The Prow
there you are, you're with me
protecting all my crew
I carved you, from a tree
my vision is you
Lorelei, I have thee
in front of my ship
cutting waves, at full speed
savouring the trip
down the mirror of the waterline
leaning over underwater life
hidden treasures of the seven seas
I'm starboard to nowhere
on the milky way
howling wind, salty air
tearing at the sails
looking down the crow's nest
gliding in the sky
without sound, going west
boating on the fly
but some day
you'll go home
far away
on your own
dans la mer
you'll go down
go down where
you belong
===
song performed by by Voivod

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Flying Dutchman
The blue water stretches
as far as visibility allows to see
and there’s fog
rising white before the storm
out of the water.
The dusk becomes grey
and the sea from blue to dark black
while the night
darker than ink, as only companion
folds over the old ancient ship.
It’s Van der Decken standing as tiller man
behind the big wheel
and forever he steers the ship
on the journey that she goes.
Always cursing
his loud voice thunders
like lightning falling around him
for sailors to tend the sails right
and sails are hoisted crunching, groaning and trembling
with strong ropes
and the ship jumps
over the smashing waves.
Like a phantom
the Flying Dutchman appears
with white sails like a wraith
over the horizon
where it sails before a storm with speed.
The ship becomes lager
as the storm wind
brings her closer
and you hear her creak
against the power of the wind.
There’s thunder bolts blinding suddenly
and sea birds flies screeching
out in front of her,
while Van der Decken’s skeleton
drills his men powerless
to set the sails right
that is vibrating against the wind.
“How long still Lord, ”
echoes against the sea and sky,
without a answer
ever coming
and suddenly the ship is gone
as if it disappeared in the naught.
poem by Gert Strydom

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The Merchant
Where sails the ship?--It leads the Tyrian forth
For the rich amber of the liberal north.
Be kind, ye seas--winds, lend your gentlest wing,
May in each creek sweet wells restoring spring!--
To you, ye gods, belong the merchant!--o'er
The waves his sails the wide world's goods explore;
And, all the while, wherever waft the gales
The wide world's good sails with him as he sails!
poem by Friedrich Schiller

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Sea Rogues
Out in the sea, in the rough waves
A ruffian galleon in pursuit of ill-gotten wealth
Its crew of sea rogues out for stealing
They are led by a dark-hearted captain, Captain Health
This crew goes about stealing and killing
A terrible life for which they crave
A merchant galleon, they spotted
The ruffian ship on hot heels of the rich-laden ship
Moving forth at a speed to get closer
The ship of bandits had the merchant ship within its grip
The other ship, filled with chaos, disorder
Robbed clean and dry, the ship had bloodshed
Taking everything they’ve stolen
The sea rogues rejoiced with the prized stolen items
For celebration, they drank rounds of rum
To have amassed jewels, gems of great desire to them
Sang songs of the seas, played with pipes and drums
This is a sea life, they see as golden
They set sail towards land for keeps
Going at a great speed, the galleon headed west
The days went by, until they reached the shores
The rogues rejoiced, their journey laid to rest
Packing the stolen riches was the chore
The sea rogues had them treasured somewhere deep
The stolen riches are kept somewhere
Buried in one of the caves in a lonely terrain
Far away from the society’s reach
All these to make sure that no treasure is lost in vain
Then the sea rogues set out into the beach
Out into the sea, for more robbery there
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie

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Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell

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The Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell

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Lorelei
You told me tales of love and glory
Same old sad songs, same old story
The sirens sing no lullaby
And no-one knows but lorelei
By castles out of fairytales
Timbers shivered where once there sailed
The lovesick men who caught her eye
And no-one knew but lorelei
River, river have mercy
Take me down to the sea
For if I perish on these rocks
My love no more Ill see
Ive thought of you in far-off places
Ive puzzled over lipstick traces
So help me god, I will not cry
And then I think of lorelei
I travel far and wander wide
No photograph of you beside me
Ol man rivers not so shy
And he remembers lorelei
River, river have mercy
Take me down to the sea
For if I perish on these rocks
My love no more Ill see
If I should float upon this stream
And see you in my madmans dream
Id sink into your troubled eyes
And none would know cept lorelei
River, river have mercy
Take me down to the sea
For if I perish on these rocks
My love no more Ill see
But if my ship, which sails tomorrow
Should crash against these rocks,
My sorrows I will drown before I die
Its you Ill see, not lorelei
song performed by by Pogues

