On Our Broken Boat The Harsh Light Will Not Break
.
'Others the same - others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, What is it then between us? ...What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? ' - Walt Whitman
On our broken boat the harsh light will not break.
We see our day clearly as we can.
Tell the night, now it's here to stay, that
once I glanced the sleeping youth, legs against the wall,
felt a pall descend upon us here,
this boat lancing the bay waters darkly.
Some to books then, the priest to his sad, effeminate stare.
I can no longer envy those of the black cloth
so bend and tie the shoe.
We shod our feet against what long loss of motion,
eyes downcast or boldly returning the stare?
Beneath each eye there's some familiar look we refuse.
We map our way to sleep in the palms of shy or frightened hands.
.
poem by Warren Falcon
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Related quotes
Upon This Wide Water, On Our Broken Boat - Two For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985 Manhattan
'On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are
more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.'
- Walt Whitman, from 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry'
1
Upon this wide water, Whitman's bay, wandering
outward toward Eastward windings -
Upon this white-starred charted bay we ride
gray with midnight leaning toward the Towers**
distant growing, stalking, yellow and glowing,
mimicing the stars -
Our eyes stare tearing,
seawind pushes lids to slits.
We glimmer. Lights shimmer
ahead and above,
and still we cry -
the wind.
The ferry, furtive, floats the edge of Manhatta.
There's power pushing against the bow,
riptides to the rear, but we go on,
approach sleepily, enamored of gin and
the beds we will make again and again
pulling sheets tighter. This stretching water
safe-keeps the light of eyes and the city there-
Upon the water's wide skirt one will, quiet,
lift up a hand to the spray, sway for love,
and pray for the world -
A dark tern unfurls from the sail
of a starboard yacht, flirts once with
the silhouette extended upon the wave,
then leaves, an under-turning rail or rudder
sinking in the ferrier's wake.
Each night there must be one, out there,
on the deck, supplicating in boozy tongue,
oozing heart-love all over, spurning the way
things go down in the world, cheap spindrift
the cranes know of, dipping their bloated beaks
to the waves. And he must dip his head, braying,
with his hands motioning to the night -
Away! Away!
[**World Trade Towers]
2
'Others the same - others who look back on me because I look’d forward to them, What is it then between us? ...What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us? ' - Walt Whitman
On our broken boat the harsh light will not break.
We see our day clearly as we can.
Tell the night, now it's here to stay, that
once I glanced the sleeping youth, legs against the wall,
felt a pall descend upon us here,
this boat lancing the bay waters darkly.
Some to books then, the priest to his sad, effeminate stare.
I can no longer envy those of the black cloth
so bend and tie the shoe.
We shod our feet against what long loss of motion,
eyes downcast or boldly returning the stare?
Beneath each eye there's some familiar look we refuse.
We map our way to sleep in the palms of shy or frightened hands.
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Game of Stare
There’s a boy with his fellow
I caught his eyes with a wander
Now the game has been played
Now you have been challenged
You better asked my name
Before anyone came
But you only stare, stare, stare
Like I annoy your safety ring
Like you can’t even think
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I lose you something
Something you can’t even win
There’s boy in the dance floor
I catch his eyes, he comes closer
Now the game is replayed
Now you better watch out
You better take me out
Before someone calls you coward
Cause you only stare, stare, stare
Like you never see me in dress
Like no one else who dares
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I steal you something
Something you can’t even think
There’s a boy in the park
He makes me catch his eyes
Now the game is forward
Now you don’t want to break up
You better have a word
Before you loose your hold
And you only stare, stare, stare
Like a puppy wants a bone
Like you’ll be lost if I’m gone
You only stare, stare, stare
Like I can give you something
Something you think you can’t win
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Serene
Calmness of the pale blue light,
An empty boat in line of sight.
Floats gently in the breezeless air,
Reflections of trees lay bare
Mirror finish, Cool blue waters,
Yellow, Brown, Black boat colors.
Serene feeling the longer I stare.
Do you receive what I share?
The Boat
i am drawing
this situation, this is the boat, it has four arms spreading
on the wide face of the sea
these arms shall caress
and make love with its bounty
some waters sound a slush
like the sand announcing your safe and soft arrival
the boat has eyes too
just like us inside it
its gaze spreading the vision of where we are going
the boat looks upon us with envy
we are the lovers inside its mouth
the boat slides on calm seas
this peaceful twilight
when the seagulls have gone away
here, we make love again
the boat compromising with a restful state this time
everything is so warm
the fires in our hearts
the boat surely understands something that burns
yet so unconsumed
undiminished
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Upon This Wide Water, For Staten Island Ferry, circa 1985, Manhattan
.
