His Boat
This boat you see, friends, will tell you
that she was the fastest of craft,
not to be challenged for speed
by any vessel afloat, whether
driven by sail or the labour of oars.
The threatening Adriatic coast won’t deny it,
nor the isles of the Cyclades,
nor noble Rhodes, nor fearful Bosphorus,
nor the grim bay of the Black Sea
where, before becoming a boat, she was
leafy wood: for on the heights of Cytorus
she often hissed to the whispering leaves.
The boat says these things were well known to you,
and are, Amastris and box-wood clad Cytorus:
she says from the very beginning she stood
on your slope, that she dipped her oars
in your water, and carried her owner from there
over so many headstrong breakers,
whether the wind cried from starboard
or larboard, or whether Jupiter struck at the sheets
on one side and the other, together:
and no prayers to the gods of the shore were offered
for her, when she came from a foreign sea
here, as far as this limpid lake.
But that’s past: now hidden away here
she ages quietly and offers herself to you,
Castor and his brother, heavenly Twins.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Sinking
Youre on a wide open ocean
No one around you for miles
Your thinkin of drinkin on water
While youre sailing the nile
No one to stop you on your way
Flyin by goes a stork
You decide to bring your oars in now
But accidently knock out the cork
Row your boat to shore
cause it is leaking and youre still drinking
Unless you cork the hole
You wont be sailing, youll be sinking
Not knowin your sinkin
You take out a bottle of rum
Swiggin a drink to the bottom
The bottle reads van monchinghum
Oars back into the water
You think youll sail on
But you cant cause your boat contains
Three and a half gallons
Chorus:
Row, row, row your boat
Sail your ship to shore
Youre barely, barely, barely keeping afloat
I hope that you wont drink no more
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Sea-Saw (more writing fun)
If I saw a wood boat afloat
Upon the sea,
Would what I see possibly be
The wood I cut from a tree?
For when I saw a tree
I would like to think I see,
What the wood I saw
Could be.
If all I saw in wood from a tree
Was all I saw that there was to see,
Would what I did saw
Be the wood that I now see?
And if the wood I once did saw
Was indeed made into that ship on the sea,
Would it even be possible to know that here what I see
Is the wood once sawed by me?
All I here would dare to share is:
I see what I saw, and I saw what I see,
And therefore the wood I do saw could one day be
The boat I may see, afloat upon the sea.
See?
poem by Smoky Hoss
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Boat-ride, Surreal
there, there...down there
through a thicket of fog
beckoned a vacant boat
i fought through the fog
and reached a zone, misty
the boat pulled me as if
i were a piece of iron
i hastened through
the layers and layers...
there i was, at last
assured that it would
take me to the other bank
it wasn't to be
the gently rocking boat
began on an erratic sail
down down the stream
in its womb of deception
hid many a whirlpool
the waters jerky...
hey, what was i doing
sitting in a boat with no oars
nor knowing how to swim...!
'you're the boatman
you're the oars...
row row...
the other bank
a distant dream
row row...'
a song filled the stream...
18dec2009
0540hra
poem by Indira Babbellapati
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Friend-Ship
My friendship is sinking,
I'm bailing out water as fast as I can,
Move too quickly the boat will tip over,
Move too slowly the faster it will sink,
Seconds away from abandoning ship,
But there's land in sight,
So close to shore,
Tying a rope to the boat,
Jumping into the water,
The water is so cold,
Pulling the boat to shore,
Moving too slowly,
Waves threatening to take the boat away,
Waves threatening to take me away,
Suddenly the shore seems so far away,
Waves fill the boat with water,
The burden of the weight of the water,
Becomes unbearable,
The rope is pulled out of my hands,
And the boat sinks,
Pulling me under,
I swim to the surface,
Swim to shore,
Once on shore I look back,
There is nothing left of the Friend-ship
poem by Mandy Author2
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Yacht
STRANGER, the bark you see before you says
That in old times and in her early days
She was a lively vessel that could make
The quickest voyages, and overtake
All her competitors with sail or oar;
And she defies the rude Illyrian shore,
And Rhodes with her proud harbor, and the seas
That intersect the scattered Cyclades,
And the Propontic and the Thracian coast,
(Bold as it is) to contradict her boast.
She calls to witness the dark Euxine sea
And mountains that had known her as a tree,
Before her transformation, when she stood
A native of the deep Cytorian wood,
Where all her ancestors had flourished long,
And, with their old traditionary song,
Had whispered her responses to the breeze.
And waked the chorus of her sister trees.
Amastris, from your haven forth she went,
You witnessed her first outset and descent,
Adventuring on an unknown element.
From thence she bore her master safe and free
From danger and alarm through many a sea;
Nor ever once was known to lag behind,
Foremost on every tack, with every wind.
