July 9th – One of the most serene scenes on any waterway is the maneuvering of a vessel over the surface. For this prompt, write about a boat of some sort, a tugboat, sailboat, a catamaran, cruise ship or whatever boats you float. You’re the captain, or a passenger. You might even be the boat. But don’t sail on today without leaving your poem on our shore.
***
KEEPING UP WITH THE WAVES
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
The Queen Of All The Sea
She is the queen of all the sea,
And we are just her humble slaves;
Without a doubt, we all can see
She is the queen of all the sea;
Her sides are painted white and green,
And trimmed with bright blue of the waves;
She is the queen of all the sea,
And we are just her humble slaves.
© Copyright Erin Kay Hope – 2013
Love how the repetition moves your poem along, Erin…
Very nice!! I love your descriptions, Erin and the form…what is this one again? Is it the triolet? Excellent work my friend…
It is, indeed.
Comes off the tongue like a song – a fun one to read aloud.
I’ll have to revisit that one…it makes for a tight little poignant verse. 🙂
Love this, Erin. Many of my friends feel this way about their boats. This could almost make a sea chantey.
Great use of repetition here, Erin. Well done!
Nicely done, Erin!
SAILS SET IN THE WINDS OF CHANGE
Smooth sailing on an azure lake,
tides and time waiting for no one reason
to change the course we manipulate.
We are the captains of logic, charting
the stars for the safe route home.
But as the swell begins to toss your
weary hull, an instance comes to fore
that all that seems tranquil, is now
turbulent and unrelenting, preventing you
from the completion of your journey.
In your thinking you order the lifeboats,
not giving up the ship, and not going down
with out a fight, tonight and every night.
You stand determined, hand on the rudder
and tacking a hard starboard course angling
directly into the storm that batters your horizon.
Catching your sail, it turns you to your heart’s
safe harbor, a lifeline tethered and strong,
sailing right along to the sanctuary of your soul.
© Copyright Walter J Wojtanik – 2013
“Catching your sail, it turns you to your heart’s/safe harbor…” Lovely capture, my friend!!
“your heart’s safe harbor” just grabbed at mine. Lovely, Walt.
This is breath-taking writing.
Oh yes, absolutely.
Wow …
All of your sound play and rhymes just warms the poetical heart…so much to love about this poem, Walt!!
“charting
the stars for the safe route home.”
I’m fond of that one. 🙂
smooth sailing- becomes turbulent -You stand determined-sailing right along to the sanctuary of your soul. Beautiful.
Wonderful, Walt. Felt like I was on the high seas!
TITANIC
“Our God himself could never sink this ship.”
And so the play began. All players, crew
and passengers, felt sheltered in the new
and glistening liner’s hull; the maiden trip
would surely show that men and steel could grip
the waves and sally forth to rendezvous
with squalls and storms, taming them through and through
and rendering the ocean but a pip.
The winter North Atlantic played its part:
it masked an April face with zephyred tact
and proffered swells a landsman could not dread.
That final night it fully showed its art:
glittering stars witnessed the curtain act
as lookouts called, “Iceberg right ahead.”
Rich scene gathered in brilliantly, William…love it!
Man’s conceit shown well here.
Such good phrases throughout–“masked an April face with zephyred tact”, “the ocean but a pip” grab me.
I wondered if someone would write about the Titanic. Nicely done!
Excellent, so descriptive.
UNSEAWORTHY
In a bit of a boat on a turbulent sea,
I ride bounding adrift with no harbor in sight
to dispense with relief and some rest in the lee.
In a bit of a boat on a turbulent sea,
I am fearful this ocean will yet render me
yet another lost soul when the day fades to night.
In a bit of a boat on a turbulent sea
I ride: bounding, adrift, with no harbor in sight.
copyright 2013, William Preston
I love the repetition…perfect for this and what a line! I enjoyed this, William!
In a bit of a boat on a turbulent sea, Oh, that rings so true.
The anapestic meter and rhyme scheme just make this dance! Got a horn pipe?
Nope. Just three sheets to the wind.
I love this completely. Must be one of my favourites today.
I agree! This needs to find a home.
[…] LIFE IS A BEACH – BOATS […]
Setting my small boat out on the water of the world early today…I hope to be back with time to wander the shores! :)’s to all in this seafaring garden. 🙂
You’re such a sweetie!
