Pitchers of dark ale
It was evident our coordinates entered
in parallax with old dimensions affected;
hence the captain's voice unexpected,
started to sing Verdi, bass and stentor.
The destination was a port of allegiance
so, we responded to the notion veering;
Saint Nicolas was on the rudder steering,
with the ship cunning to void attendance.
Quoiled up round was our blurred scope,
in open seas we egressed, ropes to hale,
drunk by overflown pitchers of dark ale,
communicating in a woozy speech trope.
With minds numb we composed lyrics,
our hoarse voices singing to ocean naiads;
where else, sea nymphs, heard bards,
on bass gargle nonsense of sot freaks?
The ship was going happy like a cradle,
seesawing on waves with deleted worry;
how else could we address to a blurry,
a dull horizon above tricky depths hadal?
We sang and sang in blear mist forever,
ten eons passed since we began drinking,
dark ale was thirstily in mouths sinking,
Sirens were laughing with time to sever.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Uncharted Seas
the storm rages...
the sky dark and angry.
tossed by the waves,
water and salt in my face...
no sign of moon or stars.
following, following,
the song of the sirens...
i've let go of the rudder!
i reach over to
touch your face...
this ship sailing
on uncharted seas.
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Poet's Song
I HID in the world and sang,
And I sang so loud and long
That all the ages rang
With the music of my song.
I sang of the earth and sky,
5
I sang of the whispering seas,
I sang of the mountains high,
And I sang of the flowers and trees;
I sang of the early spring,
I sang of the dawning day,
10
I sang, for I had to sing
As the young lambs have to play;
Till heaven and earth were ringing,
And all the people heard,
And they said, "We love his singing,
15
For his song is the song of the bird."
poem by Frederick George Scott
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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After The Sea-Ship
AFTER the Sea-Ship--after the whistling winds;
After the white-gray sails, taut to their spars and ropes,
Below, a myriad, myriad waves, hastening, lifting up their necks,
Tending in ceaseless flow toward the track of the ship:
Waves of the ocean, bubbling and gurgling, blithely prying,
Waves, undulating waves--liquid, uneven, emulous waves,
Toward that whirling current, laughing and buoyant, with curves,
Where the great Vessel, sailing and tacking, displaced the surface;
Larger and smaller waves, in the spread of the ocean, yearnfully
flowing;
The wake of the Sea-Ship, after she passes--flashing and frolicsome,
under the sun, 10
A motley procession, with many a fleck of foam, and many fragments,
Following the stately and rapid Ship--in the wake following.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Homeland Africa
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi
Down the ocean a ship comes sailing through the waves
Filled with hundreds of men they take as slaves
Just long for their true homeland africa
And to be saved they want to be free
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...
They are tired of waiting for a brand new day
Some of them sing and chant some of them pray
And some men got a little tired too
No one knows if the journey pay
Men women and babyslaves
Coming to the land of liberty, liberty
Ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi ship ahoi...
song performed by by Boney M.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Nine Voices
Anderson/squire/howe/white/sherwood/khoroshev
On a beach
North africa
Nine tribesmen stand alone
Waiting for a distant call
Waiting for the world to answer
Thru' the night of a thousand stars
Encircled by the light
They began to sing a new song
Of forces that surround us
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
When the sun came up they sang
As the perfect calendar says
Each had the power of people
Speaking new languages
They gave forgiveness meaning
New ways of letting go
Each child is born for greatness
With forces that surround them
This voice
This dialogue
This voice
Singing as one
Nine voices
This dialogue
Nine voices
Singing as one
His voices
This dialogue
This voices
Singing as one
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
Nine voices
song performed by by Yes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Les-Durham smoke
Twas like a transferred odd bargain;
the harbor waited - wraith's silence,
Hope lived in souls - utopian thence,
a notion spelled thrice - and again.
Had sent the mail - my filed advice,
upon moors stood, mist-blurred double-dyed,
the ghosts of sodding souls who died,
dark traveler asked for bride price.
In air he thumped, rhythmic like waves;
and cruel did ask for his death toll;
in town the women wore black stoles,
the 'lost in sea' dwell in void graves;
As Charon hummed, our ship entered,
in this harbor where life's borders,
in verse 'bout cold of rhymed folders;
wake-waters trail was off-centered.
He stood upon the moors - I knew
the wind whipped ropes upon head-mast,
- we drew the guns; he lifted fast;
my shots echoed, debt-law to ensue.
I felt the slug, he moved across,
alread'-a-ghost, on moors he stood;
Tasted the blood - lifted, I should,
red drops dropping on grass and moss.
