The King and the Sea
After His Realms and States were moved
To bare their hearts to the King they loved,
Tendering themselves in homage and devotion,
The Tide Wave up the Channel spoke
To all those eager, exultant folk:-
'Hear now what Man was given you by the Ocean!
'There was no thought of Orb or Crown
When the single wooden chest went down
To the steering-flat, and the careless Gunroom haled him
To learn by ancient and bitter use,
How neither Favour nor Excuse,
Nor aught save his sheer self henceforth availed him.
'There was no talk of birth or rank
By the slung hammock or scrubbed plank
In the steel-grated prisons where 1 cast him;
But niggard hours and a narrow space
For rest-and the naked light on his face-
While the ship's traffic flowed, unceasing, past him.
'Thus I schooled him to go and come-
To speak at the word-at a sign be dumb;
To stand to his task, not seeking others to aid him;
To share in honour what praise might fall
For the task accomplished, and-over all-
To swallow rebuke in silence. Thus I made him.
'I loosened every mood of the deep
On him, a child and sick for sleep,
Through the long watches that no time can measure,
When I drove him, deafened and choked and blind,
At the wave-tops cut and spun by the wind;
Lashing him, face and eyes, with my displeasure.
'I opened him all the guile of the seas-
Their sullen, swift-sprung treacheries,
To be fought, or forestalled, or dared, or dismissed with laughter.
I showed him Worth by Folly concealed,
And the flaw in the soul that a chance revealed
(Lessons remembered-to bear fruit thereafter).
'I dealt him Power beneath his hand,
For trial and proof, with his first Command-
Himself alone, and no man to gainsay him.
On him the End, the Means, and the Word,
And the harsher judgment if he erred,
And-outboard-Ocean waiting to betray him.
'Wherefore, when he came to be crowned,
Strength in Duty held him bound,
So that not Power misled nor ease ensnared him
Who had spared himself no more than his seas had spared him!'
After His Lieges, in all His Lands,
Had laid their hands between His hands,
And His ships thundered service and devotion,
The Tide Wave, ranging the Planet, spoke
On all Our foreshores as it broke:-
'Know now what Man 1 gave you-I, the Ocean!'
poem by Rudyard Kipling
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Related quotes
Poverty, And Honesty!
dont talk to me about salvation,
your phallic lips pierced
with the trinkets of desire!
let's talk about equality
in a room where
light and darkness
both weigh the same,
sitting naked around a table,
bare but for time...
time purchased, and lost,
in the gamble to feed.
time, not for sale,
time taken and given!
dont talk about redemption,
with judgement clouded eyes.
let's talk about sameness,
same hearts, same souls.
poverty brings an honesty,
names each and every face!
and if we must pray,
let it be to each other.
let each wave be the ocean,
let the ocean free each wave!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Ghosts of the Sea
The ghosts of the sunken ships remember the fog,
Reminiscent of the danger of a wild, mad dog.
Hidden it the darkness it came into the night,
everyone aboard the sailing ship became affright.
They lost their way in that thick cloud as they fell the rhythm of the waves,
They could hear the water as it crashed against the shore and the caves.
Before the sailor knew it they were in the sea among the rolling, foaming crests,
The deep sea was calling them as the waves broke across their breasts.
The high seas had taken another ship as it lay battered among the rocks, moving
slowly with tide,
Softly they could hear the whispering of the fog as it spoke to the ocean wide.
The ghosts of the sea beckon as the ocean becomes a sheet of glass,
The fog has lifted and the ghosts for the deep invite the ships who would dare pass.
poem by Ron Dawson
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Craven
Over the turret, shut in his iron-clad tower,
Craven was conning his ship through smoke and flame;
Gun to gun he had battered the fort for an hour,
Now was the time for a charge to end the game.
There lay the narrowing channel, smooth and grim,
A hundred deaths beneath it, and never a sign;
There lay the enemy's ships, and sink or swim
The flag was flying, and he was head of the line.
The fleet behind was jamming; the monitor hung
Beating the stream; the roar for a moment hushed,
Craven spoke to the pilot; slow she swung;
Again he spoke, and right for the foe she rushed.
