The Bight
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches.
Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard,
it seems to me, like pickaxes,
rarely coming up with anything to show for it,
and going off with humorous elbowings.
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and open their tails like scissors on the curves
or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.
The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in
with the obliging air of retrievers,
bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks
and decorated with bobbles of sponges.
There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock
where, glinting like little plowshares,
the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry
for the Chinese-restaurant trade.
Some of the little white boats are still piled up
against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,
and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm,
like torn-open, unanswered letters.
The bight is littered with old correspondences.
Click. Click. Goes the dredge,
and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.
All the untidy activity continues,
awful but cheerful.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
The Fisher's Widow
The boats go out and the boats come in
Under the wintry sky;
And the rain and foam are white in the wind,
And the white gulls cry.
She sees the sea when the wind is wild
Swept by a windy rain;
And her heart's a-weary of sea and land
As the long days wane.
She sees the torn sails fly in the foam,
Broad on the sky-line gray;
And the boats go out and the boats come in,
But there's one away.
poem by Arthur Symons
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Pearls Girl
Rioja. rioja. reverend al green.
Deep blue morocco. the water on stone.
The water on concrete. the water on sand.
The water on fire. smoke.
The wind. the salt. the bride boat coming.
Dave in the water. old man.
Einstein on top of his house. white deep blue
Andalusia red yellow red yellow black car.
Red light. far. black place. walls. blue chair.
Morocco. hamburg. paris.
The pieces of the puzzle are waiting.
The water of the dark boats gliding.
The bride boats gone out to sea and
Dave is floating. dave is floating.
And old man einstein crazy in his attic.
Crazy.
White room. sun room. shadow room.
Night transmitting cars across the room.
These things sent to dance across the room.
Eye watching from your bed. returning to you.
song performed by by Underworld
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Open water!
Open water, open water!
All the weary winter's yearning
Bursts in restless passion burning.
Scarce is seen the blue of ocean,
And the hours seem months in motion.
Open water, open water!
Smiles the sun on ice defiant,
Eats it like a shameless giant:
Soon as mouth of sun forsakes it,
Swift the freezing night remakes it.
Open water, open water!
Storm shall be the overcomer
Sweeping on from others' summer
Billows free all foes to swallow,-
Crash and fall and sinking follow.
Open water, open water!
Mirrored mountains are appearing,
Boats with steam and sail are nearing,
Inward come the wide world's surges,
Outward joy of combat urges.
Open water, open water!
Fiery sun and cooling shower
Quicken earth to speak with power.
Soul responds, the wonder viewing:
Strength is here for life's renewing.
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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Paper Boats
Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Burning The Boats
The government have announced
That london bridge is to be closed
Under the full moon of may the third
All the light houses and seaside roads
No I never heard I never read in the news
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Tap, tap, tap, birds that sing,
Telephone calls that do not ring,
One, two, three, whats the time ?
Whos that hanging off my line ?
I know that nothing lasts for ever
And Im just waiting for the sun to set
Blowing dust from my loud hailer, on the roof.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
The ministry of co-operation
Are washed and hanging on the line
Theres a million burning questions
To set the thames alight
Now Ive joined an exclusive club
Just by being more than poor
I saw the deputy chairman, on the floor.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Eastern Swamphen
Invertebrates and slugs and such they eat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
You know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.
Related to but larger than moorhen
And with coots, rails and crakes they too share common kin
In or near water they are known to stay
And from lake or pond they won't be far away.
Midst water reeds they build their nests of reeds and grass
No work of art just an untidy mass
And three up to five eggs the female lay
With brown spots through the lightish buff to gray.
With purple under black and red on face
And flicking tails familiar to their race
Birds when once seen you never could mistake
They roost in ponds or reedy swamp or lake.
If danger threaten to water they retreat
The water birds with big and ugly feet
And you know them by their wild and distinct cry
And their legs are always dangling as they fly.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Paumanok Picture
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,
Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers--
they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,
The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the
beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,
Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand ankle-deep
in the water, pois'd on strong legs,
The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,
Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,
the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.
poem by Walt Whitman
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I Like That Idea
i like the idea of what boats are meant for
i told you once
boats are meant to sail
far to the sea
and dissolve in the horizon
till they are gone
till they sink
to the bottom of the sea
and kiss its floor
and become the
permanent ornaments
of the corrals and sands
but i like your idea too
of boats
like mine sailing to the farthest sea
of boats like yours
that come back and embrace again
the welcoming arms
of the ports and the shores
and hear the sounds
of men and women
and children
all rejoicing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fishing boats
In the late afternoon
fishing boats come out of the waves
and like ministers
tiller men stand behind white pulpits.
