Harmonica
Spirits come stern to foreshadow
our route westward onto Atlantic,
nautilus believe in ancient mantic,
and sudden port sentiments endow.
My ancestors were natural sailors,
serving the same cause for years,
worldwide route as funeral tears,
sable wives shed to ocean bailors.
Grim engagement describes a spell,
that haunts island men since birth;
sea engulfs them, an owing dearth,
of morose depths in mournful well.
Sailors stand upon the stern deck,
as dusk turns colors to hazy gray,
with a harmonica on a wistful play,
tearing the long shadows an' beck.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Related quotes
An Angel in the Water
Like The Goddess of the Sea
Like A Mermaid In Heaven
Shrouded in the icy blue sea, accompanied by the sun phoenix's rays lingering and dancing in the water,
She hides in the water where the sun glared into the sea,
She is beloved by sailors and pirates,
They all want to feel her ocean heart of love in the forbidden sea,
But sometimes she can be devious,
Sometimes you can see her in the mist where hazy smokey clouds block the sun,
Her head popping out of the her and you can see her glowing heaven devious eyes piercing through the gray mist staring into your firelight soul,
Sailors would give anything to be with her,
they would lure into her trap and she will twist their warm sun raving hearts into cold and fozen ice,
Even though they heard about this beautiful creature,
they would still go after her and hunt for her pearl ocean heart,
Their's something about her that make every guy crazy
she mesmerize their minds and hearts, making them into
bloodless zombies swimming blind into the sea but guided by the pulses of her aura,
You can hear laughter echoing in the fog and Adventurers would swim in the middle of the ocean for her, but before they reached her, something lurking in the shadows of the ocean reached them first and drag them under the sea, filling their lungs of hollow water because they tried to reach to a angel in the water
poem by RyuOh Kenshin
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A Salty Dog
'all hands on deck, we've run afloat!' i heard the captain cry
'explore the ship, replace the cook: let no one leave alive!'
Across the straits, around the horn: how far can sailors fly?
A twisted path, our tortured course, and no one left alive
We sailed for parts unknown to man, where ships come home to die
No lofty peak, nor fortress bold, could match our captain's eye
Upon the seventh seasick day we made our port of call
A sand so white, and sea so blue, no mortal place at all
We fired the gun, and burnt the mast, and rowed from ship to shore
The captain cried, we sailors wept: our tears were tears of joy
Now many moons and many junes have passed since we made land
A salty dog, this seaman's log: your witness my own hand
song performed by by Styx
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Quarta Maria
Quarta Maria bears up round,
favored route before Gregale,
helm a-weather to surround,
concaving head and main sail.
Bearing west, for four days,
a-steady course at two-thirty,
she goes large on mile chase,
foremast curves full and sturdy.
Sails apt away closing to wind,
for not striking an opposing sea,
with square sail, routes winged,
Quarta Maria, Gregale nestle.
Ghost steersman upon rudder
a drunk crew upon dead water,
hoarse voices in dark shudder,
bearded fools in ocean, totter.
A ghostly route, for four days,
sails in solitude away forever,
comradely lost crew in craze,
able is the pilot in bad weather.
Gregale blows in gale frantic,
for four years, route to void,
adytum vastness this Atlantic,
drunk ghosts, on links to avoid.
For four centuries on link arcane,
aright working masts and ropes,
beholden to the Queen of Spain,
Quarta Maria's nautilus hope.
________________________
Gregale = North East wind
two thirty = at 230 degrees -
sailing west and slightly south
________________________
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Brass lantern lights
So egregious of a western datum to command
of this travel and conquer new, unknown lands,
what an effusive cause of my tidal obsequies,
my galley had taken an imperious route west.
Nomad women named of this, a ghostly route,
nobody had survived to report, or preached,
on new lands that no one before placed his foot,
my monkey shrieks at this analogy bewitched.
I spoke to the steersman to be aware of stars,
that shine south, beyond the parallel of N.27,
because their luminance is evident of storms,
and of the morning rainbow that brings tempest.