Into the narrowing channel, between the shore
And the sunk torpedoes lying in treacherous rank;
She turned but a yard too short; a muffled roar,
A mountainous wave, and she rolled, righted, and sank.
Over the manhole, up in the iron-clad tower,
Pilot and Captain met as they turned to fly:
The hundredth part of a moment seemed an hour,
For one could pass to be saved, and one must die.
They stood like men in a dream: Craven spoke,
Spoke as he lived and fought, with a Captain's pride,
'After you, Pilot.' The pilot woke,
Down the ladder he went, and Craven died.
All men praise the deed and the manner, but we—
We set it apart from the pride that stoops to the proud,
The strength that is supple to serve the strong and free,
The grace of the empty hands and promises loud:
Sidney thirsting, a humbler need to slake,
Nelson waiting his turn for the surgeon's hand,
Lucas crushed with chains for a comrade's sake,
Outram coveting right before command:
These were paladins, these were Craven's peers,
These with him shall be crowned in story and song,
Crowned with the glitter of steel and the glimmer of tears,
Princes of courtesy, merciful, proud, and strong.
poem by Sir Henry Newbolt
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Waiting
Serene, I fold my hands and wait
Nor care for wind, or tide, or sea;
I rave no more 'gainst time or fate,
For lo! my own shall come to me.
I stay my haste, I make delays,
For what avails this eager pace?
I stand amid the eternal ways,
And what is mine shall know my face.
Asleep, awake, by night or day,
The friends I seek are seeking me;
No wind can drive my hark astray,
Nor change the tide of destiny.
What matter if I stand alone?
I wait with joy the coming years;
My heart shall reap where it has sown,
And garner up its fruit of tears.
The waters know their own and draw
The brook that springs in yonder height,
So flows the good with equal law
Unto the soul of pure delight.
The stars come nightly to the sky;
The tidal wave unto the sea;
Nor time, nor space, nor deep, nor high,
Can keep my own away from me.
poem by John Burroughs (1876)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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When God And I Sang Love Songs
In the beginning was the word and the word wanted me
words many words haunted my days haunted my nights
sleepless nights so tired so tired yet the word wanted me
wanting needing to sleep yet words drove me would not let me be
words lines of verse filling filling my mind time after absorbent time
poems born in the night night visions night words wanting born life
no choice no choice the word commands commanded servant soul writes
hot summer nights sped youth hair dusty blond skin beach burnt brown
wind kissed bronze naked skin sea carried surging soul safe in wave water
salt spray wave spray sea foam wave burst white foam birth born surging
sea surge ocean surge wind wide sea beach breaking over wild soul free
swimming beach sand river tides water pulse washing over through soul
riding out hard fast with death wave laughing life rhythms tide fast run
words nights of words stone dropping given in love to God life codes
biorhythms still life lost thirty minutes hours blink in deep meditations
diving into quest states mind soaring soaring
through vast layered sea deep meaning
poems freeborn so many poems written intermixing
together rhythm worship never ending
poems life love wave vibrant harmonic ad hoc fusing
soul carried I sang our life songs of life
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Ocean Breeze
As I look out at the ocean
As I drive down the coast,
All I can see is a little bit of white and the rest nothing but blue,
Only thing that this scene can bring is nothing bad, but to boast.
By this bringing nothing, but the deep beauty to me and you.
Enjoying everything such as the white waves crashing into the rocks at the ocean,
And feeling the Ocean Breeze as it shot past us further than anything else can reach.
This is when all you can hear is nothing but water as it is motion.
Causing me to want get out of the car and walk down on the beach,
And to the foam builds up as the wave starts to hits its crest.
As the beach sand stuck to the bottom of my feet,
Or as I stopped and dug down in the sand to search for that sunken treasure chest.
Feeling that wave
Or as it knocked you over down on your seat.
This something that a lot of people will never hear or see.
And this is why the Ocean Breeze and Scene means so much me
By Frank Pulver
poem by Frank Pulver
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Gettysburg
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
As night went gray at the touch of day and the slow dawn mounted higher,
On the Federal right the third day’s fight was born in a sheet of fire:
Gun upon gun to the front was run, and each in its turn spoke forth
From fevered mouth to the waiting South the word of the watching North:
And the wraith of Death with withering breath o’er the wide arena played,
As across the large swept on the charge of the old Stonewall brigade;
But the first great wave on a sudden gave, retreating across the slain—
Gave and broke, as the rifles spoke from the long blue line of Kane!
