The nude swim
At night the light shines
with a tender yellowness
through the blue pool
as if encased
in a world of its own.
The water is soothing
after a hot summer day
heaving up and down
where I lie drifting
and I see your slender shadow
in the bright moonlight
coming closer.
You body is white
and stripped of clothing
and in your face
your eyes gleam big
like those of the ginger cat
and for a moment
like a statue you stand
on the diving board
with arms reaching
to the stars.
Sculptured to perfection
with firm large breast thrusting
up in to the air,
long pale legs
and in a graceful motion
you launch yourself
and with a tiny ripple
clip through the water.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Drowning Ophelia
The water seeps up, up
(lapping, licking, soothing)
twisting around the parts of
your body that you have
come to know and hate
because this is the body
that the world abandoned
The water is soothing
the water is deep
lay down your heavy head
close yours eyes and sleep
(thick, dreaming, dark)
sweet, bright little lamb
so alone, so lost in Hell
The water circles your neck
clothing you in elegant dress
your mouth was once dust
your body made of bugs
now water floods your lungs
(silk against burlap)
you feel clean and pure and done
This is how you drown
legs twisted and still
hands thrust out into the chill
letting the water, clean and cold
(sweet, inky, dark, deep)
take your tired, finished mind
and dance it down to sleep
poem by Elizabeth Rebel
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Swimming Pool
The crystal water looked marvelously blue,
shining like a glowworm in the infectious moonlight,
filled in a hexagon tank lined with pure sandstone,
with,
stainless metal slides converging down from amazing
heights,
long strips of diving board for a headlong plunge,
crisscrossed threads of netlon bifurcating it into
equal halves,
large injections of disinfectant added at fixed
intervals of time,
cozy changing rooms stacked with luxury towel,
mega perfume canisters for swimming in ecstasy,
inflated circular rings of rubber for wading through
the deep,
an ambience of pine tree and sprawling lawn proved
more than conducive,
the swimming pool was a treat to the eye in blistering
heat of the summer
month.
i couldn't resist any further,
waves of exhilaration dismantled sensible imagery,
as i clambered short rungs of the steep ladder,
gave a shrill scream, relishing thoroughly the icy
waters,
after plummeting 50 feet down from,
the ergonomically sculptured diving board.
poem by Nikhil Parekh
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Clear, With Light, Variable Winds
The fountain bent and straightened itself
In the night wind,
Blowing like a flower.
It gleamed and glittered,
A tall white lily,
Under the eye of the golden moon.
From a stone seat,
Beneath a blossoming lime,
The man watched it.
And the spray pattered
On the dim grass at his feet.
The fountain tossed its water,
Up and up, like silver marbles.
Is that an arm he sees?
And for one moment
Does he catch the moving curve
Of a thigh?
The fountain gurgled and splashed,
And the man's face was wet.
Is it singing that he hears?
A song of playing at ball?
The moonlight shines on the straight column of water,
And through it he sees a woman,
Tossing the water-balls.
Her breasts point outwards,
And the nipples are like buds of peonies.
Her flanks ripple as she plays,
And the water is not more undulating
Than the lines of her body.
'Come,' she sings, 'Poet!
Am I not more worth than your day ladies,
Covered with awkward stuffs,
Unreal, unbeautiful?
What do you fear in taking me?
Is not the night for poets?
I am your dream,
Recurrent as water,
Gemmed with the moon!'
She steps to the edge of the pool
And the water runs, rustling, down her sides.
She stretches out her arms,
And the fountain streams behind her
Like an opened veil.
* * * * *
In the morning the gardeners came to their work.
'There is something in the fountain,' said one.
They shuddered as they laid their dead master
On the grass.
