Fisherman
Strong suntanned torso, horny hand on haft
of slender slivered stone tipped sharpened shaft,
he scans the sea, port, starboard, fore and aft,
steers bold through currents cold and crystal clear,
peers into swilling waves till shoals appear –
finned phantoms flitting on fine silver sand,
flee fitful, fretful, unforgetful spear –
veers single-handed, shingled strand so near.
Wave, windswept, one fights foaming tidal draught.
Successive seasons pass, this sacred craft
is followed still, upon same fragile craft...
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
Eagle Feather Fan
The eagle is my power,
And my fan is an eagle.
It is strong and beautiful
In my hand. And it is real.
My fingers hold upon it
As if the beaded handle
Were the twist of bristlecone.
The bones of my hand are fine
And hollow; the fan bears them.
My hand veers in the thin air
Of the summits. All morning
It scuds on the cold currents;
All afternoon it circles
To the singing, to the drums.
poem by Navarre Scott Momaday
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Sea Ballad - From
“HOW many?” said our good Captain.
“Twenty sail and more.”
We were homeward bound,
Scudding in a gale with our jib towards the Nore.
Right athwart our tack,
The foe came thick and black,
Like Hell-birds and foul weather—you might count them by the score.
The Betsy Jane did slack
To see the game in view.
They knew the Union-Jack,
And the tyrant’s flag we knew!
Our Captain shouted “Clear the decks!” and the Bo’sun’s whistle blew.
Then our gallant Captain,
With his hand he seiz’d the wheel,
And pointed with his stump to the middle of the foe.
“Hurray, lads, in we go!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)
“There are twenty sail,” sang he,
“But little Betsy Jane bobs to nothing on the sea!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)
“See you ugly craft
With the pennon at her main!
Hurrah, my merry boys,
There goes the Betsy Jane!”
(You should hear the British cheer,
Fore and aft.)
The foe, he beats to quarters, and the Russian bugles sound;
And the little Betsy Jane she leaps upon the sea.
“Port and starboard!” cried our Captain;
“Pay it in, my hearts!” sang he.
“We ’re old England’s sons,
And we ’ll fight for her to-day!”
(You should hear the British cheer.
Fore and aft.)
“Fire away!”
In she runs,
And her guns
Thunder round.
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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From Down The River
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase-
The swift, the sluggish-a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast-soft airs that waft
The half-breed-slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis-slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susan Frances Harrison
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From 'Down the River
Gatineau Point
A HALF-BREED, slim, and sallow of face,
Alphonse lies full length on his raft,
The hardy son of a hybrid race.
Lithe and long, with the Indian grace,
Versed in the varied Indian craft,
A half-breed, slim, and sallow of face,
He nurses within mad currents that chase–
The swift, the sluggish–a foreign graft,
This hardy son of a hybrid race.
What southern airs, what snows embrace
Within his breast–soft airs that waft
The half-breed–slim, and sallow of face,
Far from the Gatineau's foaming base!
And what strong potion hath he quaffed,
This hardy son of a hybrid race,
That upon this sun-baked blistered place
He sleeps, with his hand on the burning haft,
A Metis–slim and sallow of face,
The hardy son of a hybrid race!
poem by Susie Frances Harrison
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All in a Hot and Copper Sky
Grilled golden grains glance through his restless hands,
strong suntanned fingers straining sandy rain.
Stranded on a strip of ocean land,
he lonely lingers. Glances once again
from his castaway kingdom’s salty strand,
where he remains in solitary reign
over seagulls banking on the sand
and mosquito clouds which whine, complain,
from morn till night amid the palm tree bands
which food and drink provide to ease his pain.
The cloudless compass round, on every hand,
north, south, east, west, his anxious eye has panned.
He scans the coral sea from sky to land,
stands screening, once again, the sun steeped main.
While distant sea lanes still he spans in vain,
the visions echo through his aching brain.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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The Craft Of Life
I tried to study it for just a while:
All of the potions, from oysters to seducing smiles.
But I've found it's already inside me:
A big round bubble of sensuality,
Dared to be burst,
But worried about getting hurt.
I know how you like to kiss.