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ship To Shore
When you pulled at the wheel with me
To steer our fragile ship of state
We nosed toward uncharted seas
But found our course within a lake.
And every where that we did turn
There loomed another barren shore,
We turned, and then did turn about
To find we'd sailed each course before.
And you would chafe at each restraint
And I would rush to catch each squall
That filled our sails a little while
Before we lay becalmed once more.
Then you would see each distant point
As bearings, where your freedom lay
And drive our ship before the storm
For day upon each battered day.
'Til we had sailed on every course
That wit or will could still devise
While biting tongue and sharp retort
Became the language of our lives.
At every turn, a shallow reef
To wreck the hopes that we had shared,
Each tack would bring us near to grief
Each luff would leave us near despair.
But then you spied some promised ground
And took the boat on that same shore
That we had left together, once
Though never to return, we swore.
The ship of state rolled drunkenly,
I could not steer, nor go ashore
And so each watched the other weep
For you would cry, and I implore.
'Til you rowed back to join the ship
But we were fast upon some reef,
And soon you turned to carp and wit
To speed you on your long retreat.
A thousand times you made that trip,
A thousand times from ship to shore
But now the tide's exposed the rip,
There's nothing left to journey for.
And you may live your life ashore
While I attend some new design,
Our ship of state once went to war -
I burned her to the waterline.
20 September 1989
poem by David Lewis Paget

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The Widow's Lullaby
She droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The sun comes up from the lea,
As he who will never come more
Came up that first day to her door,
When the ship furled her sails by the shore,
And the spring leaves were green on the tree.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The sun goes down in the sea,
As he who will never go more
Went down that last day from her door,
When the ship set her sails from the shore,
And the dead leaves were sere on the tree.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The year comes glad o'er the lea,
As he who will never come more,
Never, ah never!
Came up that first day to her door,
When the ship furled her sails by the shore,
And the spring leaves were green on the tree.
Never, ah never!
He who will come again, never!
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
The year goes sad to the sea,
As he who will never go more
For ever went down from her door,
Ever, for ever!
When the ship set her sails by the shore,
And the dead leaves were sere on the tree.
Ever, for ever!
For ever went down from her door.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
A gun, and a flash, and a gun,
The ship lies again where she lay!
High and low, low and high, in the sun,
There's a boat, a boat on the bay!
High and low, low and high, in the sun,
All as she saw it that day,
When he came who shall never come more,
And the ship furled her sails by the shore.
But she droops like a dew-dropping lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
All as she saw it that day,
With a gun, and a flash, and a gun,
The ship lies again where she lay,
And they run, and they ride, and they run,
Merry, merry, merry, down the merry highway,
To the boat, high and low in the sun.
Nearer and nearer she hears the rolling drum,
Clearer and clearer she hears the cry, 'They come,'
Far and near runs the cheer to her ear once so dear,
Merry, merry, merry, up the merry highway,
As it ran when he came that day
And said, 'Wilt thou be my dearie?
Oh, wilt thou be my dearie?
My boat is dry in the bay,
And I'll love till thou be weary!'
And she could not say him nay,
For his bonny eyes o' blue,
And never was true-love so true,
To never so kind a dearie,
As he who will never love more,
When the ship furls her sails by the shore.
Then she shakes like a wind-stricken lily,
'Whisht thee, boy, whisht thee, boy Willie!
Whisht whisht o' thy wailing, whisht thee, boy Willie!'
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell

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A Ship Sails up to Bideford
A ship sails up to Bideford;
Upon a western breeze,
Mast by mast, sail over sail,
She rises from the seas,
And sights the hills of Devon
And the misty English trees.
She comes from Eastern islands;
The sun is in her hold;
She bears the fruit of Jaffa,
Dates, oranges and gold;
She brings the silk of China,
And bales of Persian dyes,
And birds with sparkling feathers
And snakes with diamond eyes.
She’s gliding in the starlight
As white as any gull;
The east is gliding with her
In the shadows of her hull.
A ship sails up to Bideford;
Upon a western breeze,
With fruits of Eastern summers
She rises from the seas,
And sights the hills of Devon
And the misty English trees.
poem by Herbert Asquith

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Nostalgic Memories!
A crow built a nest on our tree
taking up the sticks from the broom
and laid its golden egg and sat over it often.
No loitering of rats, cats, squirrels there!
The crow would caw to call out its kin
and roust the menacing creatures away.
A fledgling hatched out, and crowed a hoarse cry.
When its chick went near the edge of the nest,
The crow would draw it in with its beak.
If the rains poured, it would cuddle its chick.
A flock of crows cried, “ caw, caw, caw, caw! ”
and urged the young one to flight off.
My Goodness! I see it again near the nest daily morn.
Nostalgic memories bring the birds too back home.
poem by Rajendran Muthiah

