"swimmers" poems
#*Your hair stills heart's rhythmic meter
For this I wish forever
Strands spun with goddess gossamer;
softer than touch of mother
Your eyes dazzle with no glitter
For this I stare o're yonder
Locking jewels with coins of others;
Leaves throbbing chests emptier
Your form flows as gentle rivers
For this I grudge past swimmers
Glory bequeathed to the winner;
drown will the losing suitors
Your voice humbles angel choirs
For this I listen eager
Songs molding seraphs from satyrs;
in harmony with nature
Your being stirs wildfire
For this I bear the pleasure
Ethereal flames dance together;
fueled by spiritual tethers
You are my love light of summer
For this I waded winter
Glowing 'bove, spring was made greener;
blooming nascent desire*#
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 5:29 PM UTC
I swim,
under the twilight sky,
my heart is pounding & my arms are paddling,
struggling to breathe,
yet I push on,
to reach the other wall.
I hear,
muffled splashes
across the lanes as swimmers glide by,
though I could hardly see,
yet I could feel,
one of them fills the pool.
I wonder,
why I press on,
for my health or my heart?
by now my legs are aching and my arms are heavy,
yet it is a joy,
to be in my hiding place.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 10:39 PM UTC
The invitation had arrived and I was over the moon
It is really quite a mouthful, and it is coming soon
The Second International Gender Non-Specific
Inter-Denominational, from Atlantic to Pacific
Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
It's been eight years since the first was won by China
It was held in Illinois in a place known as Medinah
Turns out the swimmers used were just not what they seemed
The chinese had a total of nine atheists on their team
So, the time has come to try again and bring it to fruition
The I.G.N.I.D Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
No date has been decided yet, due to issues with each church
So, even though the invitations out, we're still left in the lurch
Saturday is out because the Jews are all at temple
Sunday, the Christians all must set a good example
Friday, cuts the muslims out for they are at Mosque praying
So we've four days to hold this meet, is what I am now saying
The Chinese team is back again, but the Atheists are out
The team's made up of Christians and two Jews who are devout
Their working on a movement that involves making a cross
The Christian swimmers get it but the Jews don't give a toss
The team from Israel's withdrawn because they are all sitting Shivah
They had a coach drown last week, he hit his head while in the River
The Arabs won't be back, you see they're not interested in the least
They get confused while under water and don't know which way is east
The I.G.N.I.D Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
Will take place in the New Year, we just need to get permission
The Jews won't swim with Muslims, and the Sikhs are up in arms
Because swimming with their daggers may cause other swimmers harm
But, we've got a great location at the lake up at the park
We can use it when we want to , but it must be after dark
Remember keep an eye out for a poster where you pray
We don't know just when we'll hold it, it may just be today
This is your invitation and the event is coming soon
It is really quite a mouthful, and it'll be held beneath the moon
The Second International Gender Non-Specific
Inter-Denominational, from Atlantic to Pacific
Freshwater Synchronized Swimming Competition
See you there...
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
Hello swans with your brown signets
On the near edges where the weeds blend
And the green meets the trusted stoney bed
You frighten a little with those huge wings
The strength to **** if fear struck an orange eye.
The ducks and drakes trailing fluffy ducklings
So linger daring the hands of bread and biscuits
A continuity of return until fat and bloated, stop.
Their tail feathers sharing a twitching line march
As they swim back to the safety of the reed beds.
Love Mary
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 10:27 AM UTC
At the end of the pier you could look out to sea
Listening to the swell flap on the rusty cast iron
Of geometrical supports.
Barnacles clung, sealed like gold nuggets
And in the distance the slow **** of a tanker.
The wind would whisk around the terminal
Throwing hair to the sky
Floating chandelier skirts tipped
Revealing best underwear.
And the clock sang its time to the birds.
Over both sides were fishing rod rows
Their owners sitting on canvas stools
Above seagulls nibbled the air for food scraps
And beneath strong swimmers bobbed
Watching children skim pebbles in the waves.
Love Mary xxxx
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 10:34 AM UTC
I don't remember my Mother's womb;
The biological Apartment I stayed almost
Rent-free (on my part, anyway) for
Three-quarters of an Eternity
The doorway into reality I got to use
Kicking it around my tiny little round flat,
Seeing the scars on the walls from the
Nine renters before me
Three of whom did not make it past the 90-day
Warranty. I do remember hearing about Joseph, taken back
Into God's Loving Arms for reasons He only knew;
Joseph was no more, so the Third Renter was my sister
Cathy, Cacky-Wacky, I used to call her, rousing a bemused
Smile, the ghost of Joseph a mote of brown in her left eye-
But back to me...