'I will close his eyes,' said the head gardener,
'It is uncanny to see a dead man staring at the sun.'
poem by Amy Lowell
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A Shower
Water flowing down his black-haired head like the Greeks'
Streaming past his dark eyebrows and his deep eyes
Down his sharp nose and past his smooth cheeks
Dripping down his lush lips, past the mouth's rise
Water flowing down his strong jaws and steady chin
Streaming past his thick neck into the collar bones it trips
Down his biceps and sculptured arms that cause a din
Dripping down his hands and delicate fingertips
Water flowing down his broad shoulders
Streaming past his chest and slender warm back
Down his muscled stomach and thighs, hard as boulders
Dripping down his knees to his calves, which can bare a whack
Water flowing down his ankles to his firm feet
Creating a pool of pure liquid on the ground
Down his hard body, the water so sweet
The liquid dripping around him, so profound!
poem by Monalno Kim
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There Is A Swimming Pool In A Small Town (Orléans Rondel Prime)
There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky,
where some bikini clad girls draw the eye,
with skin tanned to mahogany brown,
where from a diving board people dive down,
where time gets wings and quickly rushes by.
There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky,
where a myriad of beautiful girls daily lie,
where the garden is somewhat overgrown
and children buy sweets, chips and pie,
while teens frolic until the sun does die.
There is a swimming pool in a small town
where water sparkles as blue as the sky.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Siren's Cry
Thy silent maiden floats at sea,
Long golden hair flowing around her bod,
Nothing in her mind but a tale of love and woe,
As her tears fall to be lost in the sea,
Never to be seen again, but by those who whisper to she,
Whisper of a light so bright, that you cannot see the world,
The world that engulfs thy in horror of unreal wonders,
As water laps at thy feet, reaching, reaching for thy soul,
Crying the sirens cry to lure thee to her breast,
Her breast where thy silent maiden lay awaiting her lover’s hand,
Waiting for her tears to be dried with thy finger of love,
And still thy stand overcome by thy light of selfishness and want,
And still thy silent maiden lies out at sea,
Silver tears flowing from her closed eyes,
Arms out brushing backs of dolphins and whales,
Hair dancing in the waves,
As she sings her sirens song, pushing, pushing the water,
The waster that laps at thy feet, reaching, reaching for thy soul,
Water made of the sirens cry,
Luring thy to her breast, where thy silent maiden lay awaiting,
Awaiting her lovers hand to wipe away her tears,
And like so many before that have given their heart to her,
And that have become the foam that lines the sea,
Like those before,
Thou shall fall to the sirens cry.
By: Bethany Maxwell
September 18,2009
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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From A Diving Board
you climb this certain height
towards the place
where the diving board is situated
you look down
and the pool looks like a square
the people watching you somehow
looking like ants looking at you
and then you stand still
look to the sky
and take a deep breath
you make the last pose
and then jump overboard
there is that feeling of falling
as you stretch your legs
and hold your hips with your hands
you tumble down in the circles
that you are making
and then you stretch your arms and hands
like you are a long pole
and touch the still water at last
you make the splash
and tell yourself in such a short event
this must be death
you plunge down
not touching the depth of the floor
you rise up again
and touch and rub your eyes
you see them and now you realize
this must be life
you tell yourself again
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At the blue pool
Just past Mayville
is the place,
where we find coolness.
The pool lies square
like the place in Bethesda,
that brings comfort and healing
and there are children
diving in jolly and jumping in splashing.
The sun is white hot
in the heaven
and there are big green trees,
which at places
gives dark cool shades.
I look at the water lying
open, cold and sparkling blue
stretched out,
almost like a small lake
or the wave less sea
of Galilee
and when you dive in an arch
and the water folds
tender round you.
I go in more sensible
to keep water out of my ears
and there are men making bombs,
children baptising each other
and some clinging to their parents,
girls falling in love,
women floating
in the arms of their husbands
and you are circling that like an acrobat,
scouting the blue.
poem by Gert Strydom
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At a koi pond in a nursery
When her fingers
lightly ripple the water,
a row of fishes
dart to come to investigate.
Fins cut through the water
and big eyes,
come to look
near to the surface.
Big and small bright coloured koi’s
dash past through the water,
while dark fresh water crayfish
crawl on the bottom of the pond.
The ripple on the water
rings out wider and wider,
till where it disappears in to eternity.
.
