Sonnet I: Like an Advent'rous Seafarer
Like an advent'rous seafarer am I,
Who hath some long and dang'rous voyage been,
And, call'd to tell of his discovery,
How far he sail'd, what countries he had seen;
Proceeding from the port whence he put forth,
Shows by his compass how his course he steer'd,
When East, when West, when South, and when by North,
As how the Pole to every place was rear'd,
What capes he doubled, of what Continent,
The gulfs and straits that strangely he had past,
Where most becalm'd, where with foul weather spent,
And on what rocks in peril to be cast:
Thus in my love, Time calls me to relate
My tedious travels and oft-varying fate.
poem by Michael Drayton
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It's A Hard Road
I jumped on the train
I left this old town
I escaped the rain
I'm no longer down
The wheels start to turn
My worries are gone
I have lots to learn
About the trail that I'm on
As I look around
I see my new friend
I know I am bound
To travel till the end
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
The train it did slow
I'm in a new place
The moonlight does glow
On my tired face
It's time for me
To try and find a bed
It's time for me
To rest my weary head
Morning is here
There's sorting to do
I'll sound sincere
With my goodbye to you
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
It's time to move away
I'm not satisfied
I've spent many a day
Finding a place to reside
There's a town on my mind
It's just down the track
No need to find
A way to get back
The train I will get
Sitting at the station
The future is set
I feel anticipation
I'll travel south and I'll travel north
I'll travel east and I'll travel west
I just want to find the road that is best
poem by Liam Hughes
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4. Blow me down
The North wind blew on Monday
As the East wind got the flu
The West wind blew on Tuesday
As the South wind never knew
The North East wind had Wednesday
As the South West wasn’t chuffed
The North West blew on Thursday
As the South East hardly puffed
The East and West blew Friday
As the others had a rest
The North and South blew Saturday
As the weekends were the best
The lot of them had Sunday
As the winds turned into storm
The whole of them had Monday off
As the week got back to norm
poem by David Threadgold (2008)
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The Second Voyage
1903
We've sent our little Cupids all ashore --
They were frightened, they were tired, they were cold:
Our sails of silk and purple go to store,
And we've cut away our mast of beaten gold
(Foul weather!)
Oh 'tis hemp and singing pine for to stand against the brine,
But Love he is our master as of old!
The sea has shorn our galleries away,
The salt has soiled our gilding past remede;
Our paint is flaked and blistered by the spray,
Our sides are half a fathom furred in weed
(Foul weather!)
And the Doves of Venus fled and the petrels came instead,
But Love he was our master at our need!
'Was Youth would keep no vigil at the bow,
'Was Pleasure at the helm too drunk to steer --
We've shipped three able quartermasters now.
Men call them Custom, Reverence, and Fear
(Foul weather!)
They are old and scarred and plain, but we'll run no risk again
From any Port o' Paphos mutineer!
We seek no more the tempest for delight,
We skirt no more the indraught and the shoal --
We ask no more of any day or night
Than to come with least adventure to our goal
(Foul weather!)
What we find we needs must brook, but we do not go to look,
Nor tempt the Lord our God that saved us whole.
Yet, caring so, not overmuch we care
To brace and trim for every foolish blast,
If the squall be pleased to seep us unaware,
He may bellow off to leeward like the last
(Foul weather!)
We will blame it on the deep (for the watch must have their sleep),
And Love can come and wake us when 'tis past.
Oh launch them down with music from the beach,
Oh warp them out with garlands from the quays --
Most resolute -- a damsel unto each --
New prows that seek the old Hesperides!
(Foul weather!)
Though we know their voyage is vain, yet we see our path again
In the saffroned bridesails scenting all the seas!
(Foul weather!)
