Idle boats
There lie the idle boats
unattended underbellies
exposed in burning sand
paint chips boiling under an unwatered sun
There lie the idle fishermen
sodden drunk on cheap rot gut
curled in a leaf shade
bonito dreams, marlin sails
There lie the dead fish
rotting and stinking
unable to feed in the churned sea
unable to breath in black sludge
There rises the new land
shiny in high profile beams
news shores, new journey to wealth
graph mountains of increment
poem by Winston T. Gylles
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Related quotes
Fundamental of Liar Chapter CX: Ability
It’s not unable, it’s just not a favor
It’s not unable, it’s just reluctance
It’s not unable, it’s just not my style
It’s not unable, it’s just wrong
It’s not unable, it’s just no time
It’s not unable, it’s just out of place
It’s not unable, it’s just not consideration
It’s not unable, it’s just objection
It’s not unable, it’s just not effective
It’s not unable, it’s just stubbornness
It’s not unable, it’s just not important
It’s not unable, it’s just mercy
poem by Maria Sudibyo
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Misfortune That
Misfortune that
I am unable to know
My mistakes and faults
And you kept me here
In this cage as a
Life prisoner and
Kept me idle.
Misfortune that
Here I am
And with my consent
And I know not
When to go
And where and you
Kept me idle.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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Crash
Lying in bed
Crying your eyes out
Curled in a ball
Nice and tight
Crash today
Seven men died
Seven in a van
One in a car
Bottle of vodka
In the passenger
Seat
Driving unable to maintain
Drifting and veering
Unable to control
Car smash the van
Through the windshield
One goes
Lying on the floor
Others come and
Count dead bodies
One left live in the van
Mind regained and
Awareness received
All is dead
All is dead but you
Later that night
Lying in bed
Crying your eyes out
Curled in a ball
Magnum in hand
Silence has come
Lying in bed
No more crying
Curled in a ball
Lose and feeble
No sound is silent
Eight men died
Today
poem by Tommy D'Attore
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Boats To Build
It's time for a change
I'm tired of that same ol' same
The same ol' words the same ol' lines
The same ol' tricks and the same ol' rhymes
Days precious days
Roll in and out like waves
I got boards to bend I got planks to nail
I got charts to make I got seas to sail
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
It'll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
Sails are just like wings
The wind can make 'em sing
Songs of life songs of hope
Songs to keep your dreams afloat
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
It'll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
Shores distant shores
There's where I'm headed for
Got the stars to guide my way
Sail into the light of day
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
It'll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Boats To Build (feat. Alan Jackson)
It's time for a change
I'm tired of that same ol same
The same ol words the same ol lines
The same ol tricks and the same ol rhymes
Days precious days
Roll in and out like waves
I got boards to bend I got planks to nail
I got charts to make I got seas to sail
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
Itll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
Sails are just like wings
The wind can make em sing
Songs of life songs of hope
Songs to keep your dreams afloat
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
Itll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
Shores distant shores
Theres where I'm headed for
Got the stars to guide my way
Sail into the light of day
I'm gonna build me a boat
With these two hands
Itll be a fair curve
From a noble plan
Let the chips fall where they will
Cause I've got boats to build
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Burning The Boats
The government have announced
That london bridge is to be closed
Under the full moon of may the third
All the light houses and seaside roads
No I never heard I never read in the news
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Tap, tap, tap, birds that sing,
Telephone calls that do not ring,
One, two, three, whats the time ?
Whos that hanging off my line ?
I know that nothing lasts for ever
And Im just waiting for the sun to set
Blowing dust from my loud hailer, on the roof.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
The ministry of co-operation
Are washed and hanging on the line
Theres a million burning questions
To set the thames alight
Now Ive joined an exclusive club
Just by being more than poor
I saw the deputy chairman, on the floor.
Come on tell me, whos this for ?
Lighting the questions and
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats one by one by
Burning the boats one by one
Burning the boats.
song performed by by Madness
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Idler's Song
I sit in the twilight dim
At the close of an idle day,
And I list to the soft sweet hymn,
That rises far away,
And dies on the evening air.
Oh, all day long,
They sing their song,
Who toil in the valley there.
But never a song sing I,
Sitting with folded hands,
The hours pass me by -
Dropping their golden sands -
And I list, from day to day,
To the 'tick, tick, tock'
Of the old brown clock,
Ticking my life away.
And I see the twilight fade,
And I see the night come on,
And then, in the gloom and shade,
I weep for the day that's gone -
Weep and wail in pain,
For the misspent day
That has flown away,
And will not come again.
Another morning beams,
And I forget the last,
And I sit in idle dreams
Till the day over - past.
Oh, the toiler's heart is glad!