At last, to this fair inland lake, she says
She came to pass the remnant of her days,
Leaving no debt due to the Deities
For vows preferred in danger on the seas:
Clear of incumbrance, therefore, and all other
Contentious claims, to Castor or his brother
As a free gift and offering she devotes
Herself, as long as she survives and floats.
poem by Gaius Valerius Catullus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Boat To Sail
Youre up state, up late, and city fed
Im a california label
From the top of my head,
Forever, ah
See a lot of open sky
When the sun goes down
Theres a hot, lot of loving when you come
Around, to free me, ah
In a boat to sail, boat to sail, away, ah
All those letters mailed from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
Bare foot, coconut and supermild
Jamaica take a look
At your own child
Forget not
Brian wilson songs are never left behind
Dont you worry baby, youre a friend of mine
For so long
From a boat to sail, boat to sail, away ah
All those letters mailed, from a
Boat to sail, away ah
We are riding in a boat to sail
We are riding in a boat to sail
song performed by by Carpenters
Submitted by Lucian Velea
Vote! | Copy!
Calming the Storm (Bible Poems for Children)
Jesus told his disciples, come with
me,
By boat, we'll sail across the sea.
He slept on a cushion, in the stern,
The salty water, made his eyes burn.
As he slept, a storm began,
Sweeping, could not see the land.
It threatened to swamp the boat.
Very hard to keep it afloat.
The wind was blowing it all around,
Capturing the boat with an awful
sound.
The disciples afraid, the boat would
sink,
Screamed Save us, save us, do you
think.
Jesus stood up, and softly spoke,
The storm obeyed, The storm was
broke.
The disciples marveled, who was he,
That could control, the wind and sea.
poem by Heather Burns
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Hayeswater
A region desolate and wild.
Black, chafing water: and afloat,
And lonely as a truant child
In a waste wood, a single boat:
No mast, no sails are set thereon;
It moves, but never moveth on:
And welters like a human thing
Amid the wild waves weltering.
Behind, a buried vale doth sleep,
Far down the torrent cleaves its way:
In front the dumb rock rises steep,
A fretted wall of blue and grey;
Of shooting cliff and crumbled stone
With many a wild weed overgrown:
All else, black water: and afloat,
One rood from shore, that single boat.
poem by Matthew Arnold
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Vic 1
THE boat is ready
you hold the paddle
and you step on it
and take the ride
there is this peace
that the pond offers
there is this solitude
of the heart
that speaks the silence
of the water
the boat wades with
you
then you let everything
float away
beside the river bank
a tree grows
with lush leaves
you lay your head
on the side of the boat
you close your eyes
and then dream
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Build Me A Boat
build me a boat
do not paint it
let it just be the most natural
color of wood
the glow of mahogany
build me this boat
and i shall sail on it one night
when the sea is so calm
i shall put nothing in there
not a paddle
or a rudder
build me this boat that will take me
to my own world
away from you
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Speedboat Ride
Eastwards, along the Thames, we leisurely cruise,
Taking in, all around us, some magnificent views.
We are given a live commentary, by our Guide,
As, past many places of interest, we now ride.
By the time, the speedboat reaches Canary Wharf,
There is far less river traffic, going to and forth.
Very suddenly, our boat picks up great speed;
To hold on tightly, there now is a great need.
As our boat zooms about, here and there,
The cold, wild wind whips through our hair.
The experience is just so totally exhilarating,
And, most definitely, well worth the waiting.
As the speedboat, merrily twists and turns,
The river water, below us, restlessly churns.
The boat zigzags about, rocking side to side;
In our seats, our bottoms can’t help but slide.
Over newly created waves, our boat now hops;
For a second, we’re flying, before we then drop.
We’re bumped about: just like at a fairground,
But, all too soon, our boat is homeward bound.
Our experience has really been just so thrilling;
To repeat it all, we are both more than willing.
A while later, we’re stood back upon dry land,
With another speedboat trip already planned.
poem by Angela Wybrow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Lake
Water lilies load all over
The blue lake amid the woods,
That imparts, while in white circles
Startling, to a boat its moods.
And along the strands I‘m passing
Listening, waiting, in unrest,
That she from the reeds may issue
And fall, gently, on my breast;
That we may jump in the little
Boat, while water‘s voices whelm
All our feelings; that enchanted
I may drop my oars and helm;
That all charmed we may be floating
While moon‘s kindly light surrounds
Us, winds cause the reeds to rustle
And the waving water sounds.
But she does not come; abandoned,
Vainly I endure and sigh
Lonely, as the water lilies
On the blue lake ever lie.
poem by Mihai Eminescu from Poems (Poesii) (September 1876), translated by Dimitrie Cuclin
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
Vote! | Copy! | In Spanish | In Italian | In Romanian
A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Keep A Rhythm
Push out the boat and let us row downriver,
Under bridges and around each curving bend.