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Seagulls
Seagulls are flying from edge tot edge,
their screeching voices call the veldt, the sky the sea
of South Africa stretching east and west
to a carnivorous hunt above the ridges, sea ditches
and small crabs, whose lives are spent in shell crevices, yield
splashing blood, ooze from their guts, their veins with
a little nucleus of skeleton. It was when I walked
facing the sea at its east end with a kind of dredge
of sprinkling sand, strolled through the lathering water
naked legged in the winter water, with a member as bait
under cast moon with rocks itching and scratching my feet
after I saw in my rising eyes the stretches, flattening
of this one land, a country stretching east to west,
(as if no other exists anywhere else)
south to north, wherever I were going
with hillocks, mountains, flashing city lights,
even trees looking somewhat blatantly
as if staring at me with cold winter bitterness.
I know that the sun still turns, until the next day
and the morning will visit as owls or rats to us
in hues of brilliant blue, only in the Cape it will be grey
and I know that day and night the seagulls fly over me
or we or us with wings covering South Africa, the whole
the continent of Africa, even the whole wide world
and their screeching will last until eternity.
[Reference: Owls by Leslie Norris.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Seagulls [1]
Seagulls are flying from edge tot edge,
their screeching voices call the veldt, the sky the sea
of South Africa stretching east and west
to a carnivorous hunt above the ridges, sea ditches
and small crabs, whose lives are spent in shell crevices, yield
splashing blood, ooze from their guts, their veins with
a little nucleus of skeleton. It was when I walked
facing the sea at its east end with a kind of dredge
of sprinkling sand, strolled through the lathering water
naked legged in the winter water, with a member as bait
under cast moon with rocks itching and scratching my feet
after I saw in my rising eyes the stretches, flattening
of this one land, a country stretching east to west,
(as if no other exists anywhere else)
south to north, wherever I were going
with hillocks, mountains, flashing city lights,
even trees looking somewhat blatantly
as if staring at me with cold winter bitterness.
I know that the sun still turns, until the next day
and the morning will visit as owls or rats to us
in hues of brilliant blue, only in the Cape it will be grey
and I know that day and night the seagulls fly over me
or we or us with wings covering South Africa, the whole
the continent of Africa, even the whole wide world
and their screeching will last until eternity.
[Reference: Owls by Leslie Norris.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hym To God, My God In My Sickness
Since I am coming to that holy room,
Where, with thy choir of saints for evermore,
I shall be made thy music; as I come
I tune the instrument here at the door,
And what I must do then, think here before.
Whilst my physicians by their love are grown
Cosmographers, and I their map, who lie
Flat on this bed, that by them may be shown
That this is my south-west discovery,
[lang l]Per fretum febris[lang e], by these straits to die,
pmdv3 n='33-11'> I joy, that in these straits I see my west;
For, though their currents yield return to none,
What shall my west hurt me? As west and east
In all flat maps (and I am one) are one,
So death doth touch the resurrection.
Is the Pacific Sea my home? Or are
The eastern riches? Is Jerusalem?
Anyan, and Magellan, and Gibraltar,
All straits, and none but straits, are ways to them,
Whether where Japhet dwelt, or Cham, or Shem.
We think that Paradise and Calvary,
Christ's cross, and Adam's tree, stood in one place;
Look, Lord, and find both Adams met in me;
As the first Adam's sweat surrounds my face,
May the last Adam's blood my soul embrace.
So, in his purple wrapp'd, receive me, Lord;
By these his thorns, give me his other crown;
And as to others' souls I preach'd thy word,
Be this my text, my sermon to mine own:
'Therefore that he may raise, the Lord throws down.'
poem by John Donne
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City of Love
Come to this place,
And witness the sunrise,
Come to this city,
And witness its beauty.
To the north of the city,
Rice-fields you'll see,
To the south you can reach,
The city beach.
Come stop by the west,
Oh, one of the world's best!
You'll find nothing else,
But Mt. Mayon no less!
If you go to the east,
The International port can't be missed,
Or just go island hopping,
That should be exciting!
Or make your number one priority,
St. John The Baptist Church you should be,
From Mt. Mayon's rocks it was formed,
Rocks- by egg whites were joined!
Where is this city so pretty?