Brass lantern lights illuminate to a nowhere,
around the steadfast an immense void to dismiss,
lonely serenity embraces a dim fear, as we stare,
because dark monsters will emerge of the Abyss.
We have a Crucifix to talk to, He maybe listens;
my ancestors were sailors, got lost in deepest sea,
As we bear away, my bitter mouth is curving down,
all we edge to pay a coin, for a darkened grave fee.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Treat Her Like A Lady
Treat her like a lady
By: jimmy buffett, david loggins
1979
Chorus:
Some of us sailors call her home
Shes big and shes strong and shes mighty
Some of us sailors call her our own
Guess thats the reason why
I treat her like a lady
Just treat her like a lady
Now I dont like the sound of the ground movin round
Or winds spinnin out of control
California earthquakes, only seem to make a me
Shake, rattle, and roll
Ive been too long on the mainland
Hotels, rental cars, and phones
Time to cast em aside, catch the very next tide
And go back, where I belong
Chorus:
Some of us sailors call her home
Shes big and shes strong and shes mighty
Some of us sailors call her our own
Guess thats the reason why
I treat her like a lady
Treat her like a lady
Now great whales travel the rhumb lines
Dodging those deadly harpoons
Spawning their young, as their ancestors done
In the depths of her hidden lagoons
Therere times I find myself with them
And times I feel as they do
Were on a similar course, its just a different source
But Im in danger of extinction too
Chorus:
Some of us sailors call her home
Shes big and shes strong and shes mighty
Some of us sailors call her our own
Guess thats the reason why
I treat her like a lady
Treat her like a lady
Treat her like a lady
Treat her like a lady
And miss her when Im gone
(lady, lady) treat her like a lady
(lady, lady) treat her like a lady
(lady, lady) got to treat her like a lady
(lady, lady) treat her like a lady
Lady, lady
Lady, lady
Lady, lady
Notes -
Electric guitar: keith sykes
Background vocals: the embarrasing stains (james taylor, alex taylor,
Hugh taylor), deborah mccoll, dave loggins
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Springboard
Light reflecting leaves
prepare fair sakura rain,
winter grieves, spring reigns
Springboard for first fruits
en route bathing root and branch
pink of perfection
By Nature's cycle
spinning top turns towards sun
Earth's birth, mirth, worth, dearth.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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And Not a Drop to Drink.
She wanted to be in the sea,
and spread throughout each molecule and expand to each ocean.
She wanted to be the beauty of the sun's reflection
as it rises over the Atlantic Ocean in glorious gleaming ripples
and plants itself in the periwinkle sky.
She always said she'd be happy in the ocean.
'Sprinkle me over the San Fransisco Bay! ', she would say.
And I hear she hated the cold.
But, to this day, in the ground she does lay.
She wanted to be in the ocean,
where she'd be translated to the evaporating rain.
She could fall over her beloved garden
and kiss it with each droplet of an afternoon storm.
She would translate her love through the waves' lullabies
and gently rock sailors to sleep
and wander freely throughout the world,
a traveler,
as, at heart, she's always been.
I sometimes wish my tears could make an ocean.
poem by Amanda Lukas
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(Get Your Kicks On) Route 66
If you ever plan to motor west
Travel my way, take the highway that's the best
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
It winds from Chicago to LA
More than two thousand miles all the way
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Now you go through Saint Looey
Joplin, Missouri
And Oklahoma City looks mi-ighty pretty
You'll see Amarillo
Gallup, New Mexico
Flagstaff, Arizona
Don't forget Winona
Kingman, Barstow, San Bernandino
Won't you get hip to this timely tip
When you make that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Won't you get hip to this ti-imely tip
When you make a-that California trip
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
A-get your kicks on Route sixty-six
Get your kicks on Route sixty-six
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Floating Brim
An eerie song spelled by the auster,
but no one, must listen to the gusts
we receive on our cargo's pilot cutter
as we sheer off, to a nightly cussed.
The wind sings this divergent song,
with a conceived vision to whisper,
upon the pilot cutter, sailing along
Atlantic, as we stare at the big dipper.
