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Noel Irion Jul 2011
the wind has caught up to us once again,
billowing around the spinnaker
as she dips the helm ten degrees starboard.
we've reached six knots,
a nautical dilemma when the cat's paws
signal the departure of a strong gust.
she rides the wind-waves,
a natural captain, she is,
as we continue on home.
a thank you to my sister for her excellent helms-work
Tammy Boehm Oct 2014
This peace you offer
Pinioned prayers and platitudes
Scry in the mercury shattered
Your brittle whispers snap in the rarified air

This madness is thunder at the back of my throat
Ragged and storm weary
I tread water in your wake
Spin my tahrihim and trim the fringe
I am the terminus of fragile breath
Falling away from you

Benedicimus Deum meum adventum et egrediente
There is solace in the blind blue moments
Let me surrender
To the baptism of despair
The upwelling catechism of deliquescence

Souls fall clutching the flesh
Gasping for one more shredding dream
Fill the spinnaker and set sail

I am no longer a seaworthy vessel
This tethered hope you offer
Stinging nettles in my mouth
On flitting wings
Is the drone of hornets in my hair

I crave
Oblivion
And you are bound to your promise
It is my free will

To let go...

06/12/12
TL Boehm

God bless my coming and my going out
*melt away/decay
The sky was a smudge-coloured blue up there
When the sailing ship came in,
With full top gallants and spinnaker flared
Full flight from a world of sin,
The mermaid carved on her prow was proud
As she breasted the salt-licked spray,
Her hair a-stream, as the waves she ploughed
And surged to Ascension Bay.

I’d watched her approach from the Sailor’s Rest
That lay way up on the cliff,
‘It isn’t a question of when,’ he’d said,
‘Nor even a question of if!
The ghost of ‘The Falls of Borrowdale’
Comes in with a clear blue sky,
It happens but once a year,’ he’d said
‘On the twenty-fifth of July!’

I’d laughed at him in the ‘Admiral’s Arms’
As he swallowed his seventh ale,
While others listened with frightened eyes
Each face was a shade of pale,
‘You’ll see it best from the Sailor’s Rest,
That ruin, up on the cliff,
But don’t get caught by the devil’s cohort
Swarming up from the ship.’

They’d scaled the cliff to the Sailor’s Rest,
I knew the story of old,
Had slain the crew of the ‘Captain Teck’,
Or so it was always told,
They’d left the ‘Rest’ in a sea of flames
For the sake of an ancient feud,
While ‘The Falls of Borrowdale’ lay wrecked
By the mutineers that crewed.

They’d seized young Molly, the serving girl
Who’d worked at the Sailor’s Rest,
Had pulled her hair and had pinned her down,
Exposed the girl at the breast,
They took their pleasure and dragged her out
To the edge of the cliff, and pale,
Then flung her screaming down to the deck
Of ‘The Falls of Borrowdale’.

And so it was that I lay with the glass
So firmly fixed to my eye,
Up on the cliff by the Sailor’s Rest
On the twenty-fifth of July,
The ghostly ship flew into the shore
Under a mass of sail,
No sign of the crew, no lookout stood
On watch at the forward rail.

The ship ground up on the Daley Rocks
Rose shrieking, up in the air,
Her timbers creaking and groaning with
The mermaid’s look of despair,
The crew poured out of the lower decks
And flung themselves overboard,
These phantoms, straight from the devil’s lair
To put good men to the sword.

I ran some way from the Sailor’s Rest
Lay under a bush, and hid,
I didn’t know what to do for the best
But watched, to see what they did,
They swarmed all over the Sailor’s Rest
Put everyone to the sword,
Then dragged poor Molly out on the grass
And I cried, ‘Please stop them, Lord!’

Then the phantoms stopped as they heard my cry
And they turned, each black as sin,
Molly let out a quivering sigh
And they burst in flames, within,
She stood alone at the edge of the cliff
And she waved, no longer pale,
While the mermaid smiled on the prow of the ship,
‘The Falls of Borrowdale.’

David Lewis Paget
Ah , those waterfront alley cats
Full of scars and paws
Fip Flip Flip , go the blades
Around the Heart's hub
As transon's go , they do
Take a beating in the ruff
And your spinnaker flurls
To the magic winds of
The long lost voice of midnight
No need to tack
All is "Flying"
And the Sphinx
Is smiling in silence
NitaAnn Jul 2014
You know how you have one of those days at work where time is crawling by and you want nothing more than for the day to be over and it feels excruciating? But then you put your nose to the grindstone and just slug it out. And you do not stop until the end of the day.

