When a Ship Sinks
When a ship sinks...
Those aboard,
Can declare any political affiliation they wish.
They can devide in divisions...
To refer to themselves as liberal or conservatives.
The can even be racist and be in denial about this.
But when a ship sinks...
The fish aren't concerned,
About the name 'given' to it!
They just see it as debris.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Lifeboats
The ship sinks.
And the naysayers on it,
Still have not blinked.
Those who praise themselves,
Are seen giving one another winks.
The ship sinks!
And even the captain...
Can not convince them,
Lifeboats have been created...
To enable them to survive and float.
The ship sinks.
And the naysayers on it,
Still have not blinked.
Those who praise themselves,
Are seen giving one another winks.
The ship sinks!
And even the captain...
Can not convince them,
Lifeboats have been created...
To enable them to survive and float.
The ship sinks!
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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It Is This Poem
thunderstorm
carries a ship
relentlessly aboard
a hopeless man he confesses to be
one hopeless man
losing his sense of direction
climbs
aboard towards the roof of the ship
gazing at the horizon
i fear that he would jump
out the ship into the whirlpool
he looks at me
and i sense the same
fear
to an identical situation
upon the same
storm upon the same ship
upon the same
dark hour
somehow we change
and so here i am
writing about him
it is this poem.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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Old Gold Veterans
Build a new ship in the shipyard of Mankind
That never sinks in the Seven Seas
And sail the ship with all the Veterans in an auspicious time
That heads to the land of Hermits
Where there are no any wars at all.
* Almost Heaven!
Life is older there
Older than the trees
Younger than the Mountains
Growing like a breeze.
-John.Denver-
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Avoid destructive thinking. Improper negative thoughts sink people. A ship can sail around the world many, many times, but just let enough water get into the ship and it will sink. Just so with the human mind. Let enough negative thoughts or improper thoughts get into the human mind and the person sinks just like a ship.
quote by Alfred A. Montapert
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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How’s My Boy?
“HO, Sailor of the sea!
How’s my boy—my boy?”
“What’s your boy’s name, good wife,
And in what good ship sail'd he?”
“My boy John— He that went to sea—
What care I for the ship, sailor?
My boy's my boy to me.
“You come back from sea,
And not know my John?
I might as well have ask’d some landsman
Yonder down in the town.
There ’s not an ass in all the parish
But he knows my John.
“How’s my boy—my boy?
And unless you let me know
I’ll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,
Brass buttons or no, sailor,
Anchor and crown or no!
Sure his ship was the ‘Jolly Briton’”—
“Speak low, woman, speak low!”
“And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy John?
If I was loud as I am proud
I’d sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?”
“That good ship went down.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the ship, sailor?
I was never aboard her.
Be she afloat or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I’ll be bound,
Her owners can afford her!
I say, how’s my John?”
“Every man on board went down,
Every man aboard her.”
“How’s my boy—my boy?
What care I for the men, sailor?
I’m not their mother—
How’s my boy—my boy?
Tell me of him and no other!
How ’s my boy—my boy?”
poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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A horse with two masters is always skinny; the ship with two captains sinks.
When I die, it will be a shipwreck, and as when a huge ship sinks, many people all around will be sucked down with it.
quote by Pablo Picasso
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Don't Alarm The Passengers
Steward...
Is it my imagination,
Or is the plane flying without a pilot?
'Don't alarm the passengers,
But yes.
The conservatives aboard,
Have decided those liberal...
Are in too many positions of control.
And wish to replace the pilot,
Because it is assumed...
He is a Muslim, born in a different country.
And determined he is no longer qualified to fly.'
But don't they realize all of us might die?
'I have been promised a high paying position,
By them...
When the new pilot is found and we land.
However...
No one else aboard has the guts,
To sit in the pilot's seat.
So I'm doing my best to keep all of you calm.'
Are you NUTS?
'Sir,
I must beg of you to lower your voice.
We have many conservatives flying first class.
And they will be distubed by your outbursts! '
But we all will die without a pilot!
'Hopefully not.
Many are now praying to have someone appear,
Who poses no threat to their stolen traditions.
And that person not be of color.'
What difference does that make?
'Many on board...
Rather die than be saved by a Negro! '
Are they all INSANE?
'Sir,
I must beg of you to lower your voice.
Don't alarm the passengers,
But yes.
The conservatives aboard,
Have decided those liberal...
Are in too many positions of control.
And wish to replace the pilot,
Because it is assumed...
He is a Muslim, born in a different country.
And determined he is no longer qualified to fly.'
So...
What happens? ! WHAT HAPPENS? ? ?
'Sir,
Please lower your voice.
What happens?
Whatever happens...
I'm sure no one will ever learn a thing! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Greatest Thing Happening On This Earth
Is it possible to turn this ship around?
'Sure.
Let's look on the bright side of this situation.
It should be a lot lighter to do this...
Since now the ship is under water.
And the passengers are faithfully waiting,
On the surface in their lifeboats.