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High School
A traveler's blurry vision clears up as the ship gone near the port.
Mist that once engulfed us now spit us out of his territory
Expedition has ended but journey to live never.
These crews were working together in the oceans for approximately 800 days
Plus 104 days of land tours.
They'd change captains 4 times yet pirates keep coming in.
They were unafraid and fight back.
Yet they do not have torpedoes nor cannons but words.
The seas got mad for the disturbance
Wind blew hard and brought a storm
Made huge waves smashing us unto the rocks of an endless shore
Our ship was there, almost destroyed
However these crews with the help of the captain
As we never expected stood up and initiate the ship's
Recovery
Now sailing proudly exclaiming gladly with every island passed through
Yet the points were all filled with X
Every location that should be colonized were colonized
We are heading back to the origin
Every lives of this Crew family should be lived separately
The expedition is over, but we'd nowhere to go
But away to live prosperously
Yet to complete a seafarers life was to go unto the sea
So to live our life completely, indeed for thee
We go another sail with a different rail
To learn how to seek treasure upon
The burning sun and the shores with infinite sand.
poem by Ellirie Aviles

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Sea Of Dead Ships
A light from heaven flickers gently on the waves.
As a boat rocks merrily, above a sea of dead men’s graves.
Colours of the rainbows, spread fingers from the shore.
The sea is filled with beauty; it is also filled with lore.
Waves of blue, waves of green cause white waters on a rocky shore.
While the warming sun’s silvery gleam, heals any wanton sore.
Fishing boats, sails afloat, challenge the sparkling foam.
While everyman with heart lured by the sea, tries desperately not to roam.
The sea is my mistress, the sea is my light.
On a cold day’s darkness, the moon must guide me by night.
A sea full of temptation, a sea full of woe.
I set my sails a flight, to meet my friend or foe.
Dark storm clouds gather overhead, waves pound at my wooden boat.
I feel the cold salty shower, fighting wind and tide to keep afloat.
Rigging is now tangled, mast breaks leaving gnarled stump.
Oh, I curse you west wind and my broken water pump.
Water bailed with bucket, from never ending stream.
Oh, I curse the rudder, as it breaks from helm fast and clean.
I curse you mean sea, now I am cast a drift.
On my knees, I pray to heaven, for the wind to dropp and shift.
Days with no food and water, lie ahead of me.
I drift with tide and current, towards the Sargasso Sea.
A sea of weed entangled, around the entrails of dead ships.
Ships of great endurance, asleep on a green desert sit.
Brigand with barnacles galore lay wind beaten on its side.
I wonder what gauntlet, you oh dead ship did ride.
With guns blazing, from aft to fore.
Below your decks, what treasures do you store?
Ships of all shapes and sizes, the Sargasso has you trapped.
The sea of endless weed, never seen, nor ever mapped.
Into your great maw, I drift, helpless without wind.
Is this where I meet my maker?
For all that, I have sinned.
This is no stockade of refuge, no place I want to be.
In a boat without a sail, trapped in the Sargasso Sea.
Oh, let me steal from your great ships.
Wood to repair my sail, then please release me, from this land of bleached bones and windy wail.
Sea of a million raptures, that contains this floating hell.
Please, oh, please release me, from a place to which I fell.
I plead to you ole west wind, blow your saintly scorn.
Free me from this entangled weed, guide me to safe waters warm
Sky of a thousand clouds, darken as the night.
The scorn of the west wind has set my sails a flight.
My boat begins to rock, the bow dips and hails.
The west wind has answered my pleas, blown wind into my sails.
Boat held fast, by weeds tight grip.
I curse you Sargasso Sea, release my now strong boat.
Salty shower pelts my face, as from the weed my boat breaks free, from the Sargasso’s grip and dead ships of the sea.
Trade winds and currents strong, lead me from this sea of dead ships, to a refuge from the storm.
Lead me to still waters grip, so I may chart a way, back to my homeland.
That I may sail your sea, safely for another day.
Lead me back to my loved one, who keeps the fire warm.
So she will not climb widow’s wharf, or reap the widow’s mourn.
Lead me with your warm wind, each step along the way.
Lead me to her arms beckoning and warm, from which I promise I will not stray.
As for you sea of dead ships, you sail with legend and lore.
No more shall I sail with you, or break waters at your shore.
Once you had me firm within your grip, but I broke free of you,
and your sea of dead ships.
Thanks to the west wind that blew.
4 July 1978
poem by David Harris