By its beauty you'll be in captivity,
Tabaco-City of Love no wonder,
Is a rightful name yours forever.
poem by Richelle Barrameda
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The Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Wind
He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea,
He steals the down from the honeybee,
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing,
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
He calls up the fog and hides the hills,
He whirls the wings of the great windmills,
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover!
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
The pine trees toss him their cones with glee,
The flowers bend low in courtesy,
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls,
The flag in front of the school unfurls.
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,
Whistling, howling, rainy wind,
North, South, East and West,
Each is the wind I like the best.
poem by Amy Lowell
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To Our Destination
They wear a direction for their utmost pleasure,
The direction is either north or south,
Not west or east, like the compass shows,
The directions are clearly seen with balanced vision.
They must reach their destination with safety,
Licking its food, fulfilling the commands
And realising less danger, for danger is clearly erected.
The north is where food is, the south is an opposite direction,
We wear a proper bracelet, golden and silver and diamond,
These are the jewels of the adventurer,
One to take on the rivers and mountains is the ruby.
So pleasurable is the journey we have designed,
Mapping the way home with zeal.
poem by Naveed Akram
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In Your Mind There Remains Unrest
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.
You seek a model,
In the East.
One you can bottle,
From the North.
To establish a nest,
One picked from the West.
And,
In the South you'll have that house...
Successfully built by an architect.
If you can't see it in the East.
And it can't be seen in the North.
So you look about in the West,
To declare that the South is best.
But,
Yet in your mind there remains unrest.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Individuals
In the west we look to the east.
In the east we look to the west.
In the south we look to the north
and in the north we look to the south.
Wherever we are we look to the opposite
for the mystical sunshine
we see in others eyes.
That promise of plenty
everyone seems to have.
Each life is individual
to be lived the same way.
Each will have separate roads
along which to travel.
Each will find something
in what others have declined.
Each will find a path
to the heaven that they seek
as the individuals we are.
20 September 2010
poem by David Harris
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The Movin' Blues
People up north are movin' south.
People down south are movin' west.
People out west are movin' east.
People don't know which move is best?
They've got the movin' blues.
People up north say it's too cold.
People down south say it's too hot.
People out west say it's too dry.
Nobody's happy with what they've got.
They've got the movin' blues.
Now movin' around is such a pain.
It takes too long to pack.
You leave all your friends and all you knew.
and you wonder if you'll ever move back?
You've got the movin' blues.
I think where you're the happiest
is the place you ought to stay.
So settle down and see how you feel.
Hopefully you won't have to move away
and get the movin' blues.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Place I Love!
The Place I Love!
You’ll never guess the place where I’ve been,
You’ll never believe the things I have seen,
I’ve been to a place that’s hidden from most,
To a secret place, off the north east coast.
It’s quiet, remote, and way off the track,
A place once visited, you’ll long to go back.
A place where rare birds, from Kittiwake, to tern,
Fly to far away places, to always return.
Where the shells on the sand lie, undisturbed,
And the Puffins of Farne, may nest, un-perturbed.
Where the mighty North Sea, meets the place I would be,
To the Farne isles, up north, in the coaly North Sea.
Where the fishermen steer clear, so as not to upset,
This wonderful wildlife, few people have met,
For here is a place, where few folk have been,
Where the fish can swim free, and the waters are clean.
Where the dolphin and seal, may swim side by side,
Where they breed and play courtship, with no need to hide,
Where “flatties”, and haddock, reproduce in large number,
Far, far away, from the industrious Humber!
Go visit, …The North East of England.
poem by Derek. A. Sim
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The Course
Just as a ship sets sail and leaves her berth,
Her goal a port across the sea,
A new life starts a voyage from its birth,
No knowledge of its fate to be.
Smooth sailing rarely is the course of life,
For storm and tempest all will see;
The course of men's lives mixed of joy and strife,
In different measures though they be.
The chart of life a voyage by time drawn,
It inches on as days they pass.
The waves that break upon the reef at dawn,
The wary see with eye to glass.
There shoals exposed, as waves foam into spray,
And siren's voices tempt one on
To rocks, where wrecks of souls bemoan the day
They ventured close to ground thereon.