Hoping we soon will return their ship!
And deliver it to them...
Wherever their mindsets may be! '
So there is a possibility?
'Sure!
Aren't we the greatest thing happening,
On this Earth? '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Smile, Fake and Get Paid
Hey...
When you are in a state of denial,
And most of the people supporting you...
Have endorsed your position,
With cheers heard too?
And wish you continued success?
Why not fight for the cause,
Of expanded ridiculousness?
When it is known one represents constituents...
Too juiced with self importance.
And they have shown undenying faithfulness.
Why admit that a ship sinks?
Just pass around designer sponges during brunch.
Smile, fake and get paid.
You'll have time to remove a mask.
And in this environment with climate fixed,
No one will ask of you to remove it.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Consolation As An Offering
i can be
whatever you want me to be
i can be a whisper
to your ear
on storms
i can be the lighthouse
of your lost ship
when something sinks
give me the sign
i can grieve
and turn off the light
i can offer
the consolation of darkness
it will be so dark
it will be, it will be
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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What I Can Be To You
i can be
whatever you want me to be
i can be a whisper
to your ear
on storms
i can be the lighthouse
of your lost ship
when something sinks
give me the sign
i can grieve
and turn off the light
i can offer
the consolation of darkness
it will be so dark
it will be, it will be
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Retooling of An Imbalance
A retooling of an imbalance comes.
To chase away the doldrums,
Forced to molest...
An unending quest for greed.
Opportunities now exist,
For the blinded ones to see...
Isolation that fed on seperateness,
And divisions of democracy...
Not only bred a disrespect,
But a loss of a dependency.
Inflicting the abilities...
And gifts of others.
No matter of one's looks or of color!
Without perceiving those basic needs,
All shared with one another!
Like desired dreams to live in peace and harmony.
Regardless of race, heritage or creed.
We are aboard this ship together!
And if it sinks...
Everyone suffers.
Everyone bleeds!
Drowning in aborted hopes...
We all observe as witnesses,
Slip from us to recede.
Repossessed from us and leave.
A retooling of an imbalance comes.
To chase away the doldrums,
Forced to molest...
An unending quest for greed.
And a dawning on the horizon...
Comes along with a Sunrise seen.
And the foolishness is swept away,
Of a kept unconsciousness...
Once darkening an enlightenment,
Now shining brightly it seems.
To rejuvenate truth and diminished realities.
This time with everyone praying...
Sensibilities accepted remains to stay.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sechu
To the great well of Sechu,
I am mending my net in a ship for my lover;
For out of the well came water and,
Out of the sea came the fish!
And we can now live together on this ship.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Imaginary Iceberg
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship,
although it meant the end of travel.
Although it stood stock-still like cloudy rock
and all the sea were moving marble.
We'd rather have the iceberg than the ship;
we'd rather own this breathing plain of snow
though the ship's sails were laid upon the sea
as the snow lies undissolved upon the water.
O solemn, floating field,
are you aware an iceberg takes repose
with you, and when it wakes may pasture on your snows?
This is a scene a sailor'd give his eyes for.
The ship's ignored. The iceberg rises
and sinks again; its glassy pinnacles
correct elliptics in the sky.
This is a scene where he who treads the boards
is artlessly rhetorical. The curtain
is light enough to rise on finest ropes
that airy twists of snow provide.
The wits of these white peaks
spar with the sun. Its weight the iceberg dares
upon a shifting stage and stands and stares.
The iceberg cuts its facets from within.
Like jewelry from a grave
it saves itself perpetually and adorns
only itself, perhaps the snows
which so surprise us lying on the sea.
Good-bye, we say, good-bye, the ship steers off
where waves give in to one another's waves
and clouds run in a warmer sky.
Icebergs behoove the soul
(both being self-made from elements least visible)
to see them so: fleshed, fair, erected indivisible.
poem by Elizabeth Bishop
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Here, Sailor
WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the channel, a perfect
pilot needs?
Here, sailor! Here, ship! take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I, hailing you,
offer.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Jonah
Jonah was God’s special prophet;
One stormy day a whale he met.
He had run far, far, far away,
From where he was to be that day.
He had went on a old tough ship
That was now by big waves whipped
But he was tired as the storm broke
And went and snuggled in his cloak
So down in the old ship he slept
While the others on the ship wept
Captain came down him to awake
Call on your god for your own sake
They would cast lots to see just why
The gods wanted them all to die
Up on the deck they cast the lot
Who’s fault was it for what they got?
Then on Jonah the lot did fall
And then and there he told them all
He told them why all was not well
He cried Throw me in the sea swell
So up and out they threw him in
And all at once the storm did dim
But in the sea Jonah did swim
And a fish came swallowing him
In a big fish three days and nights
So dark, slimy, and with no light
So deep down in there he did pray
That God would pardon his wrong way
That fish spat him on the dry land
Onto the soft, hot desert sand
To Nineveh he quickly went
To now do just as God had sent
poem by Joses Tirtabudi
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