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"sailboat" poems
Sully suffers from a stutter, simple syllables will clutter, stalling speeches up on beaches, like a sunken sailboat rudder. Sully strains to say his phrases, sickened by the sounds he raises, strings of thoughts come out in knots, he solves his sentences like mazes. At night, he writes his thoughts instead and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
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Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Sully
(thanx all for the great suggestions) <!> women who wink drive men to drink together, glasses clink tattoos follow in ink and that ain’t the only thing ~ the tiller tied & forgot, the slip knot jinxed the sailboat nearly sinks ~ he cries aloud “you minx!” I’m all done in, you’ve got me sminked,^ you winking whilst me sailing on the oceans brink ~ she smirked and laughed that slinky mink, “clearly you are confused - I’m a lynx, count to cinq, don’t overthink, join me overboard into the **** I’ll finish you off in the the kitchen sink where drowning possibilities are next to nothink promise, we’ll be quite in sync”
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Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 11:50 AM UTC
Please Help! This Poem Needs a Title!
*Blue is the boulder overlooking the bay Loosely pocked by weather-worn stains Unwavering guardian of all that lay Enigmatic yet silently screaming its pains Blue is the reflection dancing playfully Laid generously by the twilight moon Upon the vast canvas of the darkened sea Elated ripples readily accepting such a boon Blue is the halo encircling the moon Lavish circlet gifted by the sun Unnoticed by eyes that slumbered too soon Evading the sands of time that run Blue is the silhouette of a lone sailboat Lurching and bobbing by will of the waves Unknowingly catching the zephyrs that float Eluding the fingers from watery graves Blue is the man; perched upon the boulder Lapping up the stars mirrored upon the sea Usurped heart of his had never sung drearier Ensnared by woeful wonderment...*                                            that man is me...
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
Spectrum Blue
I recall from some time ago a pink plastic tea set a white plastic rocking chair and a yellow plastic pony with blue plastic hair,      which was impossible to untangle except for with the green plastic brush that belonged to my blonde barbie doll out of her plastic vanity cabinet beneath her plastic vanity mirror,      which she checked her makeup in before meeting her plastic boyfriend in his plastic van to go to a plastic diner that served plastic pizza,      which was really just a sticker on a tiny plastic plate that would get lost in the bottom of my plastic toybox,      which had a plastic lid that was also my sailboat that brought me to a plastic castle with a plastic princess who had the prettiest plastic eyes and the most elaborate plastic dress and the shiniest plastic crown,      which was the envy of all the plastic women in the entire plastic kingdom,      which was really just a plastic castle surrounded by an enchanted plastic forest filled with furry plastic creatures all atop a clear plastic box,      which held the plastic dishes and plastic glasses and plastic food in case a feast should be thrown for an unexpected plastic guest from a plastic kingdom in the far east,      which was really just a plastic plate placed on the plastic-coated windowsill,      from which I would peer into the blue sky through broken plastic binoculars while standing on a yellow and green plastic step stool,      which when turned upside down became not simply a make-shift plastic sailboat, but a glorious, luxury plastic cruise liner for my pretty plastic dolls      and I would board my toybox lid      and we would sail into a perfect plastic horizon      which was really just a white plastic baby gate that kept me from tumbling into the world downstairs where things are wooden and glass and cloth but not plastic for plastic is synthetic and plastic is superficial and plastic looks bad against gilded wallpaper but plastic is cheaper and plastic is safer and plastic is durable and childhood is plastic
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Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 11:46 AM UTC
Plastic
I recall from some time ago a pink plastic tea set a white plastic rocking chair and a yellow plastic pony with blue plastic hair,      which was impossible to untangle except for with the green plastic brush that belonged to my blonde barbie doll out of her plastic vanity cabinet beneath her plastic vanity mirror,      which she checked her makeup in before meeting her plastic boyfriend in his plastic van to go to a plastic diner that served plastic pizza,      which was really just a sticker on a tiny plastic plate that would get lost in the bottom of my plastic toybox,      which had a plastic lid that was also my sailboat that brought me to a plastic castle with a plastic princess who had the prettiest plastic eyes and the most elaborate plastic dress and the shiniest plastic crown,      which was the envy of all the plastic women in the entire plastic kingdom,      which was really just a plastic castle surrounded by an enchanted plastic forest filled with furry plastic