While some who founder, by bad luck are cursed,
Some careless to destruction sail.
The former despite care and thought, submersed,
The later by their own hand fail.
The goal of life: To reach the port and rest,
With sweet adventure on the way;
To navigate life's ocean depths and test
One's will, the charted course to stay.
poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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Witnessed and Unrestricted Happiness
I've been loving you!
Taking trips from North and South,
To come to figure this one all out!
I have been loving you!
After traveling East and West...
To admit a discovery done,
Has put that question for me at rest.
Yes,
I've been loving you!
And even though I have beaten myself to death,
It seems.
I've been slapped awake from incredible dreams,
To acknowledge what today what true love for 'me' means.
Just...
To love you,
Knowing...
It gets no better than this!
Not in this existence.
Not with this witnessed and unrestricted happiness.
I've been loving you!
And forever is not too long.
Not to keep what this is.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Sonnet -- The Mariner
THE SEA-BEAT MARINER, whose watchful eye
Full many a boist'rous night hath wak'd to weep;
When the keen blast descending from the sky,
Snatch'd his warm tear-drop from the rav'nous deep.
Drench'd by the chilling rain, his dreary hour
Creeps slowly onward to the dawn of day;
Till burning PHOEBUS darting thro' the show'r,
Warms with his golden beam the frothy spray:
With lightning's swiftness he ascends the mast,
And cries, "another tedious night is o'er;"
He spreads the swelling sail, he sees at last
His darling MISTRESS, and his NATIVE SHORE;
The restless wand'rer then forgets past pain,
Steals a fond kiss, and BRAVES HIS FATE AGAIN.
poem by Mary Darby Robinson
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XXXIX. Religion consists in right sentiments of God
Frame to yourself some forms, some rules whereby
To guide your life, on which to keep your eye,
Which whether to yourself you live recluse,
Or which in conversation you may use;
For there are dangers, which the wise would fly
Both in retirement and society.
For neither can a ship with safety ride
Within her port, if not with cables ty'd;
Nor can she be secure, when under sail,
Though in fair weather with a prosp'rous gale,
Unless known rules, by long experience try'd,
Her well-spread canvas, and her rudder guide.
Nor only in the main do tempests roar,
They strike the flats, and riot on the shore;
And skilful sailors with just reason doubt
Danger within, as well as those without.
poem by Ellis Walker
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Go To Zero
Hey, hey on your marks, get set go to zero
Present and correct go to zero
North, south, east and west go to zero
Nothing is best go to zero
I do this and I do that, and when its cold, I wear a hat,
Its mostly cold
It pays to advertise thay say, Ill keep my hat on anyway
Or so Im told
When youre on patrol go to zero
By remote control go to zero
Forward, pause, return go to zero
All roads lead astern go to zero
(chorus)
When you miss your cue go to zero
Start the dance, anew go to zero
Black, red, white and blue go to zero
When you lose the one go to zero
Rewind can be fun go to zero
Nudge it left and right go to zero
Dont wait til tonight go to zero
Go to zero!
(chorus)
(go to zero)
Everywhere you go go to zero
Nough is apropos go to zero
North, south, east and west go to zero
Nothing is best go to zero
song performed by by Duran Duran
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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North
The East has that Englishmen
And the rising sun
The West has the open plains
And how they were won
On Independence Day
For all it's worth
You can ring those southern belles
I'm going
North
Up were the rushing rivers run and salmon leap
I could even get there in my sleep
Give me the ice and snow
Time to go...
North
So run up a banner and we'll stand underneath
You gave me a starry flag
For one with a leaf
I'm on the borderline
I jump back and forth
There's nothing to stop me now
I'm heading...
North
Up where the polar bears and moose and geese will play
And some of them address you en franais
Give me the ice and snow
Time to go...
North
And so I must leave you all
Alas and alack
And though we are parting now
I'll always come back
So as the compass points
That's where I'll be
But if you could only see
The perfection of...
North
It's something I will always carry in my heart
A place when dreams begin and life can start
Who cares what people know?
Let me go...
North
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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