Dad saw my little worm and shouted for joy
A boy! A baby boy! I've finally a Son!
Mom, exhausted, yet a "ROOM FOR RENT" sign
Hanging a month and many sleepless nights away
Filled by Dad's amazingly virile and potent
Back-stroking Swimmers-
Me crying at the shouting of the big fuzzy man-shape
Who cradled me in hairy simian-like arms, ham-hock
Hands holding me gently like I was a Precious Gift from God
When I die, I will be
Wombed again, in Heaven's Birthing Room, my Spirit
Exiting from its earthly skin-shell, into the Hands of
God my Father. My Mother will be there,
No longer worn-out from being an Eleven-Room
A Sacrifice standing beside her, herself a sacrifice
Testament of the perpetuation of the Human Race
I think I have much to live for, here;
I KNOW I have an infinite Eternity waiting for me in
Heaven's Womb
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 12:40 PM UTC
احب نفسك اولا
(love yourself first)
From the moment I met you,
I was intrigued.
Your eyes were like
A vast blue ocean
That would pull me in
Sometimes welcoming,
Letting me stay afloat
Just long enough to enjoy myself
Other times willing me to drown
And drown, I did
You pulled me completely under
Without stopping to let me breathe
I almost died
Except I didn't die
Just as I gasped one last breath,
You helped me back to shore
Made sure I breathed again
That was when you told me you loved me
And right in that moment I wanted to kiss you
I craved you the way trees crave carbon dioxide
And you said there were times
When you wanted to kiss me
And just for a moment
I let myself imagine
I thought of your strong arms around my body,
Keeping me safe, while wanting every piece of me
Kissing the scars that align my skin
Like a map of my regrets
Wiping any tears I cried away
And that was when
You pulled me back under
you shattered every piece of my already broken heart
"I can't love you, because I'll end up hurt"
Were your exact words
And if I remember correctly,
Those were my words to you
The first time we exchanged
"I love you's"
And as I remembered this,
A riptide occurred
*Riptide (n): a strong current caused by tidal flow in confined
areas and presenting a hazard to swimmers and boaters*
you were a hazard to my state of mind
You ruined what was left of my sanity
But it was when you decided to block me out
That I was finally able to realize this fact:
I was so busy trying to stay afloat, alive
In your fatal whirlpool of an ocean
In the ocean of your blue eyes
That I fell too hard for you
Before thinking to fall
For myself
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:44 AM UTC
201
Two swimmers wrestled on the spar—
Until the morning sun—
When One—turned smiling to the land—
Oh God! the Other One!
The stray ships—passing—
Spied a face—
Upon the waters borne—
With eyes in death—still begging raised—
And hands—beseeching—thrown!
3.5k
Sometimes we run
into the arms of a terrible person
just trying to escape a broken heart
because loneliness has been known
to taste like warm whiskey,
parliament lights and the kiss
of a lack luster lover who spent more time
trying to lie you between the covers
than they did learning to say your name
out loud, you know the type.
I'd be lying too if I didn't say
I've been that kind, that tall glass of water
promising to dampen a dry tongue
which ain't got the courage to say I'm sorry,
not to nobody else but to themselves.
So I want apologize for not seeing
or perhaps ignoring how crushed you were
when I rolled you up in my arms
the way hikers do sleeping bags
and I held you in my lap
because the car was packed
and I didn't know where else to put you.
You must have felt safe there
thinking you were the place
for me to lay my head on this road trip
we call life, but little did you know
had the trunk not been full
I would have been sitting alone
face aglow from my cellular phone
texting other women,
probably with a smile.
I am here to tell you, you deserve better
and I don't want you ever settle
for anything less than a lover's embrace
because comfort plus time
equals unease on your mind.
Worrying whether this companion of yours
has become a stone tied to your heart
with a heavy rope and its tugging you down
into the dark blue depths
filling your lungs with ice cold seawater
with every last breath.