Then silence sank on the double rank deployed on the sullen hill,
And, across the plain of the early slain, the hosts of the South were still,
Waiting, each, till further speech from the guns should dart and din—
Sign to the brave that the final wave of the tide was rolling in.
Adown the line like a draught of wine the presence of Hancock came,
And eyes grew bright in the steadfast light of his own that blazed to flame;
For the Federals knew, where his banner blew—and they saw their leader ride,
That a righteous God on that sea of sod had decreed a turn of tide!
So came one, when a signal gun awoke on the Southern side,
And Hunt’s brigade with a cannonade to the challenge of Lee replied,
Like arrows sent from a bow well bent to the heart of a distant targe,
Virginia’s hope rode down the slope, with Pickett leading the charge!
Steady and slow, as soldiers go in some serried dress parade,
With flags a-dance in their cool advance came the gallant gray brigade,
And steady and slow, as if no foe on the frowning heights abode,
To the cannon’s breath, to the scythe of Death, Pickett, their leader, rode.
God! what a mile he led them! From the slope they sought to scale,
Sullen and hot, the swingeing shot was hurling its awful hail:
Where a long ravine ploughed through the green they halted, anew to form,
And then, with a cheer, to the ridge’s sheer they swept like a summer storm.
Hand to hand at the guns they manned, the Federals fought and fell,
Where Armistead his regiment led up the cannister-harrowed swell,
He touched a gun—for a breath he won the crest of the Union’s pride—
Then over the hill Jehovah’s will decreed the turn of the tide!
Taken in flank each gallant rank of Pickett’s battalions gave,
Trampled and tossed, since hope was lost, there was left but life to save;
Beaten back on the travelled track, they faltered, and broke, and fled,
And, swinging his scythe, Death claimed his tithe in the pale and patient dead!
For the arm of the Lord had raised the sword that man may not gainsay,
’Twixt the cause of the Free and the cause of Lee the issue no longer lay;
For the word of the Lord had gone abroad that the strife of the right had won,
And Freedom’s foe at the call bowed low and answered “Thy will be done!”
Pickett, ah, Pickett, the staunchest heart in the Southern host that day,
Hail to the brave in the last great wave of the long and fearful fray,
That broke in foam on the trampled loam of that tempest trampled mount—
In the glory born of a hope forlorn they passed to their last account!
Meade, ah, Meade, there are hearts that bleed for your host that fought and fell,
When the final charge broke on the marge of a hillside turned to Hell!
Yet this the speech on the crag-girt beach that the sea proclaims for aye,
And this the word that the cliffs unstirred through the ages still reply:
Though the winds be strong that lash along the steeds of the charging sea,
With lunge and urge of assaulting surge yet seeking a further goal,
God in His pleasure hath set a measure, the bound of their boast to be,
Where, pile upon pile, and mile on mile, are the cliffs of calm control.
But the Lord of Hosts who guardeth the coasts yet loveth each sieging swell,
And He who is Brother to surge and smother is Brother to cliff as well:
He giveth the word if the shore be stirred, He biddeth the sea subside,
And this is our trust, that His will is just, however He turn the tide!
poem by Guy Wetmore Carryl from The Garden of Years and Other Poems (1898)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Memories in Water
Water ripples across a clear fountain blue,
Pennies the wishes of a new yesteryear,
The waves of the ocean washes its tide,
Taking with it the sands of oysters still,
The ocean deep, the blue as dark yet,
Getting darker, the ships of yesteryear living with regret,
The water only remembering the cutting of the ships,
As they cast over their nets.
Water falls from a sodden sky,
The shape of the tears to gather with the tide,
The deep of the water: silk to the skin,
Shall bury itself deep into the sands of time.
The tides of the ocean with its bare seas cries,
The forgotten memories of another time,
Telling its tale of each fisherman it brought with its tide.