'On the ferry-boats the hundreds and hundreds that cross,
returning home, are more curious to me than you suppose,
And you that shall cross from shore to shore years hence are
more to me, and more in my meditations, than you might suppose.'
- Walt Whitman, from 'Crossing Brooklyn Ferry'
1
Upon this wide water, Whitman's bay, wandering
outward toward Eastward windings -
Upon this white-starred charted bay we ride
gray with midnight leaning toward the Towers**
distant growing, stalking, yellow and glowing,
mimicing the stars -
Our eyes stare tearing,
seawind pushes lids to slits.
We glimmer. Lights shimmer
ahead and above,
and still we cry -
the wind.
The ferry, furtive, floats the edge of Manhatta.
There's power pushing against the bow,
riptides to the rear, but we go on,
approach sleepily, enamored of gin and
the beds we will make again and again
pulling sheets tighter. This stretching water
safe-keeps the light of eyes and the city there-
Upon the water's wide skirt one will, quiet,
lift up a hand to the spray, sway for love,
and pray for the world -
A dark tern unfurls from the sail
of a starboard yacht, flirts once with
the silhouette extended upon the wave,
then leaves, an under-turning rail or rudder
sinking in the ferrier's wake.
Each night there must be one, out there,
on the deck, supplicating in boozy tongue,
oozing heart-love all over, spurning the way
things go down in the world, cheap spindrift
the cranes know of, dipping their bloated beaks
to the waves. And he must dip his head, braying,
with his hands motioning to the night -
Away! Away!
[**World Trade Towers]
poem by Warren Falcon
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Slow Boat To China
Lets take a slow boat to china. leave from south carolina
Lets take our time and go the long way
On a junk boat to thailand with your hand in mine hand
I sure hope we got something to say
Well, this old boats go no sail so wont you please hold our mail-
For awhile
Thanks anyway pal but the suez canal -
Aint our style
Lets take a slow boat to china and maybe well find a
New way to play those same old games
The stars just might show us and the captain will know us
Shake our hands and call us by our first names
Well send a postcard to grandpa of a vase or rickshaw-
He dont care
Well buy mom a kimono or maybe well just phone her -
When were there
Well drink sake at night beneath the soft harbor lights-
On the bay
Well build house on the hill next to shangri-li bill -
And well stay
Lets take that slow boat to china (lets go)
Slow boat to china (real slow)
Slow boat to china (lets go)
Slow boat to china (real slow)
Lets go real slow
song performed by by John Prine
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Paper Boat On A Murky River
on your hand is a paper boat
you made last night
on a rainy day like this
you put on a gray rain coat
the river rises
perfect for your scheme
you put the boat gently
on the brown water
white paper boat
carried by this murkiness
your hands push
the paper boat leaves
tonight you sleep on
the wooden floor
it is mahogany brown and you
become the paper boat
sailing inside your dream
the floor becomes the big river
your thoughts become the wind
your eyes become two moons
the room is as dark as the night
the dream is so alive like a mother's song.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Downstream
Took a boat sunday, down by the sea
It just felt so nice, you and me
We didnt have a problem or a care
And all around was silence, everywhere
You are the reason I was born
Be with you through all seasons
Ill always hear you when you call
Well keep the love light shining
Through each night and day
A lonely life behind me
Oh what a change youve made
So down here on the ocean we will stay
Went through a lot of changes
Turned a lot of pages
When I took a boat sunday
To know you as I know you now
That is all I need
And we will get along somehow
If we both believe
So down here on the ocean we will stay
Went through a lot of changes
Turned a lot of pages
When I took a boat sunday
song performed by by Supertramp
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Different Sky Is Waiting
We’ve been in the rain so long
That our eyes are sore and red;
When joy is missing,
We gaze down too long at our feet
As we slowly walk through the city,
But there must be a different sky waiting
Offering love and inspiration.
Beneath these yellow factory skies,
Even the street lights look sadly dim,
Like our spiritual light within
Blurred by an affectionless life.