In my hart the sound
of the beautiful day resounds,
while I stand fascinated
at the fish pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Beautiful Passion
i watch beauty take a walk one morning
by the sea as she undresses herself and begins
to carry her body to the calm waters
where she plunges herself
and in a moment she rises combing
her wet hair with her soft fingers
as she closes her eyes and
raises her head to the glorious light of the sun
she gets out of the water her breasts
in slow motion protruding to the direction
of her firm nipples as drops of water drip
down her tall and white body of
this woman who says she loves me too.
i am awed and speechless and i thank God
for this beautiful passion
his greatest creation that now i can touch and feel
and live with for all the days of my life.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Musician's Tale; The Saga of King Olaf VIII. -- Gudrun
On King Olaf's bridal night
Shines the moon with tender light,
And across the chamber streams
Its tide of dreams.
At the fatal midnight hour,
When all evil things have power,
In the glimmer of the moon
Stands Gudrun.
Close against her heaving breast
Something in her hand is pressed;
Like an icicle, its sheen
Is cold and keen.
On the cairn are fixed her eyes
Where her murdered father lies,
And a voice remote and drear
She seems to hear.
What a bridal night is this!
Cold will be the dagger's kiss;
Laden with the chill of death
Is its breath.
Like the drifting snow she sweeps
To the couch where Olaf sleeps;
Suddenly he wakes and stirs,
His eyes meet hers.
'What is that,' King Olaf said,
'Gleams so bright above my head?
Wherefore standest thou so white
In pale moonlight?'
''T is the bodkin that I wear
When at night I bind my hair;
It woke me falling on the floor;
'T is nothing more.'
'Forests have ears, and fields have eyes;
Often treachery lurking lies
Underneath the fairest hair!
Gudrun beware!'
Ere the earliest peep of morn
Blew King Olaf's bugle-horn;
And forever sundered ride
Bridegroom and bride!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Stars On The Water
By: rodney crowell
1981
Down in louisiana, bayous by and by
Pirogue pole or your natural soul
Keeps you tied to a tree high tide
Beer joint lights come on
And then the crowd starts rollin in
Chorus:
Pretty soon you got stars on the water
You got stars on the water
Its like stars on the water, let it rain
Beaumont to biloxi
Sea breeze at your door
Gypsy rains, dang hurricanes
White silver sandy shore
Blue light lounge is shinin
Way out on the view
Chorus:
It looks just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water, let it rain
(guitar instrumental)
When its midnight down in mobile
Moonbeams on the bay
They come from miles around to dance the jukebox down
And dig the good time sounds they play
All across the harbour
Night lights shinin in
Chorus:
It looks just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water, let it rain
Chorus:
Pretty soon ya got stars on the water
You got stars on the water
Its like stars on the water, let it rain
- notes:
Background vocals: timothy b. schmit
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Coming In To Harbour
Well I dreamed I saw you sailing in upon a sleek white schooner
You were slipping over shallow water
You were coming into harbour, you were coming into harbour
With the wind in all your sails
You were carrying a cargo that was richer than riches
More gold than gold and much more real than real
New born babe in your arms and his cool blue eyes gazed up
Yes his cool eyes gazed upon a fresh world, one yet to be made
I was standing on the shoreline looking out over the sea
And I saw your white sail appearing on the horizon
I was standing on the shoreline just looking out over the sea
And I saw your white sail appearing on the horizon
You were coming into harbour, you were coming into harbour
In the bright light, the bright light, longer than the 20th century
song performed by by Waterboys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Water
water for water is water, thirst made me dried
eyes tears flow water, leaves skin broken
need water, cure my pain smooth my rough
surface makes it clean
pure and perfect water made so bright, all the
day expose heat dried my sweat, in my face
and lips tears seen in the eyes
all day long I seat in my brow, waiting the sun
down to lead me low, hunger and thirst open
my throat, water spelled drops like a dew
wash my warm body as you can see, the limps
legs and the hands would be easy, where ever
in my body, the water comes refreshing to me
slowly, slowly, fell the cool water beneath
my delicate skin, in my buttock where you have
to stay, hold on, I sit you in my dream, my living
water makes me the same
oh! water, please always watered me in each
new day and fell the real me
poem by Antonio Liao
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Stars On The Water
(Rodney Crowell)
Down in Louisiana bayous by and by
A peirot pole or your natural soul
Keeps you tied to a tree high tide
Beer joint lights come on
And then crowd starts rollin' in
Pretty soon you got stars on the water
You got stars on the water
You got stars on the water
When it rains
Beaumont to Biloxi sea breeze at your door
Gypsy rains dang hurricanes
White silver sandy shores
Blue light lounge is shinin'
Why out on the pier
Makes it look just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
When it rains
When it's midnight down in Mobile
Shining moon beams on the bay
They come from miles around
To dance the jukebox down
Th hear the good time sounds they play
And all across the harbor night life shinin' on
Makes you feel just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
Just like stars on the water
When it rains
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fish And Shadow
The salmon-trout drifts in the stream,
The soul of the salmon-trout floats over the stream
Like a little wafer of light.