Boats jump
over the last waves to the quay
and are drawn with cables
onto trailers,
before pickups and cars
drive into the parking lot
pulling motorboats.
There are red roman, snook
and cod
and fresh fish are everywhere in the boats.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Tuning Into Something Wild
Key:-
"a" - anita
"r" - ray
A: tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: you're feeling something wild now!
R: hey precious, hey burning child
Time to tune to something wild
It's new, it's hot, it's all you're not
Don't turn back, it's all we've got
You're breathless, you're out of step
Time to learn just what is hip
If you think you're in a jumble
That's the way the cookie crumbles
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
R: wilder and wilder
A; you can feel it coming!
R: well, maybe so-- we're in a mess
World gone wrong but don't forget
There's a groove that makes you wonder
How the hell they sample thunder
It's glorious, it's boom, boom, boom
Bless the noise that shakes the room
If you think we're getting milder
Brace yourself for something wilder
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: hey yeah
R: brace yourself!
Brace yourself!
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
You're feeling something wild now!
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sea Of Joy
By steve winwood
Following the shadows of the skies,
Or are they only figments of my eyes?
And Im feeling close to when the race is run.
Waiting in our boats to set sail.
Sea of joy.
Once the door swings open into space,
And Im already waiting in disguise.
Is it just a thorn between my eyes?
Waiting in our boats to set sail.
Sea of joy.
Having trouble coming through,
Through this concrete blocks my view
And its all because of you.
Oh, is it just a thorn between my eyes?
Waiting in our boats to set sail.
Sea of joy.
Sea of joy.
Sea of joy.
Sailing free.
Sea of joy.
song performed by by Eric Clapton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Houtbay beach
A young girl and an old man
walk down steps
to the stretch
that the beach at Houtbay
throws against the sea.
There are some small fishing boats
in colours of blue,
orange and white
that sails into the sea,
but big white cabin cruisers
bobs up and down
next to the quay
some distance away
as if they are ownerless
while their bosses
play somewhere else.
The smell of sea-pike
roasting on coals
lies on the light wind
and their stomachs growl
of sudden hunger
and here and there
the girl stoops
to pick up shells.
His sturdy boots leaves flat tracts
on the firm sand
and there’s a brown wood walking stick
with a lion head in his hand
and the girl’s
bare foot tracts
run in advance.
The sea swishes in and out
and the wet sand
reflects a bright open day
and the blue water
stretches out
as far as you can see
and it’s as if he gets new power
next to the foaming water.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Shot (intro)
phones ringing babies crying]
white guy: Hi how ya doin' ?
nurse: Doctor's office could you hold please? Yes sir can I help you?
white guy: Yes I have a four o'clock appointment I'm here to get my shot.
nurse: Okay come right with me.
white guy: This isn't gonna take too long is it?
nurse: Here we are here have a seat right here.
white guy: Oh great thanks thanks.
nurse: The doctor will be right with you, and can I get you anything?
white guy: Uhh maybe a glass of water would be great.
nurse: Okay great.
[door shuts]
white guy: Damn, what is taking so long?
[door creaks open, funky music in the backround]
doctor Ice Cube: Yo wussup?
white guy: Hi how ya doin' ?
doctor Ice Cube: Alright, let's see what we got here uhh, Mr. White huh?
white guy: Yes sir that's me.
doctor Ice Cube: heh, I heard you don't like shots do ya?
white guy: No I sure don't.
doctor Ice Cube: Aww you're a big boy uhh this won't hurt a bit,
jus' uhh turn your head...
white guy: Let's get this over with.
doctor Ice Cube: yeah uhh, rub a little alcohol on there, right here,
for you, and uhh brace yourself!
[click]
[BANG
song performed by by Ice Cube
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Katrina: The Shrimpers Tried Their Best
Twilight sprinkles mist over October waves...
Ribbing docks, straining through nets...
Into sunset boats waiting for tides...
Wishes of months vanishing in weeks...
When brown water seethes, barren
As ash...no one knows, as ropes loosen
Again...
The night harvest will be dreams in waking
Sunrises...nets empty, dripping water...
Bridges open, shut, open once more...
It is only October. Cold. Seagulls keep
Boats company by sunset again...
Flying, sweeping, well fed...