I want you to be with someone
you can chase for the rest of your life
and when you get tired of swimming
they won't leave you treading,
chumming shark infested waters
with blood from a poorly stitched heart
but they will follow and follow
until you both find that deserted island,
that paradise you promised one another.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 10:55 AM UTC
drought dry only a fortnight, and no trace
of the swimmers--not a bloated bass or a skeletal carp
only a few lily pads burnt russet by the sun
all else, perverse interlopers from modernity:
bullet banged beer cans, truck tires,
and the ubiquitous bottle water plastic
waiting patiently for the next ice age
no sign of one fish that emitted a last gilled gasp here
deep beneath the bed though
progenitors rest, theirs and ours,
antediluvian, Permian, as permanent as the word allows
my footfalls above them today
tomorrow silent where they lay
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 4:06 PM UTC
Leaves
Murmuring by miriads in the shimmering trees.
Lives
Wakening with wonder in the Pyrenees.
Birds
Cheerily chirping in the early day.
Bards
Singing of summer, scything thro' the hay.
Bees
Shaking the heavy dews from bloom and frond.
Boys
Bursting the surface of the ebony pond.
Flashes
Of swimmers carving thro' the sparkling cold.
Fleshes
Gleaming with wetness to the morning gold.
A mead
Bordered about with warbling water brooks.
A maid
Laughing the love-laugh with me; proud of looks.
The heat
Throbbing between the upland and the peak.
Her heart
Quivering with passion to my pressed cheek.
Braiding
Of floating flames across the mountain brow.
Brooding
Of stillness; and a sighing of the bough.
Stirs
Of leaflets in the gloom; soft petal-showers;
Stars
Expanding with the starr'd nocturnal flowers.
3.1k
**The glass bowl stands-a fragile shell
For puny, puffing orange swimmers
Flimsy as the frosting on a wedding cake
You, an endearing fool care too much
For goldfish- that on a bleak Sunday evening
When the weather’s offbeat and the curtains
Appear especially dull- and you slouch back on
Your favorite divan regretting the choice of
Wall-color and some slightly more cardinal matters
Will die on you-
All you asked was for the dumb goldfish to keep
Scurrying about- but no, today’s not your day.
Your heart is a shore pebble and your lips are
As twisted as a winding hill road
As you regret ever having brought in the goldfish that die.**
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
I walked along the sandy beach with a crisp breeze gliding through my hair,
I gazed out into the crystal clear water and thought about life.
I thought about how my life was like that ocean...vast and open.
I thought about all the people that have swam in that ocean and in
turn, swam through my life.
The people who just stuck their tiny toes into my great unknown, but
found the water too warm or too chilled. The people that dove in
without understanding the full complexity of navigating the unmapped
depths of my humanity and in turn, quickly fled for shore.
Finally, the people that waded gently into that great wide open found
that, when done at a resonable pace, the water was just fine.
These were the swimmers that have been coming back to the beach for a
long time now, and these were the ones I liked having around.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 11:59 AM UTC
Lazy days and choppy waves
Upon a copper sea,
A breezy, warming westerly
Is blowing down on me.
Sunlight striking wavelets
Below clouds of cotton cool
And seagulls hang in squadron lines
Aloft from oyster pool.
Road signs judder in the breeze
Ripples weave amongst long grass,
Mangroves bend in unison
And asphalt bakes in molten glass.
A parasol of brilliant blue
A picnic basket brimming high
With lemonade and icy beer
Whilst sausages and onions fry.
Two barking dogs cavort with joy
Chasing hard on sandy beach,
Leaping high in summer air
Running, fetching, ***** to each.
The lazy summer saunters in
Engulfing us with solar heat,
The pretty girls wear tiny shorts
Which breathless boys find such a treat.
Pohutukawa’s bursting forth
In waves of rich and scarlet red
Which juxtapose dark olive greens
Of leafage midst each flower bed.
A sky of brilliant powder blue
With salt spray aura in the air
As swimmers splash in gales of fun
Hot sunlight baubles kiss their hair.
Marshalg
Port Waikato beach
15 November 2011
© 2011 Marshal Gebbie
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 12:28 PM UTC
Beneath the water lived a nymph, beautiful as
A flower, if you like woman with petals
Growing from out of their face
And lips adorned with myriad metals
Moving silently with infinite grace.
Fishermen who caught her, in alarm
Tossed her back with dismayed cries
Fearful that she would do them harm
When she exposed her fangs, darting from her eyes,
Forked tongues from each palm.
But apart from all that, she was a delightful creature
As proud as a catwalk model
Sexuality impressed into each feature
Death in each cuddle,
Poison injected from each freshly opening suture.
At the sea’s dark bottom lived the nymph
Devouring fish raw, terrifying sharks and barracuda,
Dining on shellfish and prawns for lunch;
Darting amongst Angel Fish and eels, a hungry aficionada,
Tearing into shreds what she could not crunch.