On long route, attention sharpens,
with our steersman's whistling song,
heard in a liquor bar in Antwerpen
but he was not so lucky or strong.
A quarrel and a flashing blade, drawn
just for a solitude's question spend,
on Ocean wondering his soul 's upon,
in the winds, a harmonica will blend.
A ghostly port to stop, at Cape Coast,
a shinning and all was a dim past,
an end aghast, a thorny crowned post
to visit my sleep, for I remained last.
Our cargo slowly cuts on a bluish drape,
our diesels hum a besetting rhythm
in mists, as we envision a dark gate
that opens to engulf our floating brim.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Shamans and Dreamers
Rise to the occasion, feathers and drums
Let the colors of the rainbow shine
These myths have faces, let them dance
Music is a shaman
Ghosts play in the sacred fire
Ancient voices come out of their graves
Vast rivers of life flow in quiet soul
Visions shelter interior hallways
Dreamers induce the mystic pathway
Cool summer breeze deep with ancestry
Eyes of night bright with oracles
The old clock chimes
Moonlight glow on the lake
Wolfs howl in the distant forest
Tears bring memories by a camp fire
Sailors on royal ships, marooned
Watery graves of sunken antiquity
Spirits in the world of shadow
We are the living past, tell their stories
We are the scribes of true history
Stars play like ancient divine thespians
Shamans and dreamers feel chills tonight
poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Laughing Moon
An Ocean route causes my nocturnal sorrow;
remorse and falsities keep me awake;
odd years and forgotten songs I borrow,
with demons transferring my mistakes.
They are my lost pals! From Oceanic depths,
they jump and dance dressed as buffoons,
and each one keeps a violin or trumpet,
as they play around me, their looney tunes.
Quite a group! A theater in a dusk folklore
drunken musicians, organs distuned
are smiling with swollen faces to yore
in front of a half-hidden laughing moon.
Quite a feast this is! Hoarse sound of hymns,
amidst horns, vociferous trombones and lyres;
my joker pals in air jump! and sing;
I inherit their foolish laughs and tears.
And among them I see the best dancer jump;
his image in a pandemonium on a barren delf;
I see a chorus foolishly playing paeans;
as this buffoon resembles - of myself.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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The Dead Ship Of Harpswell
What flecks the outer gray beyond
The sundown's golden trail?
The white flash of a sea-bird's wing,
Or gleam of slanting sail?
Let young eyes watch from Neck and Point,
And sea-worn elders pray,--
The ghost of what was once a ship
Is sailing up the bay.
From gray sea-fog, from icy drift,
From peril and from pain,
The home-bound fisher greets thy lights,
O hundred-harbored Maine!
But many a keel shall seaward turn,
And many a sail outstand,
When, tall and white, the Dead Ship looms
Against the dusk of land.
She rounds the headland's bristling pines;
She threads the isle-set bay;
No spur of breeze can speed her on,
Nor ebb of tide delay.
Old men still walk the Isle of Orr
Who tell her date and name,
Old shipwrights sit in Freeport yards
Who hewed her oaken frame.
What weary doom of baffled quest,
Thou sad sea-ghost, is thine?
What makes thee in the haunts of home
A wonder and a sign?
No foot is on thy silent deck,
Upon thy helm no hand;
No ripple hath the soundless wind
That smites thee from the land!
For never comes the ship to port,
Howe'er the breeze may be;
Just when she nears the waiting shore
She drifts again to sea.
No tack of sail, nor turn of helm,
Nor sheer of veering side;
Stern-fore she drives to sea and night,
Against the wind and tide.
In vain o'er Harpswell Neck the star
Of evening guides her in;
In vain for her the lamps are lit
Within thy tower, Seguin!
In vain the harbor-boat shall hail,
In vain the pilot call;
No hand shall reef her spectral sail,
Or let her anchor fall.
Shake, brown old wives, with dreary joy,
Your gray-head hints of ill;
And, over sick-beds whispering low,
Your prophecies fulfil.