When the day is gone
And the night comes on,
But mine is sore and sad.
For I dare not look behind!
No shining, golden sheaves
Can I ever hope to find:
Nothing but withered leaves.
Ah! dreams are very sweet!
But will not please
If only these
I lay at the Master's feet.
And what will the Master say
To dreams and nothing more?
Oh, idler, all the day!
Think, ere thy life is o'er!
And when the day grows late,
Oh, soul of sin!
Will He let you in,
There at the pearly gate?
Oh, idle heart, beware!
On, to the field of strife!
On, to the valley there!
And live a useful life!
Up, do not wait a day!
For the old brown clock,
With its 'tick, tick, tock, '
Is ticking your life away.
poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Senriyu
Boats with lots of fish,
Fishermen' wives are in agony in the shore,
Pirates shot the fishermen!
poem by V.K. Kanniappan
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Paper Boats
Day by day I float my paper boats one by one down the running
stream.
In bid black letters I write my name on them and the name of
the village where I live.
I hope that someone in some strange land will find them and
know who I am.
I load my little boats with shiuli flower from our garden, and
hope that these blooms of the dawn will be carried safely to land
in the night.
I launch my paper boats and look up into the sky and see the
little clouds setting thee white bulging sails.
I know not what playmate of mine in the sky sends them down
the air to race with my boats!
When night comes I bury my face in my arms and dream that my
paper boats float on and on under the midnight stars.
The fairies of sleep are sailing in them, and the lading ins
their baskets full of dreams.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Self Portrait
I can see this world in a different way- from this world I hid for many years.
Riding a ship towards some other galaxy,
Though only inside of my mind-
The rain would pour down upon the real world, and
In the mid winter the snow would fall, but
Lost in some other place in time, I only saw the sun.
I was a rare bird whose wings would carry me
High above the treetops, the mountains and
Even above the highest clouds,
Traveling far away from everybody and everything that was real.
Rain, sleet and hail would fall, though all I could see was a rainbow,
Glistening within the sky, high above the mountains-
I placed no trust in the people who walked upon the ground below,
Although it hardly mattered- I could always converse with those people
Who lived within the kingdom inside of my mind.
I would board a ship, its full sails to the wind,
Carrying me towards the world of my dreams-
Today I see the world in a different way-Now I see reality,
I see reality- hunger, war and people who threaten, and
All I can do is place my hands over my eyes, hoping to shut this cruel world out.
The ship I rode to some other place has been lost somewhere in the sky and
A rare bird, whose wings are now broken, I now see the world under a different light.
Somebody took me and locked me away last night and I have become
A prisoner inside of my own mind-upon that ship with fallen sails
I feel as if I am on a pathway headed towards nowhere-
I place my hands over my eyes. Attempting to hide from all that is real,
Unable to find peace of mind, unable to find my rainbow.
I find myself alone inside of an empty room, with no windows and a door that is locked-
I converse with the voices that speak to me inside of my mind-as
These, nobody can take them away from me and
They are all that is left of my dreams…
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Fish ‘n Chips - Food of Life
Oh how I crave for fish ‘n chips:
Our fine cuisine of world renown.
I dined on such a subtle dish
When QEII received her crown.
Oh how I need some fish ‘n chips;
I'll queue in pouring rain or snow!
What better way to warm my hands,
As soggy chips make fingers glow.
We Brits are famed for culinary finesse,
Like steak ‘n kidney pud no less;
Wondrous tripe; cottage pie;
Bangers and egg in lard to fry!
But fish ‘n chips - the crowning glory -
A dish to trounce the great kebab!
You think I care for chicken masala?
It's cod and chips that grow my flab.
Oh how I yearn for fish ‘n chips,
All poshly wrapped in the Daily Star,
Then caked and drowned in salt ‘n vinegar -
And stinking out my brand new car!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
Food food food food food food food of life
Food food food food food food food of life
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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A Paumanok Picture
TWO boats with nets lying off the sea-beach, quite still,
Ten fishermen waiting--they discover a thick school of mossbonkers--
they drop the join'd seine-ends in the water,
The boats separate and row off, each on its rounding course to the
beach, enclosing the mossbonkers,
The net is drawn in by a windlass by those who stop ashore,
Some of the fishermen lounge in their boats, others stand ankle-deep
in the water, pois'd on strong legs,
The boats partly drawn up, the water slapping against them,
Strew'd on the sand in heaps and windrows, well out from the water,
the green-back'd spotted mossbonkers.
poem by Walt Whitman
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X Can Do
Unable to do
he became able to do,
unable to do again,
able to do again
and unable to do again.
He was unpotentialized,
potentialized,
expotentialized,
repotentialized
and reexpotentialized.