Things began to change
When I met you in a small bar
Not far from the school where you teach;
I saw Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass
Easing out of your purse,
I knew we had to talk.
As we spoke over drinks
In the early evening,
I felt loneliness begin to lift
Like dark persistent clouds
Being pushed aside by sunlight,
As if Walt Whitman were sending us
Prayers mingled with lilacs.
Indeed, there is a different sky waiting,
Azure blue and dazzling,
Inviting flowers to bloom
On romantic avenues
When two people finally find each other.
In my mind I have already seen
You smile in a summer dress
Beneath a different sky welcoming our love.
poem by Uriah Hamilton
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Burial At Sea
Into the purple sea, feet first
along the whale's black back
stuck with barnacles and whorls of worms
slips the man from the boat
who used be a priest, then a rabbi
buttoning his macintosh.
Kersplash!
The whale glides off, laughing and spouting.
The boat drifts off, the sun comes out,
the atolls drift and shift, the heavens popsicle green.
'Isn't it lovely, ' sputters the man
(who has lost his stove pipe) emerging
back in air. 'Isn't it lovely.'
poem by Morgan Michaels
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To A Common Prostitute
To a Common Prostitute
BE composed--be at ease with me--I am Walt Whitman, liberal and lusty
as Nature;
Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you;
Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to
rustle for you, do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for
you.
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment--and I charge you that you
make preparation to be worthy to meet me,
And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come.
Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that you do not
forget me.
poem by Walt Whitman
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Variation On The Word Sleep
I would like to watch you sleeping,
which may not happen.
I would like to watch you,
sleeping. I would like to sleep
with you, to enter
your sleep as its smooth dark wave
slides over my head
and walk with you through that lucent
wavering forest of bluegreen leaves
with its watery sun & three moons
towards the cave where you must descend,
towards your worst fear
I would like to give you the silver
branch, the small white flower, the one
word that will protect you
from the grief at the center
of your dream, from the grief
at the center I would like to follow
you up the long stairway
again & become
the boat that would row you back
carefully, a flame
in two cupped hands
to where your body lies
beside me, and as you enter
it as easily as breathing in
I would like to be the air
that inhabits you for a moment
only. I would like to be that unnoticed
& that necessary.
poem by Margaret Atwood
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Light Years
You found me
Drifting,
Big motion like a bird,
Strangest song I ever heard.
Now, now that youre here
Stay with me light years,
Light years, light years.
No paper, no ring
In the trees where frogs sing.
I brought lilies for you,
Think of all the things were gonna do.
Now, now that youre here,
Stay with me light years.
I give you a thousand hours,
Making love in the tall sunflowers.
I give you a thousand feet
Down where the waters deep.
Sleepy storm, sleepy head,
Limb for limb on my bed.
Now, now that youre here,
Stay with me light years,
Light years, light years,
Light years, stay with me,
Stay with me, stay.
song performed by by Heather Nova
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Serene
A sea of cloth on an early morning
A wooden boat afloat
The cloth of blue and gray clouds
Still touching
Hands and Lips
A man wearing a straw hat
A woman on green skirt watching
Him sail back,
A child cradled on her arms
Serene in sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Boat and The Sea
I will tell you, my Dear
Story of the Boat and the Sea
'Since the unknown time
The Boat heard the call from the Sea
Wings of Gull, blue waves
Took Boat traveled everywhere, all ways
The Boat's soul's filled with hopes
And the Sea's boundless love
Boat went far, further no tiresome
The Sea was still far...so far
Those nights the moon was gentle
The sea was like a girl, who's little
She whispered, she sent her thoughts
Round the boatside, waves elapsed
Sometimes, causeless
The Sea, its waves, pourred impetuously in the Boat
(Because of Love, for all times, ever was just imovable?)
Only the Boat understood
How boundless the Sea was
Only the Boat knew
Where the Boat went to, back to
The days without meeting
The sea was with white head, with missing
The days without gathering
The Boat was broken - crack
If already seperated from the Boat
The Sea only remained the wind and waves
...up and down, a craze'
If having to be separated from you
I just only remain storms
(composer: Xuân Quỳ nh, traslator: Hanh My Nguyen)
poem by Hanh My Nguyen
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Naked Girl And Mirror
This is not I. I had no body once-
only what served my need to laugh and run
and stare at stars and tentatively dance
on the fringe of foam and wave and sand and sun.