I'll ask you what you're thinking.
Silvers in our dark hair.
The sheets are soaked by your tiny fish.
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
Oo-ooh...
Tears spring to mind when I go back in time.
All those lost bodies just seeking security.
Jittering strangers with smutting hands,
Heavy and clever and full of demands.
Well I'm similar to you:
We're familiar with what to do.
I know how you like to kiss.
I'll ask you what you're thinking.
Silvers in our dark hair.
The sheets are soaked by your tiny fish.
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
The craft of life,
Oo-ooh...
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Surf-Song
Moon amidst halo ebb
entice ocean currents
feel silver beams shine
upon saline sea
Thrown soul sucking surge
inbound momentum tide
soar sweeping wave rolling
into surfsweep shoreline
Surpassing surrealistic dreams ambition
tossing rhythmic shoals
chase moon silver-gilt dreamtime
seize surf singer
Swept forth upon boiling
white crystal sands
poem by Terence George Craddock
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It's About The Craft
It's about the craft.
And a consistency applied,
To prefect its presentation...
One who has no hesitation,
To sacrifice time.
Without a seeking for devices,
That provides an easy ride.
It's about the craft!
And those who are up to the task,
Need not to answer when asked...
What for them is thirsted first.
It's about the craft,
That has such a holding grasp...
No one can loosen to have it released.
'That's deep!
But what is it that has a hold on someone,
One knows and prefers to keep? '
A love for what it is,
One does.
With a seeking to reach greater heights.
'Wouldn't it be easier if you lowered your expectations? '
Who's craft is this?
You do...
As 'you' wish!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Crystal Charisma
As clear as crystal necklaces
Worn by celebrities
And snowflakes as each passes
Upon a wistful breeze,
Or spiders' webs with morning dew,
So gossamer, so fine,
Transparent is my love for you,
My sweetheart Valentine...
As clear as crystal solitaires
That grace 9-carat rings
And icicles mid Winter's airs
As each new Christmas brings,
Or skating rinks spread out for all
To while away an hour,
Your eyes to me send out their call
With such hypnotic power...
As clear as crystal stars at night
That twinkle 'gainst the sky,
As if to shine with all their might
Intent to mystify...
I look at you and feel the thrill
Of love reborn, 'Hooray! '
Yet wonder if I ever will
Declare that love someday...
As clear as crystal would life be
If you said, 'I love you! '
Then all my doubts would surely flee,
For what else could they do?
As clear as crystal is my love,
Alas, I'm oh so shy...
Till God grants courage from above,
All I can do is... sigh...
Denis Martindale, copyright, April 2012.
poem by Denis Martindale
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`Oh, if that Rainbow up there!
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Spanning the sky past the hill,
Slenderly, tenderly fair
Shining with colours that thrill,
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment could reach
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach!
Here where the waves wash the strand,
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go.
Climb its frail rigging and go?
Where is its haven of rest?
Out in the gleam and the glow
Of the blood-red waves of the West?
Or where the isles of the dawn
Lie on an amethyst sea,
Does it drift, pale and forlorn,
Ghost of the glory I see?
Is there, ah, is there a land
Such as the Icelanders say,
Or past the West's ruddy strand
Or on the edge of the day,
Some undiscovered clime
Seen through a cloud's sudden rift,
Where all the rainbows of Time
Slowly and silently drift?
Some happy port of a sea
Never a world's sail has made,
Where till the earth shadows flee
Never a rainbow may fade.
Oh, if that rainbow up there,
Just for a moment would reach,
Through the wet slope of the air
Here where I stand on the beach.
Here where the waves wash the strand
Swing itself lovingly low,
Let me catch fast with one hand,
Climb its frail rigging and go!
poem by Ethel Turner
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The Stone Fleet
I have a feeling for those ships,
Each worn and ancient one,
With great bluff bows, and broad in the beam:
Ay, it was unkindly done.
But so they serve the Obsolete-
Even so, Stone Fleet!
You'll say I'm doting; do but think
I scudded round the Horn in one-
The Tenedos, a glorious
Good old craft as ever run-
Sunk (how all unmeet!)