Each teardropp of rain the clouds bring with grey skies,
Shall dampen each sunshine ray,
And with joy bring a rainbow to shine,
The rainbow in joyous colour opening up the sky,
The clouds forgetting each tear it had fallen from the sky,
Opens up its gaps, the sun's rays spreading wide,
The stillness of the water once again reflecting the light.
poem by Paula Glynn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Stay With Me
Tempered by greed, tall buildings breathe
Give a sigh of relief when its night
Stirring from sleep, we night owls creep
Is there any sign of life under this stone
Star chime hollow & true.
Love, child
Weep for me & I will cast your wheels in motion
Walk with me the inner reaches of emotion
Sheltered by creed, one piled on one
Do you have a little room for one small one
Light shine wild & free
Sun, rise
Weep for me & I will set your wheels in motion
Keep with me & like a roller on the ocean
Stand by me & I will fill you with devotion
Walk with me the inner reaches of emotion
Weep for me & sands of time will fill the ocean
Keep with me til rays of sunshine fill the ocean
Walk with me the inner reaches of emotion
Stand with me & I will fill you with devotion
Weep for me the sands of time will fill the ocean
Keep with me & like a roller on the ocean
Stand by me & I will fill you with devotion
Walk with me the inner reaches of emotion
The sands of time will fill the ocean
Keep with me & rays of sunshine fill the ocean
Walk with me the inner reaches of emotion
song performed by by Erasure
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Silent Sea
Shades of green and aqua blue
The sea painted a thousand hues
Beneath thundering ocean wave
Out of the reach of mariners graves
A living testimony swims in majesty
once the rulers of the sea
A whale song rings from beneath the ocean
A song of praise and true devotion
To the God of creation and of the sea
A sea being robbed by cruel thieves
The whale song drifts silently away
The hands of man have silenced their praise
As God looks down in his majesty
As tears trickle down on the silent sea.
poem by Debi Fields
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Sabrina
Isle of the ocean, say, whence comest thou?
The smoke thy dark throne, and the blaze round thy brow;
The voice of the earthquake proclaims thee abroad,
And the deep, at thy coming, rolls darkly and loud.
From the breast of the ocean, the bed of the wave,
Thou hast burst into being, hast sprung from the grave;
A stranger, wild, gloomy, yet terribly bright,
Thou art clothed with the darkness, yet crowned with the light.
Thou comest in flames, thou hast risen in fire;
The wave is thy pillow, the tempest thy choir;
They will lull thee to sleep on the ocean's broad breast,
A slumb'ring volcano, an earthquake at rest.
Thou hast looked on the isle — thou hast looked on the wave —
Then hie thee again to thy deep, watery grave;
Go, quench thee in ocean, thou dark, nameless thing,
Thou spark from the fallen one's wide flaming wing.
poem by Lucretia Maria Davidson
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Tears On The Beach
Sitting on the sand gazing at the ocean
Not even a ripple, no type of motion.
It was like my heart, dormant as can be.
So still, so silent waiting patiently.
You said that you loved me
And another there can never be.
But you had a roving eye
Something I did not see.
How easy it is for you to turn on emotions
But to any one person, you have no devotion.
So I just sit here with heavy thoughts and heavy heart
Wondering how we must part.
Your outer beauty attracts people to you
Like a flower attracts a bee
But what you hide deep within
No one person can see.
How is it that love can be so beautiful
And yet so blind, that to recognize it
Takes quite some time.
So I sit here on the sand, with my heart
Held in my hand.
Looking to throw it into the ocean
In hopes that it can wash away the pain
And my utter devotion.