I lit a rolled Les-Durham smoke,
children were watching me round-eyed;
twas May, perhaps another died,
I heard bells ring and three craws croak.
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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Sea Rogues
Out in the sea, in the rough waves
A ruffian galleon in pursuit of ill-gotten wealth
Its crew of sea rogues out for stealing
They are led by a dark-hearted captain, Captain Health
This crew goes about stealing and killing
A terrible life for which they crave
A merchant galleon, they spotted
The ruffian ship on hot heels of the rich-laden ship
Moving forth at a speed to get closer
The ship of bandits had the merchant ship within its grip
The other ship, filled with chaos, disorder
Robbed clean and dry, the ship had bloodshed
Taking everything they’ve stolen
The sea rogues rejoiced with the prized stolen items
For celebration, they drank rounds of rum
To have amassed jewels, gems of great desire to them
Sang songs of the seas, played with pipes and drums
This is a sea life, they see as golden
They set sail towards land for keeps
Going at a great speed, the galleon headed west
The days went by, until they reached the shores
The rogues rejoiced, their journey laid to rest
Packing the stolen riches was the chore
The sea rogues had them treasured somewhere deep
The stolen riches are kept somewhere
Buried in one of the caves in a lonely terrain
Far away from the society’s reach
All these to make sure that no treasure is lost in vain
Then the sea rogues set out into the beach
Out into the sea, for more robbery there
poem by Obinna Kenechukwu Eruchie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Woozy
Lovely...
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Always on till like a quarter to three, lovely
Even though it's sandy and dusty
Adjust my position on my cushion
Time is a treasure cause it's oh-so-dear
Lying here at my leisure on air
And the sun is really high in the sky
How am I supposed to 'do the dew'
When it's too hot to move
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
Nobody in bed with me
I need room to be where I want to be
No need to zoom or rush
In fact, take out the bass in case we need more hush
Less percussion, a little less pushing and shoving
Take it easy, you could even get sleazy
Come around, watch a movie with the sound down
And get woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy
I'm woozy, yeah
I'm woozy
song performed by by Faithless
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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High School
A traveler's blurry vision clears up as the ship gone near the port.
Mist that once engulfed us now spit us out of his territory
Expedition has ended but journey to live never.
These crews were working together in the oceans for approximately 800 days
Plus 104 days of land tours.
They'd change captains 4 times yet pirates keep coming in.
They were unafraid and fight back.
Yet they do not have torpedoes nor cannons but words.
The seas got mad for the disturbance
Wind blew hard and brought a storm
Made huge waves smashing us unto the rocks of an endless shore
Our ship was there, almost destroyed
However these crews with the help of the captain
As we never expected stood up and initiate the ship's
Recovery
Now sailing proudly exclaiming gladly with every island passed through
Yet the points were all filled with X
Every location that should be colonized were colonized
We are heading back to the origin
Every lives of this Crew family should be lived separately
The expedition is over, but we'd nowhere to go
But away to live prosperously
Yet to complete a seafarers life was to go unto the sea
So to live our life completely, indeed for thee
We go another sail with a different rail
To learn how to seek treasure upon
The burning sun and the shores with infinite sand.
poem by Ellirie Aviles
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The Idea of Order at Key West
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
Its empty sleeves; and yet its mimic motion
Made constant cry, caused constantly a cry,
That was not ours although we understood,
Inhuman, of the veritable ocean.
The sea was not a mask. No more was she.
The song and water were not medleyed sound
Even if what she sang was what she heard,
Since what she sang was uttered word by word.
It may be that in all her phrases stirred
The grinding water and the gasping wind;
But it was she and not the sea we heard.
For she was the maker of the song she sang.
The ever-hooded, tragic-gestured sea
Was merely a place by which she walked to sing.
Whose spirit is this? we said, because we knew
It was the spirit that we sought and knew
That we should ask this often as she sang.
If it was only the dark voice of the sea
That rose, or even colored by many waves;
If it was only the outer voice of sky
And cloud, of the sunken coral water-walled,
However clear, it would have been deep air,
The heaving speech of air, a summer sound
Repeated in a summer without end
And sound alone. But it was more than that,
More even than her voice, and ours, among
The meaningless plungings of water and the wind,
Theatrical distances, bronze shadows heaped
On high horizons, mountainous atmospheres
Of sky and sea.
It was her voice that made
The sky acutest at its vanishing.
She measured to the hour its solitude.
