aquamarine in the bay, There wasn’t a sign of storm or squall Till the sunset turned dull red, And then the sky, of a sudden turned From blue to the grey of lead. And you were stood there, Geraldine With your collar turned up high, You shivered once, then looked around Took note of the darkening sky, ‘Is that a barque or a barquentine I see tied up to the pier?’ And slowly, filtering into my view Was a ship that wasn’t there. It hadn’t been there all afternoon It hadn’t sailed into the bay, I’m sure that I would have noticed if It was fifteen miles away, But there it sat with its stays and sails Reefed in and sitting becalmed, But dark and ever so threatening I was right to feel alarmed. Then Geraldine ran along the pier, I was trying to call her back, When lightning lit the sky above With a sudden tumultuous crack, She turned just once and she called to me: ‘Don’t follow, it’s my fate! The ship’s the Admiral Benbow, I’m a hundred years too late.’ She ran, and her coat flew out behind Like an ancient type of cape, And on the deck of the barquentine Were men, with mouths agape, A single plank lay across the pier And up to the wooden bow, Which Geraldine clambered up to board While I stood, and wondered how? No sooner was she aboard, than then The men gave up a cheer, And she I saw in the arms of one, A brigand privateer, She waved just once, then she went below To my ever present pain, The love of my life, my Geraldine, I never saw again. The wind blew up and the rain came down And the barque then raised its sails, Was cast adrift in a heaving sea In that coastal port of Wales, And then I swear, the Captain came To the bow, and then he leered, And by the time that I turned around That barque had disappeared. David Lewis Paget

57

A ghost ship in reefed water in sleeping, two otters where you tell me of your white, russian father and how you'd rather sail tattered on friendly water

0

Mar 26, 2013

Mar 26, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC

merrick-mctaggard

reefed water

A ghost ship in reefed water in sleeping, two otters where you tell me of your white, russian father and how you'd rather sail tattered on friendly water

6

Down the deer path, thick with **** to every hard to find creek bank in the world, there's a busted dinghy, a forgotten sloop dream, with a mudstuck sprung transom, a sky beckoning bow, tied to a cattail or some other tenuous stem. Down the deer path, thick with **** the willows, reefed in a gale, cringe in the rising crest, and a busted dinghy lifts on a swell and bellows against the cleat to slide clean to the sea, to a young boy's landlocked dream of spray, hard weathers and anywhere but here night-watches. All the colors of elsewhere, the splendid regatta of the never-seen, the gleaming spice and bent strange tongues of the could have been - mold, dip and sigh, lift and strain, again and again, upon a cleat, upon a rope, upon a cattail or some other tenuous stem.

0

Aug 14, 2019

Aug 14, 2019 at 5:48 PM UTC

uDevonBrock

Forgotten Sloop Dreams

Down the deer path, thick with **** to every hard to find creek bank in the world, there's a busted dinghy, a forgotten sloop dream, with a mudstuck sprung transom, a sky beckoning bow, tied to a cattail or some other tenuous stem. Down the deer path, thick with **** the willows, reefed in a gale, cringe in the rising crest, and a busted dinghy lifts on a swell and bellows against the cleat to slide clean to the sea, to a young boy's landlocked dream of spray, hard weathers and anywhere but here night-watches. All the colors of elsewhere, the splendid regatta of the never-seen, the gleaming spice and bent strange tongues of the could have been - mold, dip and sigh, lift and strain, again and again, upon a cleat, upon a rope, upon a cattail or some other tenuous stem.

31