With the Old Stone Fleet.
An India ship of fame was she,
Spices and shawls and fans she bore;
A whaler when her wrinkles came-
Turned off! till, spent and poor,
Her bones were sold (escheat)!
Ah! Stone Fleet.
Four were erst patrician keels
(Names attest what families be),
The Kensington, and Richmond too,
Leonidas and Lee:
But now they have their seat
With the Old Stone Fleet.
To scuttle them-a pirate deed-
Sack them, and dismast;
They sunk so slow, they died so hard,
But gurgling dropped at last.
Their ghosts in gales repeat
Woe's us, Stone Fleet!
And all for naught. The waters pass-
Currents will have their way;
Nature is nobody's ally; 'tis well;
The harbor is bettered-will stay.
A failure, and complete,
Was your Old Stone Fleet.
poem by Herman Melville
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Ships Of The Night
Poems pass
in the night also.
Port starboard lights
burn bright also.
Poems pass stirred
hear wave slap night gongs?
Have you not heard
their salty soft saline songs?
Poems pass plotted
in navigated narrows; of lapping passage night.
Have you not heard
their soft spoken saline songs; by glow of candle light?
Poems pass navigated
in natant night also.
Daily cares contested
at last laid low below.
Poems pass
in shadow seamed night.
Poems pass
in nuptial nocturnal night flight.
Has not herald heard
silver shimmering saline songs?
Poems pass like flight of bird
as eternal endless night sails on.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Omaha Beach
The ship lay offshore
gently rocking
port to starboard
shards of mica
in the black sand glitter
in the gloom
gnarled and twisted trees
cling to a rockstrewn hillside
sharp odor of cordite
a barking dog
a single raven overhead
poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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I'm really proud to have been in The Craft. I will always be that chick from The Craft, no matter what I do.
quote by Robin Tunney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We were advised that nobody could stop us from pursuing our craft simply because we had honed, or even developed that craft while working at a company.
quote by David Crane
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You cannot limit yourself to one area of specialized craft. Instead, regardless of craft, you have to charge all forms of expression that lead to the community, to other people, with meaning.
quote by Alexander Kluge
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sonnet 15
Perfect morning sunrise
Nature's beauty all round
Nothing but blue clear sky
And all the ocean sounds
The sand is soft and clean
Another wave rushes on in
Such a place to daydream
What a day to simply grin
Ships pass by one by on
A lonely seashell on sand
The crisp air kissed by sun
We walk luv hand in hand
Thankful I am for this day
Life gets better in every way
poem by Suelynn Walters
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A hand in hand
Yes it is you and me
Under the shade of tree
We are bound to be free
To walk together and not to flee
Hand in hand
Still very close friend
We may live together
There is nothing to bother
There is no fear
Fine days to approach near
Storm may wither
We may walk always together
Nothing can change
It is only to manage
Time may soon tell
If everything goes well
It is simple vow
We don’t know how?
We may stick to promise
Only to enjoy and not to surprise
Happy days and pleasant nights
Days to pass on without any fights
Enjoy it to full with all dedication
Pass it to all as good indication
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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O Word I Love to Sing
O word I love to sing! thou art too tender
For all the passions agitating me;
For all my bitterness thou art too tender,
I cannot pour my red soul into thee.
O haunting melody! thou art too slender,
Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass;
For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender,
The burden from my bosom will not pass.
O tender word! O melody so slender!
O tears of passion saturate with brine,
O words, unwilling words, ye can not render
My hatred for the foe of me and mine.
poem by Claude McKay
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Jesus
I saw You
this morning
in the sunrise,
Through the sunrays You whispered to me;
Everything that’s in front of your eyes
It's just for you; the mountains, the valleys, the sea.
I saw You this morning
in wave after wave
I felt You in the breeze,
that was gently touching
my cheeks. I knew that
I’ll be “ok” again for
days and weeks.
You were shining
in the crystal,
white sand,
In the blue
sky, I saw
Your face.
You hold me
with Your
strong and
mighty hand,
and covered
me in Your
Love and
Grace.
poem by Marius Alexandru (September 2021)
Submitted by anonym
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