"rower" poems
It lives in Him breathes in his vitals,
Personifies him and nets out of his veins lethargy,
It dampens what his heart has in offer,
It lays in him waste,
a bewitched rower to this boat,
Who has yet to learn to stay afloat,
His obfuscations lead him sober,
His blind eye dictates his horror,
A pearl beyond imagination he has yet to attain,
To proclaim his name with no distain.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 11:14 PM UTC
453
Love—thou art high—
I cannot climb thee—
But, were it Two—
Who know but we—
Taking turns—at the Chimborazo—
Ducal—at last—stand up by thee—
Love—thou are deep—
I cannot cross thee—
But, were there Two
Instead of One—
Rower, and Yacht—some sovereign Summer—
Who knows—but we’d reach the Sun?
Love—thou are Veiled—
A few—behold thee—
Smile—and alter—and prattle—and die—
Bliss—were an Oddity—without thee—
Nicknamed by God—
Eternity—
3.7k
Solo Atlantic rower
Oarsome!
Jlo rows Atlantic
Arsome!
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 4:05 PM UTC
Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
"Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.
Daybreak and a candle-end.
"Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man's blood grows cold? '
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
Then Said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
"Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
"Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
***** talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.
Daybreak and a candle-end.
"A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.
Dayhreak and a candle-end.
"All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman ***** upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.
Daybreak and a candlc-cnd.
"That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman's breast.'
Daybreak and a candlc-end.
2.2k
you row, row, your wooden boat,
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?
How much is time, what is space and distance
as the ship behind you is never reached
for it forever recedes, as you row, row
and perennially speed the prow
towards
Towards what?
Towards that
Which forever recedes, as you row, row
You row, row, the wooden boat
And all time and effort, all will and motion
is but oil and canvas
A picture, an impression, an illusion
A verisimilitude
of what?
Capturing what?
To embrace what?
That which eludes
Past time, past space, past mind and body
you row, row, your wooden boat
rough, sturdy, hardy, made for wear and strain
you yourself
gathered, determined, as tough as nails
as uncouth as your boat
how long have you rowed?
Nov 23, 2012
Nov 23, 2012 at 5:24 AM UTC
These people
Mucho beautiful.
You can see them smile
Miles and miles
Riding in a van awhile
Brothers, sisters, mothers,
Daughters, fathers, sons
Hammering until stability comes.
Family and friends under brimmed hats
Gazing through glass at a land void of grass
But full of passion
Leaving behind permanent tracks
They reflected on how they had made lives brighter,
Seen children beg for water,
Woke up yearning to play soccer-
If they won against the locals it'd be a wonder.
A military women, an Illinois baby,
A president, an el Pancho puppet
Pharmacy pros, a summer camp enthusiast, and an old teacher-
He's the coolest.
Some want to be preachers, psychologist, and to just live past round one.
To run around rainbow tires daring to risk
A dusty trip, a graceful fall.
Keep calm.
It's tacos for dessert, van rides, and mafia till the end.
Spoons for life and jokes all day.
The wind picked up but hope remains.
Braids, charades, dancing, picture frames.
Hole in the sand.
Bouncing in the back of the van.
Almost, but no luck at riding in the back of a pick up truck.
Soaring free down streets.
Towns, the same images on repeat.
A woven rose, question marks leading to unknowns, a circle of bonds forever.
Will we be there soon?
A carnival under the midnight moon.
Coconuts by homes. Respect for third tier bunk beds.
Rushing to the dorm room, downstairs for food.
Todo esta bien y tu?
Braid hair all the time please!
Don't let the paint bleed.
Let's go ride the ATV
Reflect on who we want to be
From here on till eternity
A rower, a reader, and eighth grade dreamer.
If the nail bends, stop to see
It could be saved!
Our Baja family
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
my dream house
you see my dream house is just by lake burley griffin
and as you walk in there is a coke machine at the top of
a big escalator, and at the bottom of that escalator there
are two doors, 1 door is the offices where people work and
on the other side there is my front door and i know it sounds like every
young persons fantasy, but as you enter, it was like, well the first thing you
see is the hat rack in front of the first door to the gymnasium which had a treadmill and a rower and a bike
and as you walk further you enter the lounge room where there is
a nice comfy corner lounge and a LED TV and a big stereo where you can
listen to your favourite music and as you walk further, there is an internet station
where the computer is an apple with iPads and iPhones and the internet server was
iinet wireless broadband, and as you walk further on, you see the kitchen where they had a built in
dishwasher and stove and fridge, and it had all the latest kitchen gadgets that money can buy, yeah
that sounds so cool and it has built in hot and cold water jets as well as normal tap water, and as you
walk further you see the bathroom with a shower sink and toilet with a clean air contraption, to get rid of
oopsy smells, and the bedroom was right near the other side window looking over the wonderful startrack oval
but i can’t see in because of the grandstands around it, and there was a walk in wardrobe which rarely got
messy, and i had round the clock help with cleaning and cooking, yeah this is absolute paradise, but it will
always remain just a dream house
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
I’m flying in the light
I swallow my pain and fear,
As I hear angels and devils fight
I can shed only a single tear.