creatures all atop a clear plastic box,      which held the plastic dishes and plastic glasses and plastic food in case a feast should be thrown for an unexpected plastic guest from a plastic kingdom in the far east,      which was really just a plastic plate placed on the plastic-coated windowsill,      from which I would peer into the blue sky through broken plastic binoculars while standing on a yellow and green plastic step stool,      which when turned upside down became not simply a make-shift plastic sailboat, but a glorious, luxury plastic cruise liner for my pretty plastic dolls      and I would board my toybox lid      and we would sail into a perfect plastic horizon      which was really just a white plastic baby gate that kept me from tumbling into the world downstairs where things are wooden and glass and cloth but not plastic for plastic is synthetic and plastic is superficial and plastic looks bad against gilded wallpaper but plastic is cheaper and plastic is safer and plastic is durable and childhood is plastic
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75
/ One day, With the absence of my mind Ran to the river What might cause for getting the creeps I called out to her tune, Would draw the magnitude Which  made, A stream of love Reserved my chest with a colorful sailboat I was moving Along the unknown way with playing flute Then came one of the exotic path The distant villages, Then along the earthy way The meantime When I became tired, Have to rest In the shade of green Dropped the melody of birds Plucked the flowers, Hoped the song with flute Then suddenly I came to your home yard You heard my mystic songs And to be loved, Beloved--   Was filled with songs of bird Sky, Air, Meadows That earthy way Stars stood up   Filled the night sky The river grew with Silver Moon Yet Fill with the moonlight Follow the river down To My old boat along the moonlit / @Musfiq us shaleheen
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Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
old boat along moonlit
We lay on our backs, looking up to the sky, watching the clouds drift and dance across the indescribable expanse of summer blue. Shameless, we shout the first things that come to mind, whatever we think see floating above us. Turtle. Sailboat. Dragon. Elephant. Chair. Fire truck. And we laugh, because we know they’re just amorphous masses of water vapor, floating without reason or destination. And the clouds, they lay on their stomachs. They look down with wonder, pointing and giggling. They tumble and roll across the sky, watching our lives below. Shameless, they whisper to each other the first thing that comes to mind, whatever they think they see below them. Mother. Leader. Writer. Musician. Son. Lover. And their laughter thunders across the sky, echoing raucously through the air because they know we’re just amorphous masses of water vapor, wandering across the earth without emotion or purpose. Who do we think we are?
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Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:08 AM UTC
CeeVee, Texas.
Sailboat on a purple sea Yellow skies are all she sees Lonely Captain at the helm Lord o’er all her ocean realm. Sailboat on a purple sea Sailing through Eternity The yellow skies reveal her ardor Searching for inlet or harbor. Where she can safely drop her anchor Without hostility or rancor Stay forever, or a day If on a whim she sails away. To search again for other shores Unmindful of the ocean’s mores. Sometimes storms impede her course Fill her journey with remorse Thunder sounds a deaf’ning roar Through driving rain, can’t see the shore Lightning bolts around her flash As if to call the Captain brash For thinking that she has control Over purple ocean’s vitriol. If ever she regrets her plight When yellow skies turn dark at night And midnight storms have lead to loss She rights the ship and bears the cross And waits for morning dawn to break Sun through last night’s rain will make A rainbow reaching far away Certainly it will show the way To steer her sailboat that day. Sailboat on a purple sea Yellow skies are all she sees Buoyant Captain at the helm Lord o’er all her ocean realm. PwL 04/21/15
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Sailboat on a Purple Sea
She moved towards me like silk moves in a breeze. Her glow was soft, yet strikingly strong. Eyes brown and big like an oak tree in summer with rays of golden sun stung throughout. She moved as if an angel slowly awakening inside her. Her long brunette hair shimmered as it gracefully fell along her shoulders resting upon her ******* I would call her body smooth like softly blown waves in the sea, but no justice would it give to her. Her smile could make any woman stop in her tracks, just to appreciate the glorious happiness it brings. Her laugh brings joy like the peace nature brings in solitude. A total eclipse of winters cold, only allowing warm spring and summer. Hips a sailboat rocked by a beat only she could know. Sweet kisses with lips that taste like the most perfectly ripe fruit. Her hands touch as water does; politely gracing your skin and leaving you with droplets slowly fading. Her glance love-filled as a lover of many years might look at you. She is beauty from the inside out; she is graceful with every step; she is everything I want, and so much more.