Gentle with her own kind until coition
Was complete, when if hungry she devoured
Her temporary mate without undue consideration,
No please or thank you. Feeling duly empowered
By her actions, as confirmed by her explosive, acrid indigestion.
No longer young, her children dead,
She glides through the water from China to France
A preposterous seaweed hat upon her head
And in several places, impaling her scaly flesh a serrated coral branch.
Her sartorial taste filling even the sharks with fin-quaking dread.
The last of the kind. The others are (literally) toast.
Protected by animal charities here and abroad
She gladly subsists on ambitious swimmers who venture far from the coast
All she can now catch or afford.
A capricious tyrant until the last, when, victim of a fisherman’s boast
She was hoist up like iniquitous cod
Out of the sea, paraded on the deck while she struggled for breath.
Shot at. Abused. Poked and speared with a steel tipped rod,
Dragged into the harbour, pummelled close to death.
Screaming out, as she in unexpected agony died: “I thought, I truly thought, I was god!”
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 2:06 PM UTC
I am sat
In a tight picnic circle
Laid on the grey sand
I am a crusted seashell,
I am the limpets which cling to my skin
Like a sunken chest
The waves and sea gulls call
For each other and the cold
In the distance. The swimmers. The Irish
Sea and the Irish cold
Whistling,
The sea and the clouds
You are the froth
Flowing through my lungs like a white
Feather fallen from the sky
Silent
And dry
The rock's green hair swaying
The wind strikes the eye
Like a splash
And decays with
The grace of a coffin
For me the reeds have born their fruit
They stab the naked
Skin, you are still
Sleeping on your side
In the tent
You are still beautiful
Within, soon the ***** will unfold
And we shall embrace
The sea and her sons
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:27 PM UTC
LET the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere.
Let 'em hawk their caw and caw.
Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump.
He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of years
And the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head.
Let his red head drum and drum.
Let the dark pools hold the birds in a looking-glass.
And if the pool wishes, let it shiver to the blur of many wings, old swimmers from old places.
Let the redwing streak a line of vermillion on the green wood lines.
And the mist along the river fix its purple in lines of a woman's shawl on lazy shoulders.
2k
There is a more gruesome side of life
Or rather, there is life.
There is an up
And
There is a down.
Like the heaving chest of triathlete
Throbbing up and down
Like the pounding feet against the asphalt
Ticking off mile after mile
Like the steady streamline of a swimmers momentum
Breaking with each stroke
Just like life.
But so often you ride the crest of the wave
And when it begins to break beneath its own weight
Suddenly
You gasp for air.
Like a disappearing commodity
You struggle and contort and persevere
In raging blindness
And instead,
You swallow up a mouth full bitterness hate sorrow and self-pity
And spit it out when the calm returns
Only to find
That the water left when it was spewed away,
But, My Dear,
And it’s a “but” of much dismay,
But My Dear, I do regret
The bitterness, hate, sorrow, and self-pity
You failed to spew.
And now,
Now life is miserable to you.
But, I know how it goes.
We both do.
We both know that after a while
The bitterness and hate and sorrow and self-pity
Will fade from your mouth,
And your lips will curl into the slightest smile
But I fear, and you know all too well
Each time the wave breaks
You become more immune
You become more accustomed
And eventually it will just linger on,
And you and I know
Just how dangerous it is
Because you wont even recognize
That you are infected.