♥ Thank you, Marie!!
Nimbly We Float
~
Hide stretched taut,
timber wrought skeleton,
empty cavernous body,
holds me…
carries me gracefully
over silent dark water;
we move together as one.
Our reflection slides across the surface,
ripples to meet pond lily
and indigo-iridescent dragon fly
perched on a single strand of grass.
This piece of history and me,
we glide in unison;
skin, bones and hollow space within
void but for each new breath,
hide and this ligneous uninhabited cavity
void but for my spirit refreshed.
We’re joined elementally
by hands that have made for centuries
the beautifully-lithe
wooden-kayak.
~
Copyright © Hannah Gosselin 2013
Another piece of breath-taking writing. Superb.
I smile in gratitude, William…humbled, thank you.
That feeling is mutual. Thanks for all your kind observations.
You’re so welcome.
I agree, William. You paint a lovely picture, Hannah.
Thank you, Jane!!
I think the first line should be, “Flesh stretched taut,” as I already used “hide,” near the end where it plays nicely with “lithe,” thinking aloud here. 😉
(sigh) So gorgeous.
Thank you, Misky!! 🙂
You are endless beauty. (And yes, I typed exactly what I meant to say.) ❤
This brings such warmth to my heart, Marie…I’m so lucky to be here…it’s a special garden. Thank you for you, your presence is unmatchable. ♥
WHEN THE SAILS COLLAPSE
At last
I realize
that truth is still the truth:
my boat still so small; the sea, still
so wide.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Yes, I’m familiar with that feeling. Nicely done. 🙂
Yes, VERY nicely done.
THE CAPTAIN DEALS WITH HORSEPLAY ALOFT
Seamen
who flout the sea
must learn respect, and so
the punishment must fit the crime:
keelhaul.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Oh my goodness! I had to look up “keelhaul.” Yikes!!
[…] Written for PB “Boats” […]
HOW TO FIGHT THAT SINKING FEELING
Today I don’t envy a fish,
don’t wish for a cool wet life,
don’t wish to be a toad
with a croak in my throat,
because today
I’m afloat
like a boat.
I like this Misky. Light almost frivolous but grounded by truth.
Yes. indeed. I’ve got that feeling, indeed.
I know that feeling. Nice one, Misk.
Ha! Nice!
Love it!
The Dory
Sometimes we sailed the Pacific so blue
Where we found islands, deserted and new
The O’Riley’s back yard was our sea of green grass
(The dory was left there in place of the cash
Their renters had owed them when they moved far away)
Perhaps we would meet them on the ocean some day.
Or maybe Lake Erie which was not very far
To get there we needed a truck or a car
The O’Riley’s had neither, they traveled by bus
Voyages in the dory were taken by us
The neighborhood children, both girls and boys
We were captains and pirates, we made too much noise
The dory was old, rot grew in its boards
Which we pulled out and waved them like swords.
We captains prepared for a pirate attack
The pirates were boys with a flag that was black
The battle was fierce, but the dory was old
Too many loose boards, it could never be sold
Deep in the grass it sat until it sank
From too many pirates who were walking the plank.
A great tribute and story, Marian.
Yes, excellent, and the word, “dory”, makes it feel timeless.
Lovely, Marian! A very different style for you, and you manage it well.
Nicely done, Marian!
OH, Yes. Have not heard “dory” in a long time….Brings back memories of great adventures. 🙂
Fishing Boat
Somewhere in early morning there’s a lake
and you in solitude sit quiet, bound
in thought as drifting fog muffles all sound
hushed, awed, before the Holy you quake
in reverent bent of mind and frame you’d gone
not only to fish but recharge, renew
all things in life that had become askew
and found peace and contentment in the dawn.
This is how I see you in my mind’s eye
in a boat on smooth lake with rod in hand
all cares, all pain gone, what remains is peace.
The fog lifted, you’ve said the last goodbye
and if true there be a heavenly strand
this then is where you will have found release.
Oh, Debi. This is what I hope for my Pa, the fishingest fella around. What a lovely prayer.
Such power in quiet words and images.
Indeed.
Indeed…
I like the way this looks on my blog if you want to take a peek.
http://30x30challenges.blogspot.com/2013/07/poetic-bloomings-fishing-boat.html
How about a Luc Bat?