Entrancing ghosts circle the air,
The feeling of terror is waning,
The virginal silence starts to tear,
The one tear I shed, is staining.
Words in the air, the quiet is going.
Colorful vapors hover over the path.
Sticky life, hangs on to the crying spirits.
Once more, I feel Gods wrath,
And hear his cherubs haunting lyrics.
Oh Jesus! God’s queen is sweet.
Strangely, it’s peaceful behind the light.
I must now bow down and kiss her feet.
I can only help myself in heavens plight.
Red bugs ooze from crystalline water.
I stomp on them with my shoes.
She gazes, knowing no one can stop her.
For me, this is surely not good news.
An angel’s child I am to bear.
Awaken! The birthing is hard.
This one child I cannot love, I swear.
From now on, I cannot fault my guard.
Deaths life is unafraid,
But I know that his love for me is hesitant.
This life of death I have made,
But my lover’s fury is notoriously unpleasant.
My chance to flee across the river Styx,
It finally arrives, just on time.
A bribe to the rower is my quick fix.
I tell my beautiful evil child everything is fine.
But then I can throw her off the boat,
And tell her that her next life will be better.
I know it’s over when her curls cease to float.
My last words to her, were that of my last only love,
To tell her that if God had a better plan,
He had better start working hard up above.
I have relinquished his holey wingspan.
But now with who can I seek my final shelter.
For a price of passion I can take a final board.
This mans love is enough to make life swelter.
But I know I can end it all again, with this rope and cord.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
I’m flying in the light
I swallow my pain and fear,
As I hear angels and devils fight
I can shed only a single tear.
Entrancing ghosts circle the air,
The feeling of terror is waning,
The virginal silence starts to tear,
The one tear I shed, is staining.
Words in the air, the quiet is going.
Colorful vapors hover over the path.
Sticky life, hangs on to the crying spirits.
Once more, I feel Gods wrath,
And hear his cherubs haunting lyrics.
Oh Jesus! God’s queen is sweet.
Strangely, it’s peaceful behind the light.
I must now bow down and kiss her feet.
I can only help myself in heavens plight.
Red bugs ooze from crystalline water.
I stomp on them with my shoes.
She gazes, knowing no one can stop her.
For me, this is surely not good news.
An angel’s child I am to bear.
Awaken! The birthing is hard.
This one child I cannot love, I swear.
From now on, I cannot fault my guard.
Deaths life is unafraid,
But I know that his love for me is hesitant.
This life of death I have made,
But my lover’s fury is notoriously unpleasant.
My chance to flee across the river Styx,
It finally arrives, just on time.
A bribe to the rower is my quick fix.
I tell my beautiful evil child everything is fine.
But then I can throw her off the boat,
And tell her that her next life will be better.
I know it’s over when her curls cease to float.
My last words to her, were that of my last only love,
To tell her that if God had a better plan,
He had better start working hard up above.
I have relinquished his holey wingspan.
But now with who can I seek my final shelter.
For a price of passion I can take a final board.
This mans love is enough to make life swelter.
But I know I can end it all again, with this rope and cord.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:40 PM UTC
I first saw her twisted braids
flying in the air behind her,
she was spectacular,
a steady determination
flared from her eyes.
The blue water churned
from her steady strokes
as she pushed straight away
into the strong headwind,
a formidable force
to be reckoned with.
The power in her arms
were traced onto her muscular form
and she was gone in a flash,
like tropical-lightning.
I stared in awe,
had witnessed
a pretty lady and her shell
become one with the water,
as she disappeared
into the mist
so very alive.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
Its a hard life
Living on the outside
Giving to the inside
Looking for some kind of relief
Standing on the corner
With the ragtime mourner
Playing taps on the grave of a thief
The usher says to hush
Or I'll ask you to leave
Ragtime man says
That's hard to believe
I've come to play my music
And that's what I'll do
We all got our own way to grieve
Its the right time
To open up the doors
And even up old scores
And make sure you leave it all straight
Standing at the river
With the halftime giver
Wondering if I waited too late
The oarman says the poor man
Gets to take the first ride
Halftime man gets right on inside
I came here with nothing
And that's what I've got
I AINT GOT NOTHIN TO HIDE
Its a long wait
Waitin on the beach
Somethin just out of reach
Somethin that I've had on my mind
Riding on over
With the same oar rower
Wondering what it is that I'll find
Rower says to show him
Where he should go
You're my guide
Because only you know
What it is that's made ...
Made just for you
JUST FOR YOU !
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC
I am the dancing queen of all the eyesores
who sprang to the stars from one of the seesaws
in the moody playground where heaviest rain pours-
there’s no compensation for what the gutter endures.
When I fell back to Earth, I landed on seashores
between the horizon and an endlessness of moors.
I saw a single seagull take to sky and how it soars
and wonder about other things one usually ignores
until I seek out scuttling ***** carrying their claws
to protect them, I imagine, from the way the sea roars.
I saw a small wooden boat missing both of its oars-
that must hinder the rower wherever he explores.
After some time watching the bigger outdoors
I begin to feel sad about ceilings and doors.