Dipping the oars as cleanly as we’re able,
And pulling strongly, to reach our journey’s end.
The currents are quite powerful as we travel,
And concentration has to be intense,
But we will keep a rhythm in the doing,
And on completion, thrills will be immense.
Push out the boat and let us row upriver,
Gliding through the water like a dream.
Such a sight, is this vessel when in motion,
As we together, make our way upstream.
In control, there can be nothing nicer,
Great fulfilment with each stroke that’s plied.
A Sunday afternoon of such sheer pleasure,
When skimming o’er the water, starry-eyed.
poem by Ernestine Northover
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Happiness
My sailing boat, crafted of redwood, is swift,
My flute is carved out of jasper.
With water a stain is removed from the silk,
With wine – the worries and heartache.
And if you’re the owner of swift little boat,
The wine and a beautiful woman…
What else can you ask for? In every respect,
To heavenly gods you are equal.
poem by Nikolai Stepanovich Gumilev
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Isles Of Sleep.
The opiate isles upon time's sea
In the dream-dark
Rise with their harbours silently
Before each day-abandoned bark,
And the worn mariner anchors there
Till thought, new-waked in the dewy air,
Sings like a lark.
The silent isles with their dream-shores
On the waves float,
Whereto the faint-eyed mariner oars
Within the dusk his eerie boat;
All care put by, like one who knows
No tide there turns and no wind blows,
Near or remote!
From day to day upon time's main
We sail on so,
Sure every night some port to gain
In the dream-dark where no winds blow;
Until we too this sea have cross'd
E'en like the galleons that were tost
Here long ago.
Some seem each day to sail so far,
They reach that shore
So very soon where all things are
As they will be for evermore;
Some for so many a night and day
Have to drift on their lonely way
Ere all is o'er.
But all sails touch the land at last:
The slowest come
As in a mist out of the past —
The last dream-isle fades on the foam,
The last stars rise, the last stars set,
And there is but the last day yet
'Tween them and home.
poem by Robert Crawford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
the Fisherman
THE FISHERMAN
All his life in his sun-burnt boat he is out there
on the sea,
To eke out an honest living with his catches at
sea!
The sea is his second home, where his soul
breathes free!
The sea remain placid, the sea remain calm,
Rocking his boat gently like a mother patting
her son!
But when the sea raves and foams in the mouth,
The fisherman calmly surveys the distant storm
clouds!
He silently sets sail towards the safe shore;
Though at times he boldly tries to ignore!
And should his boat overturn and capsize below,
His mother will keep him afloat - as he swims
to the shore!
-Raj Nandy
27 Mar 09
The Golden Boat
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
The sheaves lie gathered, harvest has ended,
The river is swollen and fierce in its flow.
As we cut the paddy it started to rain.
One small paddy-field, no one but me -
Flood-waters twisting and swirling everywhere.
Trees on the far bank; smear shadows like ink
On a village painted on deep morning grey.
On this side a paddy-field, no one but me.
Who is this, steering close to the shore
Singing? I feel that she is someone I know.
The sails are filled wide, she gazes ahead,
Waves break helplessly against the boat each side.
I watch and feel I have seen her face before.
Oh to what foreign land do you sail?
Come to the bank and moor your boat for a while.
Go where you want to, give where you care to,
But come to the bank a moment, show your smile -
Take away my golden paddy when you sail.
Take it, take as much as you can load.
Is there more? No, none, I have put it aboard.
My intense labour here by the river -
I have parted with it all, layer upon layer;
Now take me as well, be kind, take me aboard.
No room, no room, the boat is too small.
Loaded with my gold paddy, the boat is full.
Across the rain-sky clouds heave to and fro,
On the bare river-bank, I remain alone -
What had has gone: the golden boat took all.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
A Paper-boat just on the Sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be!
The sea of life is too stormy;
Afraid I am, it could sink me,
Before I can reach land’s safety!
But if He wants, the Almighty,
Could work miracles still for me;
And guide the boat to shore safely,
And keep me dry eternally!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
How can it float for long freely?
And when the sea becomes angry,
Can it escape its cruelty?
But all the same, I move slowly;
Nothing on earth can deter me;
Unless something so cowardly,
Drenches the boat mercilessly.
A paper-boat just on the sea!
I know I must make it surely;
And when I reach the shore, may be,
I will feel immensely happy!
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Who else would want to be like me?
God is my guide and my safety;
In Him, I have strong faith truly!
A paper-boat just on the sea!
A paper-boat, I tend to be;
A paper-boat, I want to be-
A paper-boat just on life’s sea!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-26-2000
poem by John Celes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!