A View of Ha Long Bay
Small fishing boats are flung
across the bay like strung clay beads.
Soft azure water leads
the eye to measure bleeds of blues
as sky meets wave—mixed hues
of sunset as we lose the day.
We give our hearts away
to God’s ink on a bay, hallowed.
That deserves a WOW.
Yes, in CAPITALS, italics, and bold.
That one is a treasure.
Oh, so beautiful…love the closing, perfect!
WOW. I agree with Misk … a treasure.
WOW…
Good form for this wonderful poem!
Boating Date
I fancy that you’ll row, there facing me,
as I sit dragging fingers in the lake
and look into dark shadows under trees
along the shore where sunning turtles make
the rocks and logs look jeweled with their shells
and little fish rise near them, taking air.
I fancy in the depth of lake there dwells
a depth of feeling that we two can share.
Your chest is mighty as you push and pull;
your eyes grow dark with effort and we smile,
imagining a private spot, a lull,
where fancy can meet fancy for a while.
Instead, we board a speedboat, roar and go.
You fancy speed; I fancy deep and slow.
This is so evocative. Sexy, too.
Oh. My. Word.
So many ways to look at this piece. So much imagery, mood, and meaning. “Evocative” is the perfect word.
Another WOW…
Intriguing, Jane!
[…] ….. Written for Poetic Asides, Day 9. […]
Kayak
We are pal
-indromes, you and
I,
buoyant in our gliding,
deciding direction only
by woo of wind and wave.
I save my most sacred
moments for this watery
skin, this silent skim
along mirrored glaze.
I am indigo veins
and forward flow,
whispered sea
-crets only you know.
You spill me
into sunrise
and don’t tell a soul.
.
Magical phrasing here: “woo of wind and wave”; “spill me into sunrise”; “silent skim along mirrored glaze”; well, the whole thing, really.
Yup, agreed!! Magical…I often describe “De,” poetry with that word…it so fits!! 🙂
It certainly does. And I would recognize De’s magical voice anywhere.
‘You spill me into sunrise’ could well be one of the best poetic phrases I have ever heard.
The Wind in her Sails
Hot breezes give her rise,
picking up speed
she blows by everyone else
without pause, giving no quarter
gaining momentum,
until a shift in directions
deflates her sails;
flustered, she musters her ropes
to follow,
gaining momentum
once again.
Wonderful words here: the change from smoothness to activity is well captured in “flustered, she musters”.
There’s danger in being last on the list: comments tend to get misplaced….
Excellence, Michelle!
Wonderful words here: the change from smoothness to activity is well captured in “flustered, she musters”.
Life is a Beach : “I am a Boat?”
My boat’s adrift; her sails have lost the wind.
I need a captain from some distant shore
who’ll pull up anchor; ship exotic blend
from this frame’s hold; make room for more!
My boat has ample sail and she is trim.
Her dreams have color and a high romance
of sea and wind and frothy water’s brim
across a ship that cherishes the dance.
But all is silent ghost and lethargy;
I’m caught inside a muggy, foggy tide.
With no direction on her compass, sees
her stern into a darker water glide.
Oh, drifting boat; in agony, proceed!
Or else this poet; landlubber, will bleed!
(had a little trouble with my muse today, lol. Could not set sail)
Your muse seems to be speaking quite fluently, Jacqueline.
I especially love “Her dreams have color and a high romance
of sea and wind and frothy water’s brim
across a ship that cherishes the dance”
Gorgeous!
Thanks, ME. Perhaps I should just leave my ‘muse’ alone; get out of her way and let her take the helm, lol.
Agreed!
I hope to be back with a a new offering…in the meantime, here’s something I wrote about a year ago that fits here…
ABANDON(ED) SHIP
in my marrow
I feel it,
link after link
is loosed,
your heart
no longer anchored
to mine, as mine
sinks
in your wake
I’m left
to navigate
the choppy seas,
as I pitch,
unbalanced,
not knowing what
is in store
the deck
is cleared,
I stand alone;
no one beside me
at the rail, no one
at my stern;
no one waiting
at port
2012-08-05
P. Wanken
The short lines, short words, and even the shapes of the stanzas echo the choppy seas.” I think this is impressive.