Goodbye is but one word
From a voice that was never heard.
poem by Louis Rams
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Ocean Tides
I feel the tide of the ocean crash
Against my beautifully broken heart
The heat of a lovers romance
Turned icy cold beneath my words
A mist upon the return of the wave at bay
The silky smooth sunset, its vengeance
Playing against a unconcerned ones heart
The joke of natures warm feeling
Between using something beautiful
And hiding something ugly beneath it
I feel the tide of the ocean crash
Against my beautifully broken heart
The cruel unfulfilled destiny of fate
Gentle amusement of the clouds shape
How different two creations can be
The slow melting of winter through spring
A brief joyful experience of summer brings
Captivating glories of change by season
Each beautiful in a new way
I feel the tide of the ocean crash
Against my carefully broken soul
Mother natures way of saying shes sorry
The kiss of an unbroken promise
Torn between the quickest compromise
Concealed incredibly behind the babys first scream
A cute innocence of time, its laugh
A heart that aches for more than compassion
Something more than love itself
I feel the tide of the ocean crash
Against my carefully broken soul
Reason beyond control, hurried wind
Revealed by its destructive powers
Breaking down one by one determination
Locked for once a lovers gaze
Held on tight for too long, its gone
Rebuild start again, this times for sure
I feel the tide of the ocean crashing
Against the sharp intelligence I once carried
Slick ice one spot too many
Slid into whats got me down again
The death of a loved one brought
Through the joy of someones first Christmas
A longing of capture for a perfect snowflake
Results of a playful childhood tonight
I feel the tide of the ocean crashing
Against the sharp intelligence I once carried
As the water contains within it, a life form of its own
Breath taking creatures beneath the thought of death
Providing excitement for just a moment in time
Making our fears less harmful, yet convinced
Anything else is pleasure less dreams
Mocking a sense of pure individuality
Loss of consciousness beneath its surface
Hidden within its scary exterior, a different world
Harmonious to each its own, and carefully planned
I feel the tide of the ocean crashing
As if a victim of the shoreline
Yearning for faithful unbridled provoking
Shown by my ultimate trusting at ease
Bruising at some defeat in between
The product of natures hectic decisions
Changing of the worlds weather today
Toying with emotions, a feeling of peace
Overcomes the traffic of tomorrows tease
poem by Jessica Bouck
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Manhattan Skyline
(mags/pal waaktaar)
We sit and watch umbrellas fly
Im trying to keep my newspaper dry
I hear myself say,
My boats leaving now
...so we shake hands and cry
Now I must wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
You know
I dont want to cry again
I dont want to cry again
Dont want to say goodbye
I dont want to cry again
I dont want to run away
Dont want to race this pain
Ill never see your face again
Oh but how
How can you say
That I didnt try...
You see things in the depths of my eyes
That may loves run dry
No...
We leave to their goodbyes
Ive come to depend on the look in their eyes
My bloods sweet for pain
The wind and the rain bring back words of a song
And they say: wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
Wave goodbye
But you know
I dont want to fall again
Dont want to look this pain
Dont want another friend
Dont want to try again
Dont want to see you hurt
Dont let me see you hurt
I dont want to cry again
Ill never see your face again
How can you say
That I didnt try
You know I did
You see things in the depths of my eyes
That my loves run dry
...so I read to myself:
A chance of a lifetime to see new horizons
On the front page
A black and white picture
Of manhattan skyline
song performed by by A-Ha
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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No Difference (For Hune)
it is in the dissolution of self
that the self is revealed...
in various and innumerable forms,
constant birth and dying,
constant evolving...
yet never constant!
wave after wave,
individual in nature,
yet plural in nature.
ocean, wave, ocean!
the half burnt candle,
and the star exploding,
no difference!
the child playing with sticks and stones,
and the pyramids...
no difference!
the lone man standing on the mountaintop,
and a million starving children...
no difference!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The ocean births the infants
The ocean births the infants
Just like you or me;
The tide tears free umbilici
And blots them, with seaweed.
The ocean bathes the babies
In rivulets green and blue;
And scrubs them gently too, with sand
Just like we might do.
The ocean rocks the children
To sleep, in stormy seas;
Then whirls them down, to deeper depths-
Where they are never seen.
The ocean buries children
Without one word or tear,
And leaves their hapless bodies
To schools of mermaids there.
poem by Patti Masterman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Dead King
EDWARD VII.
Who in the Realm to-day lays down dear life for the sake of a land more dear?
And, unconcerned for his own estate, toils till the last grudged sands have run?
Let him approach. It is proven here
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself, has done.
For to him above all was Life good, above all he commanded
Her abundance full-handed.