Someone said it was the honey.
poem by Douglas Scotney
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A Camp In The Prussian Forest
I walk beside the prisoners to the road.
Load on puffed load,
Their corpses, stacked like sodden wood,
Lie barred or galled with blood
By the charred warehouse. No one comes to-day
In the old way
To knock the fillings from their teeth;
The dark, coned, common wreath
Is plaited for their grave - a kind of grief.
The living leaf
Clings to the planted profitable
Pine if it is able;
The boughs sigh, mile on green, calm, breathing mile,
From this dead file
The planners ruled for them. . One year
They sent a million here:
Here men were drunk like water, burnt like wood.
The fat of good
and evil, the breast's star of hope
were rendered into soap.
I paint the star I sawed from yellow pine -
And plant the sign
In soil that does not yet refuse
Its usual Jews
Their first asylum. But the white, dwarfed star -
This dead white star -
Hides nothing, pays for nothing; smoke
Fouls it, a yellow joke,
The needles of the wreath are chalked with ash,
A filmy trash
Litters the black woods with the death
of men; and one last breath
Curls from the monstrous chimney . . I laugh aloud
Again and again;
The star laughs from its rotting shroud
Of flesh. O star of men!
poem by Randall Jarrell
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Black coffee and the news
Black coffee and the news
~
I hold the cup in my hands
Burning at my finger tips
My eyes half focused on the television
I’m still half asleep, but alert enough
Watching the news, the world go to hell
Half is pleading poverty, half dying
Somewhere the is a war going on
A young man has just died
The reporter talks of a climbing number
I am unable to digest it just yet
The coffee is extra strong and black
Giving me enough bite to face the day
It lacks what I need to face the news
Which reads out blacker still
I’d change the channel
If only I could find the remote
Looking for some happy news
Something, anything to make me smile
It’s a new day beginning with the old routine
poem by Matthew Holloway
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The Race Of Standing Still
I'm racing racing towards it
Like when I was a small boy
Cutting through a waving field
Decorated by summer sunlight
Unable to remember
Unable to forget
Unable yet at peace
Unable yet scared
I'm racing racing towards it with fear and excitement
They seem unseperable
They seem so far apart
They are my close friends
They are my very ghosts
I'm racing towards it
Holding perfectly still
In the race of standing still
song performed by by Zao from Zao
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tears Never Lies
Unable to talk the tell, i, the whisper is among the trees - Unable to walk the path, where the sun shadows three hundred degrees - Pinpoint the direction, seldom mentioned, why, is that the questioned - Bought by time, the lyric played by age - Thirst before the blow, sand is the seed, not to be sown - The strike, lightning is on her knees, who flowers the bloom to the bees - Crossed by the eyes, only tears never lies - Brought into function, by a heart beat - The deed is the need to feed, then bleed
poem by Unic Cjonr
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The Habit
the habit is an epoxy
attaching a part of my thoughts
to your thoughts
yet somehow there is no spark
of understanding
like a star bursting
and so everyday as the sun rises
killing the shadows of leaves
in my mind
i keep taking track of what happens
a word stands as a boundary
a punctuation marks
a departure
and there are questions like guards
and sentries of
the parapet
there are birds unable to fly from the
hammocks of the mind
there are works unable to come out
from the hollows of the heart
and so the journey to another desert
with the camel and the
carpet starts all over again
there is no end
this habit has no purpose but to satisfy
what i do not know
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Unable To Keep From Looking Back
Unable to face facts...
Is an unfortunate mindset to have,
When all foundations of the past...
Are being revealed to have cracks.
Every question one can ask,
Can today be traced to the truth.
And every denial one offers back,
Slips from a validity needlessly pursued.
The few amongst the many,
Feeling to be at peace with themselves...
Without the need for traps,
Also have a need to isolate from those...
Who stubbornly refuse,
To accept with belief these times we are at.
Unable to face facts.
Unable to keep from looking back.
Unable to shake away hours from a yesterday.
And...
Unable to say a grip held tightly,
Begins to fade and to drift away...
From one's existence.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Idle in June
She dares not let the world hear her speak,
She's getting thin and looking meek,
A grey hair is splitting in her widows peak
She lays idle in the month of June.
Her hands are cracked and stained from mud,
although she bathes in lathered suds
There's a little of me inside her blood
She lays idle in the month of June
She carries child at her old age,
She's stuck inside her fleshy cage,
Her father birthed her insidious rage
She lays idle in the month of June.
They locked her in a cell up high,
The crime of seeking suicide
Some women they are born only to die,
She lays idle in the month of June.
One day, I know, I'll see her soon,
How I loathe the month of June,
We'll met again come the next new moon,
I won't forget her, idle in the month of June.
poem by H.J. Shreeve
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