But thunder comes in echoes of rumbling applause
and I don’t feel a part of it. It reminds me of wars.
The war is what happens while we do our chores,
or sit close to a mirror to examine our pores,
or pass away a rainy day completing jigsaws.
We are mutually something that the war ignores.
I skipped some stones and didn’t keep scores.
I tangled with questions of consequence and cause,
pondered my way back from fossils and dinosaurs
to a creaking house with long narrow corridors.
I wake up when the **** crows and the crow caws.
The Cheshire Cat smiles and licks invisible paws,
'We're all mad here. You think that dream is yours?'
Dec 20, 2015
Dec 20, 2015 at 9:44 PM UTC
I felt the hair on your cheek like brail standing and screaming, as your breath whispered into my ear.
Down the canal like a Venetian rower it flowed until it rested rhythmically on the pulse of my heart.
Passion fills the moments between the repositioning of our pupils, and in staring
I paint a moon in the dark spot of your eyes.
That moon, poised against the friction of blinks, glows brightly causing vibrations like wind blown grass through face.
Your neck extends and your head shift-tilts, a perpetually still teetotum. My lips grip upon an extension, and we are pulled away.
Pulled, and pushed we collide and the atoms of our souls explode, melding and twisting and engulfing the void separating painted moons and brail.
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
'Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man's blood grows cold? '
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
Then said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
'Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
***** talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman ***** upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman's breast.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
W B Yeats
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 3:26 AM UTC
'Because I am mad about women
I am mad about the hills,'
Said that wild old wicked man
Who travels where God wills.
'Not to die on the straw at home.
Those hands to close these eyes,
That is all I ask, my dear,
From the old man in the skies.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Kind are all your words, my dear,
Do not the rest withhold.
Who can know the year, my dear,
when an old man's blood grows cold? '
I have what no young man can have
Because he loves too much.
Words I have that can pierce the heart,
But what can he do but touch?'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
Then said she to that wild old man,
His stout stick under his hand,
'Love to give or to withhold
Is not at my command.
I gave it all to an older man:
That old man in the skies.
Hands that are busy with His beads
Can never close those eyes.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'Go your ways, O go your ways,
I choose another mark,
Girls down on the seashore
Who understand the dark;
***** talk for the fishermen;
A dance for the fisher-lads;
When dark hangs upon the water
They turn down their beds.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'A young man in the dark am I,
But a wild old man in the light,
That can make a cat laugh, or
Can touch by mother wit
Things hid in their marrow-bones
From time long passed away,
Hid from all those warty lads
That by their bodies lay.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'All men live in suffering,
I know as few can know,
Whether they take the upper road
Or stay content on the low,
Rower bent in his row-boat
Or weaver bent at his loom,
Horseman ***** upon horseback
Or child hid in the womb.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
'That some stream of lightning
From the old man in the skies
Can burn out that suffering
No right-taught man denies.
But a coarse old man am I,
I choose the second-best,
I forget it all awhile
Upon a woman's breast.'
Daybreak and a candle-end.
W B Yeats
Sep 9, 2019
Sep 9, 2019 at 3:27 AM UTC
and as the boat drifted
down that queer little
stream of tears
the wood rotted
fell apart
the young rower had to get out
at the nearing shore
pulling the measly
excuse of a boat
with them
the rower approached a man
where is the nearest carpenter
my boat can take me no
further
the man with his silver whiskers
glanced at the small boat
before nodding to the owner
i’ll fix it if you tell me
you story
and so the rower did
telling of the waterfalls
storms and near collisions
with others on the waters
over the passing years
well no wonder your boat
can no longer take it
if civilisation doesn’t want
a dingy in its fishing harbour
and as the rower took a glance
they saw their small boat
looked the best in years
and what is its name
the decaying man waited
for what wonders would fall
from the rower’s lips
Happiness
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
The strong & ghastly storm
confusing the world to be fine same
Boat of woods with an orifice
gravitating towards furious way
The water, water in & out
Drowning is something sure
Before death don't intend to die
Oars in the hand of rower
the inexperienced one, unable
Still, slowly, stir the wooden paper's boat
Worrier doing the unintended slit on skin
Warrior brawling the slitted skin not to stop
Alteration of worrier to warrior
Something the hardest strive
Mind & heart losted hope
Soul the hapless one still struggling
But, Until when??
The span is gathered in few days
Till the last beat witnessing the riot
Between the storms of live created by life
pleasant gift of words strike the heart
Ready to give the tremendous soul
Yet finding self in mist of deface the pious grace and rifting the storms with
withdrawal of soul Ohh!! the innocent one
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 11:50 PM UTC
Back and forth
Beads of sweat
Back and forth
Feeling wet
Back and forth
What to wear
Back and forth
Why do I care
Back and forth
Dark clouds above
Back and forth
Exploring love
Back and forth
Drinks at the bar
Back and forth
Puff that cigar
Back and forth
Doctor, scientist or MP
Back and forth
Which one can I be
Back and forth
Fathers design
Back and forth
Wallow in wine
Back and forth
Oppression is slower
Back and forth
I’m just a rower
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 3:47 PM UTC