The peculiar treasure of Kings was his for the taking:
All that men come to in dreams he inherited waking: --
His marvel of world-gathered armies -- one heart and all races;
His seas 'neath his keels when his war-castles foamed to their places;
The thundering foreshores that answered his heralded landing;
The huge lighted cities adoring, the assemblies upstanding;
The Councils of Kings called in haste to learn how he was minded --
The kingdoms, the Powers, and the Glories he dealt with unblinded.
To him came all captains of men, all achievers of glory
Hot from the press of their battles they told him their story.
They revealed him their lives in an hour and, saluting departed,
Joyful to labour afresh -- he had made them new-hearted.
And, since he weighed men from his youth, and no lie long deceived him,
He spoke and exacted the truth, and the basest believed him.
And God poured him an exquisite wine, that was daily renewed to him,
In the clear-welling love of his peoples that daily accrued to him.
Honour and service we gave him, rejoicingly fearless;
Faith absolute, trust beyond speech and a friendship as peerless.
And since he was Master and Servant in all that we asked him,
We leaned hard on his wisdom in all things, knowing not how we tasked him.
For on him each new day laid command, every tyrannous hour,
To confront, or confirm, or make smooth some dread issue of power;
To deliver true, judgment aright at the instant, unaided,
In the strict, level, ultimate phrase that allowed or dissuaded;
To foresee, to allay, to avert from us perils unnumbered,
To stand guard on our gates when he guessed that the watchmen had slumbered;
To win time, to turn hate, to woo folly to service and, mightily schooling
His strength to the use of his Nations, to rule as not ruling.
These were the works of our King; Earth's peace was the proof of them.
God gave him great works to fulfil, and to us the behoof of them.
We accepted his toil as our right -- none spared, none excused him.
When he was bowed by his burden his rest was refused him.
We troubled his age with our weakness -- the blacker our shame to us!
Hearing his People had need of him, straightway he came to us.
As he received so he gave -- nothing grudged, naught denying,
Not even the last gasp of his breath when he strove for us, dying.
For our sakes, without question, he put from him all that he cherished.
Simply as any that serve him he served and he perished.
All that Kings covet was his, and he flung it aside for us.
Simply as any that die in his service he died for us!
Who in the Realm to-day has choice of the easy road or the hard to tread?
And, much concerned for his own estate, would sell his soul to remain in the sun?
Let him depart nor look on Our dead.
Our King asks nothing of any man more than Our King himself has done.
poem by Rudyard Kipling
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Poetry: Ode to Ocean
Ode to Ocean
Laijon Liu 2010.03.21
O1
With what I must measure you, Mother?
Your infinite depth and weight
When Yahweh hovering above you,
Did He bless you with his years?
Your sacred sovereign blue mass
Contains all the past and future
And the living and dead on earth
Must embrace you as their home.
O2
Vast, your limit stretches into sky
And deep, there are worlds beneath
Continents are sketched out by your hands
Peaks and rivers, you support and collect
Sun gives you warmth and golden glare
And moon draws your mood and tide
Rain and clouds you create and spread
All life on earth are waiting for your bless.
O3
Yet, silence and roars both your voice
Peace and chaos your unpredicted ways
In your realms of shallow and deep
We always taste bitterness and salt
And heroes drift across your worlds
To obtain battles and fall in your toil
All lovers of voyagers on your beach
They kneel down and pray in tears.
O4
Ah, time travels beyond your space
A weary journey that seems eternal
But our prime always too short to last
How we strive for victory and home
Fate, gods’ orders and men’s faith
Chance, gambling luck and wily works
But how can we endure your stillness
Like an old man sitting on the sunset shore.
O5
Yes, the orange sun does rise every dawn
Like he always keeps his promise to you
And by watching this we firmly believe
That you will eventually carry us home
So we held up our staff and called out to heaven
Like we’d already mastered your smashing wave
Then people followed, the book written
To pass down this miracle of unseen.
O6
But could we ever order you to calm down?
Or set our feet of peace to walk upon you?
How much faith we need to divide your depth?
Even Paul got across your void by boat.
And we, only hold steering wheel to adjust
Hope for a good weather or to survive the storm
When a seagull or an isle suddenly appeared
We jump up for joy, and then fear what’s to come.