The salmon moves in the sun-shot, bright shallow sea. . . .
As light as the shadow of the fish
that falls through the water,
She came into the large room by the stair,
Yawning a little she came with the sleep still upon her.
'I am just from bed. The sleep is still in my eyes.
'Come. I have had a long dream.'
And I: That wood?
'And two springs have passed us.'
'Not so far, no, not so far now,
There is a place but no one else knows it
A field in a valley . . .
Qu'ieu sui avinen,
Ieu lo sai,'
She must speak of the time
Of Arnaut de Mareuil, I thought, 'qu'ieu sui avinen.’
Light as the shadow of the fish
That falls through the pale green water.
poem by Ezra Pound
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Gentle Creature
Gentle creature of the seas swimming happy, swimming free
dives into the sea with grace surfaces to show it's gentle face
Why are people so cruel to gentle creatures like you
You should be left to swim in peace
Graceful through the water you swim diving out and diving in
Oblivious to the world around across the water you leap and bound
Hours of fun you do provide playing, chasing then you hide
To the surface again you rise
How sad it would be if you were no more
If we could not stand upon the shore and watch you're playful
antics forever more
poem by Jenni Burt
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A flower for the night [2]
In the garden we sat watching the stars,
talking softly, intimately while she smoked
and the cigarette glowed red
with her perfume and its flavour
mixing on the evening air
and around us there were flowers
opening everywhere
and some had large cups, others hanged
with petals in strings
in different hues from white, pink,
red to crimson, violet and blue.
There is a flower (whose name I know)
who showed me the most beautiful petals
and bloomed one night
in a bed besides me
in sheer nudity
with perfection in ever aspect of her body
while the full moon rose almost silver white
on a cloudless night
she was soft, firm and tender
and her lips sweet and hot
and I could not resist her,
the intimacy, the tenderness
and the love that she brought.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Perfect World
We get to be a ripple in the water
We get to be a rock that's thrown
We get to be a boy on the bridge
Standing over the reservoir
I see the water lapping on the shoreline
Buried forest of a man made lake
Cemeteries are laying underneath it
Your heart like a damn embrace
We're floating we're swimming
And at this moment we are forgetting
What we caused what it takes
The one perfect world when we look the other way
I'm okay if I don't look a little closer
I'm okay I if don't see beyond the shore
I'm okay I don't have to do the killing or
Know what the killing is for
We're talking we're driving
And in this moment we are denying
What we caused what it takes
The one perfect world when we look the other way
One perfect world...when we look the other way
You can see beyond the middle isolation
And the miracle of daybreak doesn't move you anymore
Connect the points and then see the constellations
As the night comes down on the reservoir
We're swimming we're floating
And in this moment we are beholden
To what we've caused to what it takes
The one perfect world
Can we learn to live another way
Perfect world...can we learn to live another way
One...perfect world
Get to be a ripple in the water
song performed by by Indigo Girls
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At Katibawasan
It is not true
that all things
are born
in warmth.
A strong stem
of white water
plunges into
a corner of
the emerald pool.
My arms are
outstretched
pale greeen
beneath
the water.
Swallows crush
their wings
against
the water's surface.
And I am in the
grip
of some
nameless ecstasy,
emerging from
water
cold
as ice.
poem by Justine Camacho Tajonera
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