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Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 10:12 AM UTC
Her . . .
She reveled above the film of Central Park sun-rays Angel of granite, seductress of seagulls Perched above her iconic feathered fingers Angel of granite, enchanter of flocks of well traveled bodies flecked with salty sea crystals Angel of granite, fountain May Cascades dancing diamonds from her feet Posing for pictures, frozen in heat of Summertime sailboat breeze Angel of granite, goddess of brittle bird bones wading in chlorine puddles of tears
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 8:44 PM UTC
Seductress of Seagulls
And you left me like a baby flower choking On dust, and loss of future blooming, And tremors like Eos's tears On the stillest vernal pool - It was as if you stole my life and simply Went - or put me on my little sailboat That sang of youth and an hourglass, a Duet composed in the ***** crystal of purgatory, Between my insatiably wild stronghold and The rosy maiden, blushing, full, yet Dumb, willingly deaf to red flags, Praying for a partner to make a golden Lady of the wood and water And light, so warm and shimmering under The forest's pine-down cover - what a Big, hasty mistake, to keep yourself Hollow and blind to the day's good things, to remain a Man alone, wistfully misplacing a love Who showed the loyalty of a crimson kindness, and who Was always singing bliss and beauty and glowing into your ears, So stuffed with lies, bitterness, ideals, and Full like drunken leeches - all this, and the coldness, the stubbornness Of the oldest mule, to stay isolated from my Loving eyes, to make time with our sorrowful Echoes, yours and mine. *vertical quote from Kurt Vonnegut's Slaughterhouse-Five
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 10:26 AM UTC
Weakness
If I could send a message in a bottle Of every thought I’ve ever thought of you It’d take a million years for you to read it I bet I’d leave you speechless Because I know that you’ve never doubted Any love that’s true If I could sail the ocean on a sailboat I’d search around the world for you, my dear I would even stop for a moment Because you’re my one and only And nothing would mean more to me Than having you right here I have this funny feeling that you’re waiting Praying every night I’ll come around Take you in my arms and give you comfort Even though I was hurt Because you took my heart into the air And then dropped it to the ground I wish that I would find you on an island With nothing of your own but a cigarette All alone and talking to no one I will be your someone Because I loved you at the darkest times Just like the day we met
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Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 8:26 PM UTC
Every Sailor Has a Destination
I am lost at sea. I am a traveler on a sailboat with not even a single hint of where i am headed. The wind gushes and i trust it for wherever it takes me. There is no map. There is no star nor sun to guide my path. I have lost my compass years ago; But somehow even if the wind can’t speak, I close my eyes from time to time and try to feel it, Whispering and hoping that it would eventually lead me to my true north which is you.
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Jul 29, 2017
Jul 29, 2017 at 6:00 AM UTC
Lost Traveler
Like drinking water out of mason jars Like reading through fake plastic glass Like dressing in your grandparents bolts of fabric Like holding an unfiltered cigarette Or even better a wooden pipe… Smoke swelling in closed mouths And nostrils blowing in sailboat clouds Down to the next not- Starbucks To sit on a velvet couch with Coral painted nails and a chai in hand... You all can be like this. With no workout clothes and With at least two piercings in your nose You all are like this soon enough. Who gave you the idea to pick up the Ukulele anyway? Who gave you the idea to shave one quarter Of your head? We all did. We all are a Fleet of individual sameness, A want to stand out from the Cookie- cutter looks, But now we’re all cupcakes With the same story but with Different hooks For hands, snagging the rest Of us along. With your identical twin lipstick And Birkenstock feet. The lack of shock we absorb Gets lonely and depressing. So lets all move to Montreal And French kiss and knit And maybe real soon the Croissants will go stale And it’ll be cool to live In Moose Jaw, Saskatchewan.