She was the single artificer of the world
In which she sang. And when she sang, the sea,
Whatever self it had, became the self
That was her song, for she was the maker. Then we,
As we beheld her striding there alone,
Knew that there never was a world for her
Except the one she sang and, singing, made.
Ramon Fernandez, tell me, if you know,
Why, when the singing ended and we turned
Toward the town, tell why the glassy lights,
The lights in the fishing boats at anchor there,
As the night descended, tilting in the air,
Mastered the night and portioned out the sea,
Fixing emblazoned zones and fiery poles,
Arranging, deepening, enchanting night.
Oh! Blessed rage for order, pale Ramon,
The maker’s rage to order words of the sea,
Words of the fragrant portals, dimly-starred,
And of ourselves and of our origins,
In ghostlier demarcations, keener sounds.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Aboard At A Ship's Helm
ABOARD, at a ship's helm,
A young steersman, steering with care.
A bell through fog on a sea-coast dolefully ringing,
An ocean-bell--O a warning bell, rock'd by the waves.
O you give good notice indeed, you bell by the sea-reefs ringing,
Ringing, ringing, to warn the ship from its wreck-place.
For, as on the alert, O steersman, you mind the bell's admonition,
The bows turn,--the freighted ship, tacking, speeds away under her
gray sails,
The beautiful and noble ship, with all her precious wealth, speeds
away gaily and safe.
But O the ship, the immortal ship! O ship aboard the ship! 10
O ship of the body--ship of the soul--voyaging, voyaging, voyaging.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Reflections-1
1 Waves
Surging waves shouting
'Sky fallen, sky fallen, save'
Holds the horizon
2 Conch
Ringing in her heart
A hiss of His melody
Forever in hush
3 Horizon
Merry waves rise cheer
Waken earth blushing crazy
Sunsprung horizon
4 Dark Waves
Storming ocean dark
Up-sky adown sunken dark
Bubbling boat hosting
poem by Indira Renganathan
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She Sang A Mariners Song
Out to sea an ocean lay
Beyond the fall of all the stars
I saw a world asleep on the horizon
And while the waves rolled in
I heard a voice rising up
A girl sang as if to soothe the world
Each note a rise and fall
To match the sea in perfect symmetry
The words she sang sailed
Into the soul a beautiful dream
She sang a mariners song
To inspire the heart to write
An ode to the sea and her song
The rise and fall of a timeless grace
As beautiful, as perfect
As any sunrise or sunset
Out to sea an ocean lay
poem by Matthew Holloway
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By The Fireside : Tegner's Death (Tegner's Drapa)
I heard a voice, that cried,
'Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!'
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.
I saw the pallid corpse
Of the dead sun
Borne through the Northern sky.
Blasts from Niffelheim
Lifted the sheeted mists
Around him as he passed.
And the voice forever cried,
'Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!'
And died away
Through the dreary night,
In accents of despair.
Balder the Beautiful,
God of the summer sun,
Fairest of all the Gods!
Light from his forehead beamed,
Runes were upon his tongue,
As on the warrior's sword.
All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones;
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe!
Hoeder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud
Made of the mistletoe,
The accursed mistletoe!
They laid him in his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.
They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea,
Till like the sun it seemed,
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more!
So perish the old Gods!
But out of the sea of Time
Rises a new land of song,
Fairer than the old.
Over its meadows green
Walk the young bards and sing.
Build it again,
O ye bards,
Fairer than before!
Ye fathers of the new race,
Feed upon morning dew,
Sing the new Song of Love!
The law of force is dead!
The law of love prevails!
Thor, the thunderer,
Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.
Sing no more,
O ye bards of the North,
Of Vikings and of Jarls!
Of the days of Eld
Preserve the freedom only,
Not the deeds of blood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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The Flying Dutchman
The blue water stretches
as far as visibility allows to see
and there’s fog
rising white before the storm
out of the water.
The dusk becomes grey
and the sea from blue to dark black
while the night
darker than ink, as only companion
folds over the old ancient ship.
It’s Van der Decken standing as tiller man
behind the big wheel
and forever he steers the ship
on the journey that she goes.
Always cursing
his loud voice thunders
like lightning falling around him
for sailors to tend the sails right
and sails are hoisted crunching, groaning and trembling
with strong ropes
and the ship jumps
over the smashing waves.
Like a phantom
the Flying Dutchman appears
with white sails like a wraith
over the horizon
where it sails before a storm with speed.
The ship becomes lager
as the storm wind
brings her closer
and you hear her creak
against the power of the wind.