Thanks, William. It was written with 12 words from one of The Sunday Whirl prompts…but also fit with what I was “needing to write” at the time. (I love it when a poem comes together.) BTW…it has also been recorded by Iain Kemp to be featured as one of his guest podcasts later this summer. 🙂
Wonderful! Paula, I think this is one of your all-time best.
WOW!
Thank you, Marie… xo
Great choppy take on this one. Paula!
Thanks, Sara. 🙂
Hope its ok to post a re-run, but I felt this fit the prompt.
Wrote this about a month ago, to the day, while watching Mom go Home. Many of you posted condolences, hugs prayers and just kind words – and I thank you all so much for that!
Mom’s Final Voyage
By David De Jong
June 8, 2013
——————————
With immeasurable love for our mother,
Who loved all, and gave all, so very much.
Take reward in God’s abundant blessings,
From this moment, and forever more.
For as we humbly watch you leave this place
We see His reflection upon your face
——————————
A tall ship marks the horizon afar,
Precious cargo in alabaster jar.
Masts of Cedar from Lebanon’s first choice,
Fashioned and hewn by our dear Savior’s voice.
Its sails; full, set, glistening white,
A shadow cast beneath spectrums bright.
As it travels constant, sure, and steady,
Its passenger waits a-shore, full ready.
Her crew of angels, mastering the helm,
Choruses ringing, heard throughout the realm.
Sunlight; appears dim, the moon; empty, dark,
Comparing radiance, this heaven’s ark.
For heaven she sails, all seven winds drawn,
Eternity, wisped on the wings of dawn.
Slowly the horizon swallows it whole,
Angel’s voices rejoicing, replacing the dole,
God’s choir – welcoming home – this saintly soul.
Yes, David … of course you may repost this wonderful, beautiful, poignant piece. And yes, it certainly does fit.
It makes me think of an old hymn that I can’t quite recall, but includes the following:
“But just think of stepping on shore, and finding it Heaven
Of touching a hand, and finding it God’s
Of breathing new air, and finding it celestial
Of waking up in glory, and finding it home. ”
*sigh*
Thanks Marie, don’t think I’ve ever heard that one – but I like it..
Paddle On
The beer is in the back,
snacks are on the seat,
our friends are in the middle
putting up their feet.
The canoe drifts lazily
our paddling is crappy,
but we are having quite a blast
and all of us are happy.
A carefree, giggling canoe trip
with people I adore,
an afternoon of comradeship
along the river’s shore.
No river is quite long enough
with all its twists and bends.
I wish my life was like this boat,
that carries all my friends.
Sounds like great fun, Linda!
Love this happy piece.
FISHING THE GULF
Saltwater fishing
Wishing for something to tug my line
Divine blue waters hold rich cache
That thrash and splash, while just below
The tidal flow – a manatee!
And he, bigger than the boat we’re in
And smarter than we, apparently,
This herbivore chills out off shore
And lacks for zilch as we aspire to filch
His sapphire abode,
Bestowed by our Creator.
I love reading this; the internal rhyming gives it a musical and enjoyable feel.
Love that sapphire abode!
Granny’s Party Barge
Granny called it her party barge,
when she talked Pop into trading
the ski boat for a pontoon.
The grown kids groaned, bemoaning
their last chance for escape
when the family met at the lake.
The hot dogs and ice cream,
the watermelon and barbecue
were enough for the smaller kids.
Those in their teens weren’t happy
anywhere among their elders,
least of all on a slow boat with Grandma.
She didn’t seem to note the discontent,
so happy with her investment,
blithely unaware they only humored her.
Until John found it just right for fishing,
and Reese sold the girls his age on tanning
out in the lake with him, away from the children.
Then Ben and Jeff made up a corny song
about the pontoon, naughty lyrics they never
let their parents or grandparents hear.
And soon the grownups pulled rank,
grumbling that the kids had taken over
and their time had come, strapping on vests.
Meanwhile, Granny and Pop cleaned up the mess,
chunked watermelon rind into the lake, baited hooks
for all the smaller kids. Their plan had worked.
Nancy, this whole story is just so entirely “family” and GREAT fun!
Amen, with emphasis on story. Loved the tongue-in-cheek aspect of it.
Granny and Pop are (were) just plain smart!