On their own, soaring down on unwary
Fish, too-slow crabs...empty shadows
Shred into webs of too-soon
Family Holidays...yet,
Children always laugh, after little fingers
And eyes forget the presents
Still in stores.
poem by Elysabeth Faslund
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The White Birds
I WOULD that we were, my beloved, white birds on the foam of the sea!
We tire of the flame of the meteor, before it can fade and flee;
And the flame of the blue star of twilight, hung low on the rim of the sky,
Has awaked in our hearts, my beloved, a sadness that may not die.
A weariness comes from those dreamers, dew-dabbled, the lily and rose;
Ah, dream not of them, my beloved, the flame of the meteor that goes,
Or the flame of the blue star that lingers hung low in the fall of the dew:
For I would we were changed to white birds on the wandering foam: I and you!
I am haunted by numberless islands, and many a Danaan shore,
Where Time would surely forget us, and Sorrow come near us no more;
Soon far from the rose and the lily and fret of the flames would we be,
Were we only white birds, my beloved, buoyed out on the foam of the sea!
poem by William Butler Yeats
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Top Hat, White Tie And Tails
I just got an invitation through the mails:
"Your presence requested this evening, it's formal
A top hat, a white tie and tails"
Nothing now could take the wind out of my sails
Because I'm invited to step out this evening
With top hat, white tie and tails
I'm puttin' on my top hat
Tyin' up my white tie
Brushin' off my tails
I'm dudein' up my shirt front
Puttin' in the shirt studs
Polishin' my nails
I'm steppin' out, my dear
To breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class
And I trust that you'll excuse my dust when I step on the gas
For I'll be there
Puttin' down my top hat
Mussin' up my white tie
Dancin' in my tails
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Top Hat, White Tie And Tails
I just got an invitation through the mails:
"Your presence requested this evening, it's formal
A top hat, a white tie and tails"
Nothing now could take the wind out of my sails
Because I'm invited to step out this evening
With top hat, white tie and tails
I'm puttin' on my top hat
Tyin' up my white tie
Brushin' off my tails
I'm dudein' up my shirt front
Puttin' in the shirt studs
Polishin' my nails
I'm steppin' out, my dear
To breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class
And I trust that you'll excuse my dust when I step on the gas
For I'll be there
Puttin' down my top hat
Mussin' up my white tie
Dancin' in my tails
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Top Hat, White Tie, & Tails
I just got an invitation through the mails:
Your presence requested this evening, its formal
A top hat, a white tie and tails
Nothing now could take the wind out of my sails
Because Im invited to step out this evening
With top hat, white tie and tails
Im puttin on my top hat
Tyin up my white tie
Brushin off my tails
Im dudein up my shirt front
Puttin in the shirt studs
Polishin my nails
Im steppin out, my dear
To breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class
And I trust that youll excuse my dust when I step on the gas
For Ill be there
Puttin down my top hat
Mussin up my white tie
Dancin in my tails
song performed by by Ella Fitzgerald
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Top Hat, White Tie, & Tails
I just got an invitation through the mails:
Your presence requested this evening, its formal
A top hat, a white tie and tails
Nothing now could take the wind out of my sails
Because Im invited to step out this evening
With top hat, white tie and tails
Im puttin on my top hat
Tyin up my white tie
Brushin off my tails
Im dudein up my shirt front
Puttin in the shirt studs
Polishin my nails
Im steppin out, my dear
To breathe an atmosphere that simply reeks with class
And I trust that youll excuse my dust when I step on the gas
For Ill be there
Puttin down my top hat
Mussin up my white tie
Dancin in my tails
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Turning Into Something Wild
Key:-
A - anita
R - ray
A: tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: youre feeling something wild now!
R: hey precious, hey burning child
Time to tune to something wild
Its new, its hot, its all youre not
Dont turn back, its all weve got
Youre breathless, youre out of step
Time to learn just what is hip
If you think youre in a jumble
Thats the way the cookie crumbles
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
R: wilder and wilder
A; you can feel it coming!
R: well, maybe so-- were in a mess
World gone wrong but dont forget
Theres a groove that makes you wonder
How the hell they sample thunder
Its glorious, its boom, boom, boom
Bless the noise that shakes the room
If you think were getting milder
Brace yourself for something wilder
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: hey yeah
R: brace yourself!
Brace yourself!
A: tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
Tuning into something wild
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
A: like a comet from space
Like a slap in the face
You can feel it coming
Like a push in the back
Turning white into black
Youre feeling something wild now!
song performed by by 2 Unlimited
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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