There’s thunder bolts blinding suddenly
and sea birds flies screeching
out in front of her,
while Van der Decken’s skeleton
drills his men powerless
to set the sails right
that is vibrating against the wind.
“How long still Lord, ”
echoes against the sea and sky,
without a answer
ever coming
and suddenly the ship is gone
as if it disappeared in the naught.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sea Life Remembered
Tropical night with extras added on like moon and stars.
I stood by the railing dreaming as the ship tilled its way
towards Jamaica, jet black sea but the transient furrow
the ship made was white; the ocean sang a sweet dirge,
and before I knew it I nearly fell overboard.
Stepped back, would anyone have heard my screams as
I swam amongst sharks and saw the ship´s lanterns fade
like dying stars? I reflected on my life wasn´t it time to
stop this infinite voyage between ports I had seen before,
harbours, which had nothing new to offer a jaded sailor?
Sat in my cabin, porthole open, I heard the mesmerizing
dirge; closed the porthole, cruelly hot the air fan giving
a sad attempt of cooling, the ship had no air conditioning.
This has to end, before I become a hollow eyed seafarer
lost on a misty island in the Saragossa Sea.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Closer To Home
(m&l - farner)
Everybody listen to me
And return me
My ship
Im your captain
Im your captain
No Im feeling mighty sick
Ive been lost now
Days uncounted
And its months since
Ive seen home
Can you hear me
Can you hear me
Oh am I all alone
If you return me
To my home port
I will kiss you
Mother earth
Take me back now
Take me back now
To the port
Of my birth
To the port
Of my birth
Am I in my cabin dreaming
Or are you really schemeing
To take my ship away from me?
You better think about it
I just cant live without it
So please dont take my ship from me
Yeah yeah yeah
I can feel the hand
Of the stranger
As its tightening
Around my throat
Heaven help me
Heaven help me
Take this stranger
From my boat
Im your captain
Im your captain
Though Im feeling mighty sick
Everybody listen to me
And return me my ship
Im your captain
Yeah yeah yeah, m getting closer to my home
song performed by by Helloween
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tegner's Drapa
Heard a voice, that cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And through the misty air
Passed like the mournful cry
Of sunward sailing cranes.
I saw the pallid corpse
Of the dead sun
Borne through the Northern sky.
Blasts from Niffelheim
Lifted the sheeted mists
Around him as he passed.
And the voice forever cried,
"Balder the Beautiful
Is dead, is dead!"
And died away
Through the dreary night,
In accents of despair.
Balder the Beautiful,
God of the summer sun,
Fairest of all the Gods!
Light from his forehead beamed,
Runes were upon his tongue,
As on the warrior's sword.
All things in earth and air
Bound were by magic spell
Never to do him harm;
Even the plants and stones;
All save the mistletoe,
The sacred mistletoe!
Hoeder, the blind old God,
Whose feet are shod with silence,
Pierced through that gentle breast
With his sharp spear, by fraud,
Made of the mistletoe!
The accursed mistletoe!
They laid him in his ship,
With horse and harness,
As on a funeral pyre.
Odin placed
A ring upon his finger,
And whispered in his ear.
They launched the burning ship!
It floated far away
Over the misty sea,
Till like the sun it seemed,
Sinking beneath the waves.
Balder returned no more!
So perish the old Gods!
But out of the sea of Time
Rises a new land of song,
Fairer than the old.
Over its meadows green
Walk the young bards and sing.
Build it again,
O ye bards,
Fairer than before;
Ye fathers of the new race,
Feed upon morning dew,
Sing the new Song of Love!
The law of force is dead!
The law of love prevails!
Thor, the thunderer,
Shall rule the earth no more,
No more, with threats,
Challenge the meek Christ.
Sing no more,
O ye bards of the North,
Of Vikings and of Jarls!
Of the days of Eld
Preserve the freedom only,
Not the deeds of blood!
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Bronze fog bell
Acclaimed invite - the bronze fog bell,
in mid damp air, black was the ship,
revengeful diktat and dark spell,
the ghost ship floats to send its knell
(dimensions odd - vectors of wield) ,
attract to ship where doors are sealed,
false worlds invite with dusk's befall,
doomed spell avers my crimson spilled.
The nimbus deign and winds beseech,
sea men confreres; as night darkens,
lost ghosts from depths attempt to reach,
the trips to ports that minds bewitch,
denounced their scopes and goals ardened,
my soul will flirt with truths discord'nt,
the drops of red the clouds besiege,
ship's descant curse of Had's accordm'nt
poem by Giorgio Veneto
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