And the bitterness and hate and sorrow and self-pity
Will become the only taste you know
So be careful my dear
Those once sweet lips
Have become bittersweet
And I fear the hour
When all that’s left
Is bitterness.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
The pebbles of your core
shine in ruminated scores
like a sorcerer spiking more
unlisting storms and ores
Smile dear rock, from a mile
touch the source of love ice
melt those gorgeous pure eyes
to the specks of the shiny shores
The rocky waves smell of testicles
Vestibules and alleyways of fertility
sung by Cronus as he holds a knife
eager to mutilate from a skyview
The sandy waters sink in Gaia hymns
as the scythe shed the slices of foams
where scattered sperms stays awash
to wish swimmers an eternal beauty
Ohh sacred gods on the aphrodite hills
Spread love unseen, unknown,unheard
stain the precedent of the flowing wind
give me the hint, a seat on the sainted scent
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 2:40 PM UTC
"The River"
The river flows on
The current is strong
I go through the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward
I have tried swimming upstream
Frustrated and exhausted
I gave up
And the river carried me on
I swim very badly alone
I must have the help of the others
The others in the river with me
I thought this made me weak
I tried for a long time to swim alone
It was very hard and frightening
Sometimes I almost drowned
I had to ask for help
Or die
The ones close to me kept me afloat
Even though I did not like them much
They scared me
They scared me almost as much as drowning
Almost
I asked them where the land was
The land where I could stop
And rest
They said there was only the river
This frightened me also
No place to rest
Ever
Always the river
Always the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward
I knew I could not do it
They told me they could not do it either
That when they were tired
Or frightened
They asked the others to hold them
To keep them afloat
So they could rest
I had never tried this
I thought they would just let me drown
I thought I must learn to swim alone
I was wrong
The others have told me a story
About another river
A river we go to after we die
They say it is very beautiful
Calm and peaceful
With a very strong person
Who holds up everyone who gets tired
I like to think about it sometimes
It makes me happy
Yet I hope
That we can still help each other
When we want to
For that is a very wonderful thing
There are many people in the river
Some are very selfish
And laugh when I ask for help
They are very good swimmers
Very strong and determined
But the river is very strong too
And there is no land to rest on
Ever
And sooner or later
They too must ask for help
Or die
I hope they ask for help
For the river is very beautiful
But I never saw this before
I was always to tired
Trying to swim alone
There are many others in the river
Many are like me
We are very weak swimmers
And we sometimes forget things
So we get together often
To help each other stay afloat
To help each other rest
And to help each other
Remember things
And it is very nice
Sometimes
Even with much help
Someone drowns
But this is the way of the river
It hurts
For we will miss them
But many of us believe the story
About the other river
With the person who is very strong
And helps us all to rest
So
The river flows on
The current is strong
We go through the rapids and eddies
Always moving forward
And we help each other to rest
And may it always be so.
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
Half cut teens dressed in high street dreams
stand and survey the beach,
combing it for male shells, to clarify:
guys who think crucifix tattoos on their lower leg will save them from hell.
A mother whose job it is to look after surfboard and parasol,
yes you the mother looking my way,
you should ditch the marriage and get on the road,
hug the coast with tire squeals,
hug men with body sacrificing screams in
cheap French roadside hotels that don’t clean their bathrooms that well.
Girlfriend left to sit the sun out whilst boyfriend joins husbands in the surf,
reads but really she’s breathing,
passing the hours and folding over page corners,
don’t let him see that you don’t love him.
Tablet kids who watch the sea on screen, in apps,
when behind them is a torrent of live data swells and boils
causing swimmers to tumble and coil up close to the sea bed,
some parents, increasingly the same,
forgetting why they came to the coast in the first place.
Aug 18, 2013
Aug 18, 2013 at 3:54 PM UTC
i.
the stars do not shine
loneliness presses the air
into a tangle of last years withered
leaves,
loneliness in summer leaves
that whisper to a grey moon
a song of regret.
ii.
dreams of midnight,
cool rain,
songs more alive
than this low-roofed night.
iii.
teardrops like the ghostly moon, lost
against the heart that
flutters like a dark sky
breathing stars.
iv.
the mottled horizon
pools into greys,
tender eyed with
soft sadness,
in these dim hours when silence
cloaks the woods and
human laughter disappears
we sink against the softer sky
and the slow fade of moon and
long for dream, for everything
to reawaken and unwind.
v.
we are swimmers heading as far
out as we can get. surreal silver
stars, opening like flowers,
refusing to drown.
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 10:45 AM UTC
We all live in a vast sea of humanity
Surrounded by forces of brutality
The strong always inherit the earth
The weak have suffered since birth
The swimmers embrace as a whole
While the drowning are left in the cold
Once I was a drowner desperate to swim
Destined to join the swimmers was my hymn
Straying away from myself couldn't stay me afloat
Dependence on the strong questioned my code
All on myself left the drowners to their descent
The abyss swallowed me until I made my repent
Praise for the swimmers and ignorance to the drowners
These actions were of no strength but my worst failures
Blood spilled from my heart yet there was a saviour
Turning to my kind was I no longer a traitor
I brought them out of the darkness to the light
We became a force very strong the further we tight
As we rallied our strength, we fought our way to the surface
Torn hearts became sewn into one without weakness
Our return journey was not of acceptance but for truth
We found no light with the swimmers for our soothe
But from within we found our own suns of nourish
Embracing who we are founded our true courage
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC