Adventure Bay is a convenient and safe place for any number of ships to take in wood and water during the summer months: but in the winter, when the southerly winds are strong, the surf, on all parts of the shore, makes the landing exceedingly troublesome.
quote by William Bligh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Fisher Lass
I stood beside the Summer sea
And watched far out my Fisher Lass
Row swiftly in her boat to me,
And the sea shone like a glass.
She waved her strong, brown hand to me,
The boat flew swiftly in from sea,
The osprey laughed in wild, wild glee
To see her row so swift to me.
Laugh, laugh, sea-birds and glad, glad sea,
My soul laughs too in mad, mad glee;
I catch her in my waiting arms
And lose my fears of wrecks and storms;
I brush the sea-damp locks aside
And kiss the mouth she tries to hide.
I stand beside a Winter sea,
A storm-wrecked boat lies on the shore;
The sea moans sad an elegy,
For my lass rows in no more.
No more across the Summer sea
My Fisher Lass rows into me;
I wait each day upon the shore -
They say that she will come no more.
Moan, moan aloud, thou Winter sea,
My Fisher Lass is lost to me!
The ships ride in, the ships ride out,
I hear their sailors' mournful shout.
Some day, I know, across the sea
My Fisher Lass will row to me.
poem by James Edwin Campbell
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Summer Tastes
Summer has a taste
I guess they all do
But summer is worth mentioning
Its not just the strawberries
Or the salt of the surf
It’s the lawn
It’s the colours
Summer isn’t coy
It doesn’t have pretense
Spring lies
And autumn pretends
You cant hold the others
It makes you squint before you see it
And makes you over dressed
It swallows shadows
It makes you hold all things up to it
Then hide them from its light
It s the point that the others were leading to
Or the place they depart
It’s the drip at the side of your mouth
It colours, smells, and embraces
And looks like the smile
God would have before talking.
poem by Peet Thomas
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Through The Wood
THROUGH the wood, the green wood, the wet wood, the light wood,
Love and I went maying a thousand lives ago;
Shafts of golden sunlight had made a golden bright wood
In my heart reflected, because I loved you so.
Through the wood, the chill wood, the brown wood, the bare wood,
I alone went lonely no later than last year,
What had thinned the branches, and wrecked my dear and fair wood,
Killed the pale wild roses and left the rose-thorns sere?
Through the wood, the dead wood, the sad wood, the lone wood,
Winds of winter shiver through lichens old and grey,
You ride past forgetting the wood that was our own wood
All our own--and withered as ever a flower of May.
poem by Edith Nesbit
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Winter Gone
Winter is closed for another year
Spring has sprung upon us
Was the winter kind to you
I miss winter now its gone laying by the fire
The charcoal wood the flickering of the flames
Now the warmer days are coming
New life is born in spring
New dreams are dreamed
New beginings sad endings
The days will be longer now the cold has left the ground
For three months now we will have spring shower and sunshine
I miss you winter and all your beauty
But you will be back this i am certain
After the spring comes the summer
The scorching heat the rolls of thunder
I love the summer storms the lightning the rain
But i miss you winter and all your beauty
So goodbye my beauty for another year
I will miss you until autumn appears
Alaskan Balladry
Krinken was a little child,-
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, 'Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!'
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.
'Krinken,' said the maiden Nis,
'Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea.'
Krinken was a little child-
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him-
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.
Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,-
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,-
Summer, summer evermore,-
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.
Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His
fair face lifts from the sea,
His
dear voice calls out to me,-
These my dreams of summer be.
Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, 'Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!'
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,-
Winter, cold and dark and wild;
Krinken was a little child,-
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.
poem by Eugene Field
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The ship according to the gospel of Arsenio
A ship in the harbor is safe
But that is not the reason why ships are built
That is not what ships are
They are made to sail
To go not to stay
They are designed
To float
“Safety, security and survival
Are not the goals of our lives”
“Life is an adventure
Not maintenance”
At its end
The ship is always for
Sinking.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Steer through this ocean of emotion, which is your own creation
You are on an ocean
And on a small boat
Exclusively for you
You the lone passenger
You know what all could be there down under
The vast expanse of water
The marine life
Its varieties
Their beauties, strengths
And even their wild behaviours
You know also the
Great hidden treasure
At the bottom of the seabed
But you are always worried
About how to go about
Reaching the invisible shore
And you do not know
How far it is and in
Which direction
Rising waves raise fears in you
The unseen big marine animals down under
Occupy your thoughts
And threaten your very existence
There is shine
There is shower
There is cold
There is storm
But, you need to stick on
And to proceed till the time
You reach the shore
You are unaware of the
Nature of the shore
Where you will be landing
And in what shape
The above is the description
Of birth and death cycle
In Oriental thinking
The ocean personifies
The emotional turbulence
That occurs in you life through
Emotions are as strong as ocean
And they have the powers
To sustain livelihood
To create and to destroy as well
A check on emotions
Is the way you steer through
The ocean of life
Nurse those emotions, which are
Creative, proactive and productive
And do away with those
Which can drown you
And can be destructive
Seeking divine assistance
For safe landing on the shore
Is what these philosophies preach
Orienting yourself towards
Spirituality and self realization
Help you perform worldly duties
Without emotions
But, with passion and devotion
Steer through this
Ocean of emotion, which is
Your own creation
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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Darling Summer
Summer forgot to say 'farewell'
she is on vacation, I can tell...
winter is standing in once more
with gusty winds across the shore.
She comes and goes as is her right
Mr Sun travels with her ~ that's alright,
because tomorrow on the noonday train,
darling summer will be ours again.
Life is dark when she's not here
but a first-class ticket calms our fear
glowing warmth will comfort each bone
when darling summer comes back home.
poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Autumn (Tree)
The last leaf of summer falls
A tear of summer past.
Winter is coming, darkness calls.
Getting earlier, night arrives fast.
Insects no longer fly,
As frost starts to lie.
Coating the ground in blankets of white,
All bare the tree stands still in fright.
Through empty branches, the wind blasts,
The wood remembers summer last.
When all was green and not yellow,
When summer’s breeze kiss was mellow.
Only a few months, the tree must hold
For spring will make it bold.
With new leaves growing, new to old,
Summer arrives, arms to unfold.
poem by Ben Littlechild
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Krinken
Krinken was a little child,--
It was summer when he smiled.
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Stretched its white arms out to him,
Calling, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the child heard not the sea,
Calling, yearning evermore
For the summer on the shore.
Krinken on the beach one day
Saw a maiden Nis at play;
On the pebbly beach she played
In the summer Krinken made.
Fair, and very fair, was she,
Just a little child was he.
"Krinken," said the maiden Nis,
"Let me have a little kiss,
Just a kiss, and go with me
To the summer-lands that be
Down within the silver sea."
Krinken was a little child--
By the maiden Nis beguiled,
Hand in hand with her went he,
And 'twas summer in the sea.
And the hoary sea and grim
To its bosom folded him--
Clasped and kissed the little form,
And the ocean's heart was warm.
Now the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,--
Winter where that little child
Made sweet summer when he smiled;
Though 'tis summer on the sea
Where with maiden Nis went he,--
Summer, summer evermore,--
It is winter on the shore,
Winter, winter evermore.
Of the summer on the deep
Come sweet visions in my sleep:
His fair face lifts from the sea,
His dear voice calls out to me,--
These my dreams of summer be.
Krinken was a little child,
By the maiden Nis beguiled;
Oft the hoary sea and grim
Reached its longing arms to him,
Crying, "Sun-child, come to me;
Let me warm my heart with thee!"
But the sea calls out no more;
It is winter on the shore,--
Winter, cold and dark and wild;
Krinken was a little child,--
It was summer when he smiled;
Down he went into the sea,
And the winter bides with me.
Just a little child was he.
poem by Eugene Field
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Live In A Hiding Place
There are times that I should try,
To be so much more alive
But if time was right then I would be with you again
Or do you worry that I try to avoid the point
And then deny
The time I spent deciding it was you again
It's when I live in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
(That's not hidden now)
I'm safe in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
Think about meaning more as an after word
As in afterward
I return but don't remain,
I'm impatient for a reason
To complain about winter,
Making me see through again
Or is it your damaged reply,
That makes me realize that
The more I try
The less that plans will help me comprehend again
So I live in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I'm safe in a hiding place
(That's not hidden now)
I'm safe in a hiding place
It's the only way I feel safe
When I live in a hiding place
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
You think about meaning more as an after word
And you're full of facts
But not things that could add up to words
You think about meaning more as an after word
As in afterward
song performed by by Idlewild
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Winter skies are cold and low, with harsh winds and freezing sleet. But when we make love beneath our quilt, we make three summer months of heat.
quote by Tzu Yeh
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Winds Of Summer
WINDS OF SUMMER
Just out of the winds of summer
Came forth a being so sweet and tender.
With a smile that brought forth a stream
Flowing with pure love thus radiant.
Winds of summer blow forth forever
For the love you bring lives on forever.
Winds of summer, winds of love,
Me and my lover forever with each other.
Just out of the winds of summer
Our love grew into a hot flowing lava.
Like little angels we played and laughed at each other.
For the moment those winds of summer came
They carried us in their wings.
poem by Tigana Chileshe
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Elizabeth and Albert
Elizabeth wore black hooded gown
red rose in her hand
soft winds blowing all around
she walked the hills through Ivory and heather
to where a gravestone lay
placed the rose upon her loved ones grave
looked out across the sea as tears fell down her face.
She walked the hills everyday
days turned into months
these hills was their favourite place
‘twas where they first met, first kissed, first made love.