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Nature Plays Music!
Nature plays game using sea, wind, tree, sky
Like fingers playing on the key board of piano!
Dashing waves, thudding waves, hissing waves
Are different notes of music of all Nature knows!
Oozing or howling sound is the music of storms;
Hissing sound of breeze is the music of spring
And many sounds of music produced by nature
Everybody cannot forget along with the smell sure!
Simple harmonic waves are the rhythmic beat music
Every heart and verse of poet has like the ticking time
Or the works of mind nonstop till the end of time here!
Wind passing through flute or saxophone is nice to hear
Like the vocalist produces various rhymes of music
Forming natural base for all songs we enjoy in life forever!
poem by Ramesh T A

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A Passer-by
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,
Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,
That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,
Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,
When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling,
Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest
In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.
I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest,
Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air:
I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest,
And anchor queen of the strange shipping there,
Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare:
Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp'd grandest
Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair
Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest.
And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless,
I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine
That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless,
Thy port assured in a happier land than mine.
But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine,
As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding,
From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line
In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.
poem by Robert Bridges

Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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A Passer-by
Whither, O splendid ship, thy white sails crowding,
Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West,
That fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding,
Whither away, fair rover, and what thy quest?
Ah! soon, when Winter has all our vales opprest,
When skies are cold and misty, and hail is hurling,
Wilt thoù glìde on the blue Pacific, or rest
In a summer haven asleep, thy white sails furling.
I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest,
Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air:
I watch thee enter unerringly where thou goest,
And anchor queen of the strange shipping there,
Thy sails for awnings spread, thy masts bare:
Nor is aught from the foaming reef to the snow-capp'd grandest
Peak, that is over the feathery palms, more fair
Than thou, so upright, so stately and still thou standest.
And yet, O splendid ship, unhail'd and nameless,
I know not if, aiming a fancy, I rightly divine
That thou hast a purpose joyful, a courage blameless,
Thy port assured in a happier land than mine.
But for all I have given thee, beauty enough is thine,
As thou, aslant with trim tackle and shrouding,
From the proud nostril curve of a prow's line
In the offing scatterest foam, thy white sails crowding.
poem by Robert Seymour Bridges

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Underwater
You and I,
Are here, underwater
Seconds are so dear, underwater
Searching for a light, to draw me closer
I hold my breath in tight, bring me closer
I feel your touch, will you pull me up again?
It's not so bad down here, underwater
Once you get past the fear, underwater
Since you through the haze, it's like a memory
I've been down here for days, have you seen me?
I feel your touch, will you pull me up again?
It's all the same for me, underwater
There's nothing much to see, underwater
I cannot make a sound, but I can listen
I can't tell up from down, now I'm listenin'
I feel your touch, will you pull me up again?
You're just in sight, will you save my life again?
You and I are here, underwater
song performed by by Vertical Horizon

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Broken Rhythm
A fat crow drops onto
The very tip of the top
Branch of a barren tree.
It sways with the branch
As if riding the hand
Of a metronome.
We're swept up in
The rhythm, the crow
The tree and me.
Then a hard gust
From the east
Or west and
The tree becomes a bull,
The crow a bullrider and
I'm on the edge of my seat
Waiting for something bad
To happen.
poem by Francis Santaquilani

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Lakeside
the almost absent wind ….
neglects
the mirror of the lake
muffled sounds
whisper
nearly silently
the ship appears
rending the mirror
spreading her trail
leaving behind
an unabiding track
the waves disappear
the wind vanishes
the mirror closes cracks
it would be a miracle
If I could be nearer
poem by Ellie Daphne van Stralen

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We were all on this ship in the sixties, our generation, a ship going to discover the New World. And the Beatles were in the crow's nest of that ship.
quote by John Lennon

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Last Farewell
(words & music by roger whittaker - r.a. webster)
Theres a ship lies rigged and ready in the harbor
Tomorrow for old england she sails
Far away from your land of endless sunshine
To my land full of rainy skies and gales
And I shall be aboard that ship tomorrow
Though my heart is full of tears at this farewell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
Ive heard theres a wicked war a-blazing
And the taste of war I know so very well
Even now I see the foreign flag a-raising
Their guns on fire as we sail into hell
I have no fear of death, it brings no sorrow
But how bitter will be this last farewell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
Though death and darkness gather all about me
My ship be torn apart upon the seas
I shall smell again the fragrance of these islands
And the heaving waves that brought me once to thee
And should I return home safe again to england
I shall watch the english mist roll through the dale
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
For you are beautiful, I have loved you dearly
More dearly than the spoken word can tell
song performed by by Elvis Presley

Submitted by Lucian Velea
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