That is how I feel today, only I have different work to do. And the work I have to do is like that project you put off because you just do not want to do it. It is that file you put on the bottom of everything and just hope it will resolve itself. But you know it will not. Every day you pick up that file thinking today may be the day you will get started. But you do not. You have questions about some of the material in the file, you are not sure what to do, and you are unable to complete the project because there is nobody around to answer your questions. You have left several messages for her, the woman who was supposed to answer your questions, but she has not called you back. And now you are angry because you need guidance! You need her help you, you cannot do it on your own! But it has been too long now. She is not going to call you back...she is not going to give you the directions you need to complete this project. You know that you are on your own now.

That is how I feel right now. The file before me is filled with my life, my past, and my painful memories. It contains my feelings of shame, sadness, anger…hopelessness and worthlessness. The project is to take each page and fit it together like a puzzle…and once the puzzle is together, the project will be complete and I will be whole.

                                      But I do not know where to start.
                                                           I am lost.
                                     I feel like a ship without a rudder.
                                       A sailboat without a spinnaker.
                                       I am a tourist without a guide.
                  I am a lost child without her mother... alone and frightened.
                            I am crying…but she can no longer hear me.
There’s been so much bad luck
Blowing in the gales of life,
The sails of my happiness are
Tattered and won’t hold the wind.
Life has long been such a heavy load
My little boat is listing
And it needs to be rebalanced.
I have stores of ballast, so
My little craft won’t sink.
My twisted fingers still can hold
A needle to mend the spinnaker.
The tiller isn’t broken and
The rudder still steers true.
I can see the distant shore
And the tide is lifting me.
Soon I will make landfall and be safe
ljm
Finally gettting eccited about the move to Nevada.  All the crap will at last be over.
Robert Jaensch Dec 2016
One minute moment of I’m OK
A razors edge of lingering doubt
A use by date written for me
This attempt will be the last
Wondering of the peel and reveal
Resilience, bouncing back again
I will know for sure this time around
No more talk of Thelma and Louise
I will exit stage right, walk away
Unmoved by breath of your words
Travel together spinnaker set
Or gybe away, set our own course
A W Bullen Aug 2021
Shingle shook,
these bookish handles
cove your head in herringbone,

It's sewn into
our standard-issue,

dangled under spinnaker

Here,
you and I
will come to terms
the terms of our endearment


a curvature of earthliness,
in miniature exemplified

the surfeit of our inadvertent
vertebrae declined
toward

the wave
JidosReality Nov 2017
Take a moment once in a while, to pause to breath reflect and smile. Let’s all stand tall with respect and pride. And make Portsmouth’s Hero Lord Nelson proud as he watchers his beautiful city smile.

Take my hands and let’s climb up the spinnaker tower, Think happy thoughts and look around.Thank you to Portsmouth City for welcoming me me into this amazing town. Take a run down the sea front pass Clarence pier.

Feel the sun on your face your feet on the ground. Count the stars and examine the sky. Catch the rain and watch the birds fly.

Make something from silence let words lift your soul, and explore every sweet bit of your beautiful soul. My life cuddles destiny and bought me to this place where I was meant to be.

The Gloves on my hands meditating in this boxing ring, my future whispering to my thoughts as I think. Determination and hard work early morning starts.

I will start from the bottom and work my way to the top. Heart beating fast many emotions trying to get out. My thoughts whispering to me.

Float like a Butterfly sting like a Bee” for you are a champion a role model the world needs to see. Inspired by the greats~ Lord Nelson- Mohamed Ali.

So follow your dreams and never give up, and always work hard, your day will arrive at the right time. Remember your stars always shining to bright up the night.

JidosReality 5.10.17
Amazing just so amazing #JidosReality #Poetry #JourneysFestervel
Jude kyrie Aug 2015
A Prayer in the Storm
By
Jude Kyrie

You are new unblemished
from all of life’s torrents.
Your sweet eyes
absorbing your new world.
Like an astronaut
landing upon a strange planet.
Full of wonder bemusement
Fears and joys.

The storm outside
builds on the wild prairie.
Thunder roars in the distance.
Your window open
lace curtains
billowing like a spinnaker.

The cold front fills the room
As I hold your
tiny body to me.
Your mouth milk soured
Your soul
singing in innocence.

I feel the need to protect you
From the storm now
and those to come
in your life ahead.
The ones which will
tear at your heart.
breaking it in two.

I feel the shame
of the waste
of my own life.
And turn your face from it.

I say a prayer of favour to
the heavens
And speak it out loud for you.
To enter into your heart
never to forget this
blood earned lesson.

Live with joy
in your soul
My angel
And never leave
those things that I have
left undone.

— The End —