Cold winter months set in
single rose in her hand
she walked through windswept heather
strong winds blowing her gown
placed rose upon Albert’s grave
whispers i’ll come back tomorrow
i shall always bring you a rose
my dearest Albert my heart is yours.
As she walked down the stony pathway
through boulders covered in moss
she slipped and fell to her death
died upon rocks
her ghostly image can be seen
walking through the heather
her love for him was so strong
red rose she holds forever.
poem by Janet Whittaker
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Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer Day?
"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? "
I think you may be right,
But you would be better off to say:
"I compare thee to a winter's night! "
For she is so cold and unforgiving,
If such a fool would try
To venture forth for conquests,
Then such a fool would die.
To take on such a winter
You truly must prepare,
All summer long work hard, work strong,
Prepare your winters fare.
Gather fire-wood and bedding,
Clothes and curtains too,
Get ready for the siege of winter,
Prepare all the autumn through.
Now bolt your doors and windows,
(The time for travel now is through) ,
Light the fire and retire
And let winter come to you.
poem by Neil Milliner
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The Winter Lakes
Out in a world of death far to the northward lying,
Under the sun and the moon, under the dusk and the day;
Under the glimmer of stars and the purple of sunsets dying,
Wan and waste and white, stretch the great lakes away.
Never a bud of spring, never a laugh of summer,
Never a dream of love, never a song of bird;
But only the silence and white, the shores that grow chiller and dumber,
Wherever the ice winds sob, and the griefs of winter are heard.
Crags that are black and wet out of the grey lake looming,
Under the sunset's flush and the pallid, faint glimmer of dawn;
Shadowy, ghost-like shores, where midnight surfs are booming
Thunders of wintry woe over the spaces wan.
Lands that loom like spectres, whited regions of winter,
Wastes of desolate woods, deserts of water and shore;
A world of winter and death, within these regions who enter,
Lost to summer and life, go to return no more.
Moons that glimmer above, waters that lie white under,
Miles and miles of lake far out under the night;
Foaming crests of waves, surfs that shoreward thunder,
Shadowy shapes that flee, haunting the spaces white.
Lonely hidden bays, moon-lit, ice-rimmed, winding,
Fringed by forests and crags, haunted by shadowy shores;
Hushed from the outward strife, where the mighty surf is grinding
Death and hate on the rocks, as sandward and landward it roars.
poem by William Wilfred Campbell
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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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Treatments
Six months treatment with oil and myrrh,
Six months treatment with perfumes and cosmetics,
But wisdom is better than rubies!
The treaments of our lives is like the linen from Egypt.
Wisdom is my sister and i am with the lovers of summer,
Understandiing is my kinswoman and it is like the flowers of spring;
But my fruit is better than gold!
Like the eaters of winter and the players of summer,
Ethiopia and Seba are for a price;
But i have six months of treatments with my mind on the moon too.
Drinkers of autumn and the life on the seas,
Like a ritual bath without hope;
But before the dark black of the night,
You need six months of treatments before the flood.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Each day I see the long ships coming into port
Each day I see the long ships coming into port
and the people crowding to their rail, glad of the shore:
because to have been alone with the sea and not to have known
of anything happening in any crowded way,
and to have heard no other voice than the crooning sea's
has charmed away the old rancours, and the great winds
have search'd and swept their hearts of the old irksome thoughts:
so, to their freshen'd gaze, each land smiles a good home.
Why envy I, seeing them made gay to greet the shore?
Surely I do not foolishly desire to go
hither and thither upon the earth and grow weary
with seeing many lands and peoples and the sea:
but if I might, some day, landing I reck not where
have heart to find a welcome and perchance a rest,
I would spread the sail to any wandering wind of the air
this night, when waves are hard and rain blots out the land.
poem by Christopher John Brennan
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Summer In Paradise
Way back when well our master plan
Was havin fun fun fun as americas band
Well we came out rockin with rhonda and barbara ann
Singin of surf and sand
Now when we look back over all the fun we had
If our lifestyles over now it sure is sad
We gotta get back to livin without a care
Give me sunshine water and an ozone layer
Paradise is a state of mind
Where mother nature nurtures and man is kind
We need a change now wouldnt it be nice
If we could bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
They chop down the forests
And in their haste leave a trail of destruction
And toxic waste is leavin no one safe
In their home or their habitat
Cant let it go like that
Too much consumption and too much greed
When you consider all the people
That are livin in need
Interdependence in this world is a natural fact
And were all under attack
Its the eve of destruction or so they say
But mankind doesnt have to go that way
If we all get together we can make things right
And we can bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
Surfers recycle now dont you know
Like evryone from california to kokomo
Were gonna keep on rockin
And raisin world consciousness
We gotta fix this mess
Looked in the future and what I saw
Was a world in harmony with natural law
Theres trouble now but it will be alright if we can
Bring back summer
Get us back our summer
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
(paradise)
Summer in paradise (paradise)
Summer in paradise
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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