Eyes loved, hands reached for me, but I was gone
on my own currents, quicksilver, thistledown.
Can I be trapped at last in that soft face?
I stare at you in fear, dark brimming eyes.
Why do you watch me with that immoderate plea-
'Look under these curled lashes, recognize
that you were always here; know me-be me.'
Smooth once-hermaphrodite shoulders, too tenderly
your long slope runs, above those sudden shy
curves furred with light that spring below your space.
No, I have been betrayed. If I had known
that this girl waited between a year and a year,
I'd not have chosen her bough to dance upon.
Betrayed, by that little darkness here, and here
this swelling softness and that frightened stare
from eyes I will not answer; shut out here
from my own self, by its new body's grace-
for I am betrayed by someone lovely. Yes,
I see you are lovely, hateful naked girl.
Your lips in the mirror tremble as I refuse
to know or claim you. Let me go-let me be gone.
You are half of some other who may never come.
Why should I tend you? You are not my own;
you seek that other-he will be your home.
Yet I pity your eyes in the mirror, misted with tears;
I lean to your kiss. I must serve you; I will obey.
Some day we may love. I may miss your going, some day,
though I shall always resent your dumb and fruitful years.
Your lovers shall learn better, and bitterly too,
if their arrogance dares to think I am part of you.
poem by Judith Wright
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A Cloudy Imagination
The lingering cumulus clouds
imperceptibly changed their shapes
while I sat below discerning
these metamorphosed spectacles.
My imagination went wild
as they drifted across the sky.
It seemingly was like my mind
was orchestrating their transmuting.
I glanced at one that took the shape
of the poet Walt Whitman's head;
another like Sylvia Plath;
and yet another looked like Poe.
I glanced back at the Whitman cloud
but it changed into Erato.
I took my pad from my pocket
and began to write this poem.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Sun Goes Down (Livin' It Up)
Though I live on the edge time is on my side
all the doors to my life are open wide
just as long as the wheels keep on turning 'round
I will live for the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
is it a crazy notion?
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
I don't wanna go to war, I don't wanna go to war
I said I know what I want and I don't wanna go war - do you follow me?
I saw a soldier standing in a bar
looked so tired he'd come so far
he said "I need to love someone, before they drop the atom bomb"
there's a girl at the back making eyes at me
and her hair long and black is a sight to see
but I get kind of scared when love's around
I just live for the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
is it a false emotion?
living it up, living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
so I'm a-taking you out but I'm a-faking
I'm married to the beat
but to the music I gave the heart I could have given you
still there's something 'bout the way that you move
and the way that people stare it's the shock of the new
I want my friends to see me standing next to you
the sun goes down . . .
time is on my side
I don't care what they say I'll enjoy the ride
but I get kind of scared when I turn around
so I'll stay with the groove 'til the sun goes down
living it up
living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forward motion
ooh - watch her dance
there must be one like her in every club in every town
but I don't mind if that the way she wants to be
there's something 'bout her that reminds me of me
she's my soulmate - we'll be together 'til the sun goes down
the sun goes down
living it up
living it up
I can feel it
living it up
I got forwand motion
song performed by by Level 42
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Windows
Through the windows you see so much.
Revealing love with the lightest touch.
Through them you see so much truth daren't be spoke.
I sit and look through the windows.
Seeing through all the innuendos.
Reveling in the sweet cresendo.
As I stare through the windows.
The boughs break, and in my heart I celebrate.
As I realize it will not break.
For hours through those windows I could stare.
Worlds a plenty are there to share.
In awe and splendor I now stare.
Through those windows a bright sun glares.
How much longer do I dare,
to stare through these windows that show me things so fair?
poem by Michael McParland
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Burning Down
]from the back of my neck, oh oh oh
Wired a glass jaw, oh oh
Plantation burning your boat is coming in
Strum your jews-harp, youre reeking gin
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Johnny mike is reading in the yard
His storys timely, oh oh oh
What river is it anyway, radio
Not in a boat, in your ear
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
You pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
Hes cooking in the woods, a brush fire in your neck
Feeling mighty mighty, oh oh oh
You can pick your island in the sun
Take your island off hes got a gun
Running water in a sinking boat
Going under but theyve got your goat
Burning down - my hands are tied my feet are bound
Burning down - cant you see that my hands are bound
song performed by by REM
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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