Sail On
He stands at the helm
In total control of the ship
Waters calm like glass
No breeze blowing
Nevertheless the ship sails
Without engine
And turning propeller
Without sail
Billowing full
Without effort
The ship sails on
Captain in charge
Course set sure
Into eternity
Sail on
© 2013 Earl Parsons
Sail on, Earl!
Marie Elena
The Captain
Like a ship on a mission
We sail through our lives
From cradle to grave
Through the calm waters
And the storms in between
At the helm we stand
The Captain at our side
He allows us to steer
If we feel the need
We oft drift off course
Yet He says not a word
Lest we ask for His help
Which He gladly provides
Then we’re back at the helm
Drifting hither and yon
While the Captain stands by
Silently watching
Waiting for the moment
We request His assistance
Hoping on hope
That there will come the day
When we finally give in
And let Him take the wheel
As it should have always been
After all
He’s the Captain
© 2013 Earl Parsons
“He allows us to steer
If we feel the need
We oft drift off course
Yet He says not a word
Lest we ask for His help
Which He gladly provides”
Love it.
Marie Elena
Amen.
Little Row Boat
Round and Round in our little row boat
Oh, we have fun, but we don’t go anywhere
At least we two can stay afloat
Round and Round in our little row boat
And look at how much time we devote
Okay, we’re not so big on finesse and flair
Round and Round in our little row boat
Oh, we have fun, but we don’t go anywhere
What a delightful triolet!
Such a sweet piece for children!
Marie Elena
A SHIP IN PARTNERSHIP
The vessel
sails;
waters support.
copyright 2013, William Preston
Staten Island Ferry
If you catch the Staten Island ferry
at sunset, watery waves of color
will ripple toward you. Stand
in the rear, turn around,
and watch Manhattan meld
into a collage
of building and light.
Superb!
Thanks, William!
I can SEE that in my mind from your writing. 🙂
Thanks, Marjory!
(my “boat” poem rewritten…after much research on Moby Dick and the meaning of “lee”. This poem just would not leave me alone last night)
Adrift, Upon the Lee
My soul’s adrift; her sail has lost the wind.
I need a westerly to fight my lee;
to pull up anchor chain and with it send
my sails a flutter, full-blown, out to sea.
My boat has ample weight yet she is trim.
Her dreams of color and a high romance
run sun and wind and frothy water’s brim
across a deck that cherishes the dance.
But still a silent ghost with lethargy;
I’m caught inside a muggy, foggy tide.
With no direction set on compass, see
her stern into a darker water glide.
Oh, save us from that whore; my soul set free,
or else this landlubber; this poet, bleed.
[…] Written for Poetic Bloomings “Life is a Beach” – Day 9: Boats. […]
BURIED AT SEA
(a shadorma)
Silently,
we passed over her.
Her bones, bared,
in the depths
of her final resting place.
Stories left untold.
2013-07-10
P. Wanken
I presume you mean a ship. My first thought is Ironbotom Sound, the strait between Guadalcanal and Tulagi, but it could be anywhere. No wonder maritime (and aviation) people speak of “souls.” Loved your poem. You write in this form so well.
Thanks, William. I appreciate it. There’s an image on my blog post, but I’m glad the inference to a ship came through, without it.
Rictameter (2 4 6 8 10 8 6 4 2)
Seeking
the rising sun,
racing the rolling waves
setting the sail to catch the wind,
facing the unknown beyond the shore line,
riding the swells, catching the spray
gulls surfing the wake
out on the sea
we’re one.
Wonderful! A sloop-rigged poem!
Thank You, William
A couple days late so I wrote three…sleeping off the effects of the booty I plundered…
Extravagance
I want not a boat
unable
to host a chopper
Waiting for high tide
My boat will make sense
in Des Moine
when the ice caps melt
Modern Day Pirate
I raid
ice chests for rum.
Surrender the booty!
Arrgh! I’m a pirate, sans cutlass
and boat.
Aaaarrrrgggghh! Left the ‘s’ off Des Moines.
Sail Away
Send me a southern breeze
Billow this sail
Just right for me
Keel close enough
To trail fingertips
And taste salt spray on my lips
Glass Bottom Boat
The starfish turned great
cartwheels
while
Octopus leant his
arms,
To minnows jumping
tightrope
Under tsunami’s storm