Some home amid yon birchen trees
Shall drape its door with woe;
And slowly where the Dead Ship sails,
The burial boat shall row!
From Wolf Neck and from Flying Point,
From island and from main,
From sheltered cove and tided creek,
Shall glide the funeral train.
The dead-boat with the bearers four,
The mourners at her stern,--
And one shall go the silent way
Who shall no more return!
And men shall sigh, and women weep,
Whose dear ones pale and pine,
And sadly over sunset seas
Await the ghostly sign.
They know not that its sails are filled
By pity's tender breath,
Nor see the Angel at the helm
Who steers the Ship of Death!
. . . . .
'Chill as a down-east breeze should be,'
The Book-man said. 'A ghostly touch
The legend has. I'm glad to see
Your flying Yankee beat the Dutch.'
'Well, here is something of the sort
Which one midsummer day I caught
In Narragansett Bay, for lack of fish.'
'We wait,' the Traveller said;
'serve hot or cold your dish.'
poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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Route 66
(word & lyrics by bobby troup)
This lyrics are like performed by natalie cole
If you ever plan to motor west,
Travel my way, take the highway that is best.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
It winds from chicago to la,
More than two thousand miles all the way.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
Now you go through saint looey
Joplin, missouri,
And oklahoma city is mighty pretty.
You see amarillo,
Gallup, new mexico,
Flagstaff, arizona.
Dont forget winona,
Kingman, barstow, san bernandino.
Wont you get hip to this timely tip:
When you make that california trip
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
Solo
Wont you get hip to this timely tip:
When you make that california trip
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
Get your kicks on route sixty-six.
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unfinished
A face half in shadow
in the gallery;
sudden silence
among the guests,
candlelit at the long table below.
Girls
serving sherbet
in the caravanserai.
Before the whirlwind
in the sandstorm's eye
tears up the desert.
A severed head
and the black mask of the executioner
on Tower Hill.
Broken masts and torn sails
sliding
beneath the waves
and sailors crying,
"Christ have mercy on me! "
until their lungs fill with sea.
A pewter plate
on a thin chain let down
from a barred window
above the city gate.
Swinging,
to and fro,
like tomorrow's pendulum.
Imprints
in the mind
from this lifetime or that
or something altogether earlier;
pressing against
the edges of consciousness
like a dream,
that is - but is not what it seems,
seeking its quietus.
Shadows following footprints,
looking to be reunited
with last year's feet.
poem by Brian Taylor
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Surfin Safari
Surfin safari
Lets go surfin now
Everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me
(come on a safari with...)
Early in the morning well be startin out
Some honeys will be coming along
Were loading up our woody with our boards inside
And headin out singing our song
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surfin route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surfin route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
At huntington and malibu theyre shooting the pier
At rincon theyre walking the nose
Were going on safari to the islands this year
So if youre coming get ready to go
Come on (surfin) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari)with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
Theyre anglin in laguna in cerro azul
Theyre kicking out in dohini too
I tell you surfings mighty wild its getting bigger every day
From hawaii to the shores of peru
Come on (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Come along (surf route) baby wait and see (surfin safari)
Yes Im gonna (surf route) take you surfin (surfin safari) with me
Lets go surfin now everybodys learning how
Come on a safari with me (come on a safari with...)
With me surfin safari.
song performed by by Ramones
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Spaniards' Graves
O sailors, did sweet eyes look after you
The day you sailed away from sunny Spain?
Bright eyes that followed fading ship and crew,
Melting in tender rain?
Did no one dream of that drear night to be,
Wild with the wind, fierce with the stinging snow,
When on yon granite point that frets the sea,
The ship met her death-blow?
Fifty long years ago these sailors died:
(None know how many sleep beneath the waves)
Fourteen gray headstones, rising side by side,
Point out their nameless graves,-
Lonely, unknown, deserted, but for me,
And the wild birds that flit with mournful cry,
And sadder winds, and voices of the sea
That moans perpetually.