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Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
To Be Like You is...
A boat, a world. Sailing unseen seas. Gathering legendary creatures. Mythical society contained within a sailboat. One world hidden within another, blind; no normal man can see beneath. Inspect, titans fire cannons, Charon runs sick bay. Lady Lorely has all webbed hands on deck, the blue men of the Minch guard the mighty Orpheus. Quiz you they will on will power and skill, all mortal men undone. Every battle is won by The Orpheus, without war.
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Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 2:02 PM UTC
The Orpheus
give me your secrets. the ones behind the closed door, with the rusted on lock, because its been a long time since anyone has entered. spread me open and lick my wounds until i've muttered your name so many times i'll never be able to forget it. show me something that will make me forget the hours i've spent crying. and love me. just love me. as if i were a sailboat, and you were the sea, and all we needed was each other.
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Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 11:39 PM UTC
sailboat
You always rebelled at the thought of obligation Obliviously you would rather opt out than be displayed as a duty done in insignificance A sailboat may be insignificant . . . a tiny speck upon the ocean But it sits high above the crests
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May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
The Sailboat
I have thought of you in this sticky heat in my self-imposed exile Half asleep, feeling broken in my bed that is an empty sailboat i blindly wave out my hands and smash them into the softness of your body because i need better proof that you are real i woke up three times today each time, choking like i had been held at the bottom of the sea with weights on my ankles only to break surface and see that the air is still salt water we talk of anchors of heavy weights that keep us run aground i stand on your anchor, feeling the sharp points dig into my feet wrap my arms around the cold metal from the distance i’d like to look like a mermaid with twin tails\ but i am a sailor, straddling the difference between earth and water i have thought of you in this sticky heat i have wanted to sweat out my misery with you soaking the sheets with salt water and when i wake up drowning you would press to my mouth the bruises i gave you in my sleep the only dry land between us
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Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
my bed that is an empty sailboat
تبحث سفينتي الشراعية عن مرفأ في تلك العيون الجميلة .... فأنا ابحر كراكب و كبحار و كقبطان في عوالم هذه العيون الجميلة .... لقد بدأت رحلتي منذ وقت بعيد و لا زالت ... انني اريد فقط ان اجد هذا المرفأ في هذه العيون ....
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Jan 27, 2015
Jan 27, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
My sailboat سفينتي الشراعية
There is a sailboat out at sea empty and lifeless as lonesome as can be      You can blow hard, but you'll fail      as you make no progress here      pressing against this furled sail Waves of the waters, Wind, I surmise you're waiting and hoping to watch it capsize
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Sep 2, 2011
Sep 2, 2011 at 11:00 PM UTC
Hot Air to the Mast
In the end, the little ones scampering about peppers, vibrant red and yellows and oranges disappearing into tiny mouths, behind toddling grins with Meme and Pepere beaming, a beautiful sailboat in their minds' eye that was fortunate enough to lose sight of the shore long ago
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Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
The Garden and a Dog
Doomed sailboat Unyielded to by the sea Sprinkling a crystal trail of Opaque-blue under the moonlight Last I saw of it that night or Anynight since.
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Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
Gardens of Gardenia
When you cry, I see a sailboat on your back, but float through clouds, their evaporate: morph substance-less. Taking us back to when you thought we would be dead, by tomorrow and the rain let up, though we still could sail in its thundering paint, like leather beads. I rolled in the canvas, laid our name on the vessel’s curtains. Every glitter sparks, this weather under our feet, shaking and sand-greens better than last sea. I breathe salt when you can’t sleep, my angel’s peach.
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Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 8:14 PM UTC
sailboat sad
*I fell asleep as a wave crashed, Water from the sea of glass nipped My toes. When I woke, the world Seemed strange; The same yet Smaller. Perhaps as a note in A bottle; words written by small Hands and sent off with wish Of such grand adventures.*
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Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
Imaginary Sailboat