O7
In you every person searches alone
Since our birth we learn how to swim
One man stretched out his hand toward another
And one girl holding a boy’s hand, waiting for a kiss
Then they embraced; looked into each other’s eyes
Exchanging vows in front of crowd
And walked off the red banquet carpet
To set off for another voyage and to be together at last
O8
And what is waiting for them is the same
As all of us waited since our existence
You, my love; and you, our home.
In you always journey and we start anew
On the board we lie down and look up
The universe is filled with infinite stars
And you rock us like your infant child
Till we sleep, into a world of unknown.
poem by Laijon Liu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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None See The Beauty Of The Other
A thirsty oarsman
Took a gulp of sea water
And spit it on the ocean's face.
The ocean was irritated
And quizzed: what are you doing!
The oarsman quipped:
Why you are roaring
And keep on earth worthless
As being tasting salt
Not worth to drink
To quench a thirsty!
It was the rivers
Running to me in tears
Worried about their parting
With the ravines they loved
That made me bitter with salt!
The ocean quivered and spelt.
The oarsman found
A lot of fauna moving
Up to surface and moving
Down to the heart of ocean.
He retreated with no word
In reply to challenge ocean!
At night, the stars
Talked to the ocean
Of their beauty of shining eyes,
They told the ocean
That they look bright
Of their celestial charisma
While looking on the ocean
The ocean with Moorish eyes
That wide open in surprise
Tell the stars that she
Never had seen the beauty
Of the stars that look down
But her beauty alone
In the deep eyes of the stars!
poem by Vadakkumpurath Ramesan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ulla, Or The Adjuration
'Thou'rt gone!–thou'rt slumb'ring low,
With the sounding seas above thee;
It is but a restless wo,
But a haunting dream to love thee!
Thrice the glad swan has sung,
To greet the spring-time hours,
Since thine oar at parting flung
The white spray up in showers.
There's a shadow of the grave on thy hearth and round thy home;
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–thou'rt surely of them–come!'
'Twas Ulla's voice–alone she stood
In the Iceland summer night,
Far gazing o'er a glassy flood,
From a dark rock's beetling height.
'I know thou hast thy bed
Where the sea-weed's coil hath bound thee;
The storm sweeps o'er thy head,
But the depths are hush'd around thee.
What wind shall point the way
To the chambers where thou'rt lying?
Come to me thence, and say
If thou thought'st on me in dying?
I will not shrink to see thee with a bloodless lip and cheek–
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–thou'rt surely of them–speak!'
She listen'd–'twas the wind's low moan,
'Twas the ripple of the wave,
'Twas the wakening osprey's cry alone,
As it started from its cave.
'I know each fearful spell
Of the ancient Runic lay,
Whose mutter'd words compel
The tempest to obey.
But I adjure not thee
By magic sign or song,
My voice shall stir the sea
By love,–the deep, the strong!
By the might of woman's tears, by the passion of her sighs,
Come to me from the ocean's dead!–by the vows we pledg'd–arise!'
Again she gazed with an eager glance,
Wandering and wildly bright;–
She saw but the sparkling waters dance
To the arrowy northern light.
'By the slow and struggling death
Of hope that loath'd to part,
By the fierce and withering breath
Of despair on youth's high heart;
By the weight of gloom which clings
To the mantle of the night,
By the heavy dawn which brings
Nought lovely to the sight,
By all that from my weary soul thou hast wrung of grief and fear,
Come to me from the ocean's dead–awake, arise, appear!'
Was it her yearning spirit's dream,
Or did a pale form rise,
And o'er the hush'd wave glide and gleam,
With bright, still, mournful eyes?
'Have the depths heard?–they have!
My voice prevails–thou'rt there,
Dim from thy watery grave,
Oh! thou that wert so fair!
Yet take me to thy rest!
There dwells no fear with love;
Let me slumber on thy breast,
While the billow rolls above!
Where the long-lost things lie hid, where the bright ones have their home,
We will sleep among the ocean's dead–stay for me, stay!–I come!'
There was a sullen plunge below,
A flashing on the main,
And the wave shut o'er that wild heart's wo,
Shut,–and grew still again.
poem by Felicia Dorothea Hemans
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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