Wives, mothers, maidens, wistfully, in vain
Questioned the distance for the yearning sail,
That leaning landward, should have stretched again
White arms wide on the gale,
To bring back their beloved. Year by year,
Weary they watched, till youth and beauty passed,
And lustrous eyes grew dim and age drew near,
And hope was dead at last.
Still summer broods o'er that delicious land,
Rich, fragrant, warm with skies of golden glow:
Live any yet of that forsaken band
Who loved so long ago?
Spanish women, over the far seas,
Could I but show you where your dead repose!
Could I send tidings on this northern breeze
That strong and steady blows!
Dear dark-eyed sisters, you remember yet
These you have lost, but you can never know
One stands at their bleak graves whose eyes are wet
With thinking of your woe!
poem by Celia Thaxter
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Air France Plane Crash Mystery!
Air France plane crashed into Atlantic Ocean
Flying from Brazil to France near an island!
From the Southern to the Northern hemisphere
It was a risky air travel for many on the ocean.
Even advanced operating systems can’t cope with
The sudden lightning and thunder storm in the sky!
Nature seems cannot be vanquished by Science at all!
Technological advancement is nothing before Nature.
Missing plane was a mystery both for France and Brazil!
Lightning falling on the electrical system exploded plane;
It was believed and reported in both the countries first.
But what actually happened nobody will know forever!
4200m the Atlantic Ocean has depth there it was found;
Going so deep and searching plane and other matters
Seems to be very difficult and impossible venture still!
So, this misfortune leads to think about other mysteries.
Planes and ships vanishing near the Caribbean islands
Some years ago without any clue became a big puzzle!
No traces of such happenings were unearthed so far and
That famous Bermuda Triangle mystery still continues!
Not only in Atlantic Ocean but also in Pacific Ocean area
In a spot called Devil Cave the danger of such like things
Also have been noted by the observers of ocean mysteries
Making South China Sea famous for that in the mystery list!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Our Fates....
ad so must i tell you now
about the persistence of the dropping rain
from the gray sky
to the roof following the gutter into a hole
into the graveled ground
into the canal that takes
everything back to the river
its passage had always been the most usual route
of the passage of any normal water
once free then tightened into a route
then spread into
a vast solution
diluted in a mass
of murky fluid world
i sometimes think if you heard the drops of rain singing
upon their arrival
their non-complaining songs
winding through all those guttered
existences
i sometimes wonder if you in some ways
remember
how we are alike sometimes
to those drops
to those dis-integrations
which are necessary
for the birth of the sea
and the branching of other
tributaries
like fingers of the hand
like hairs in our head
like some visions splitting in
the other junctions
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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At The Seaside
O SOLITARY shining sea
That ripples in the sun,
O gray and melancholy sea,
O'er which the shadows run;
O many-voiced and angry sea,
Breaking with moan and strain,--
I, like a humble, chastened child,
Come back to thee again;
And build child-castles and dig moats
Upon the quiet sands,
And twist the cliff-convolvulus
Once more, round idle hands;
And look across that ocean line,
As o'er life's summer sea,
Where many a hope went sailing once,
Full set, with canvas free.
Strange, strange to think how some of them
Their silver sails have furled,
And some have whitely glided down
Into the under world;
And some, dismasted, tossed and torn,
Put back in port once more,
Thankful to ride, with freight still safe,
At anchor near the shore.
Stranger it is to lie at ease
As now, with thoughts that fly
More light and wandering than sea-birds
Between the waves and sky:
To play child's play with shells and weeds,
And view the ocean grand
Sunk to one wave that may submerge
A baby-house of sand;
And not once look, or look by chance,
With old dreams quite supprest,
Across that mystic wild sea-world
Of infinite unrest.
O ever solitary sea,
Of which we all have found
Somewhat to dream or say,--the type
Of things without a bound--
Love, long as life, and strong as death;
Faith, humble as sublime;
Eternity, whose large depths hold
The wrecks of this small Time;--
Unchanging, everlasting sea!
To spirits soothed and calm
Thy restless moan of other years
Becomes an endless psalm.
poem by Dinah Maria Mulock Craik
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