Sitting on our shore and watching a solitary sailboat navigating the Lake Erie waters. Made me wish I were manning the rudder and unfurling the sails for a trek. In lieu of a boat, we’re writing a sail poem (or a sale poem). That’s a bargain for sure!
WALT SAILS:
SAYLES HALF OFF SALE They’re there at Sayles selling their sails, sail sales always prevail! From here to there they sell their ware, so the boats can go from here to there. You can see them lined up in a row, but without a sail that’s the only way they’ll go merrily, gently down the stream. (c) Walter J Wojtanik - 2022 *** Apparently you notice Marie’s absence. She’s taking a poetic pause to spend some Nona time with her beautiful granddaughters. She’s earned a Sunday off, so I’m going it alone.
POETIC BLOOMINGS 
Responses
Sailing
The sea of life
Destination ahead
What’s over the next horizon?
Only the Ship’s Captain knows
I like it Earl! Life is quite adventurous.
Winds blow
Against the sail
In the wrong direction
It’s up to us to stay the course
Lest we crash against the rocks
Yes!
Good one, Earl!
I’ve never been a Sailor
The sea was not the place for me
I chose to wear the Blue
For twenty years
Air Force
Ah, an Unappreciate!
Ironically, I was trying to think what to call it when writing it. I like Unappreciate. Thanks.
A Parson’s hat trick! A great start Earl!
Wonderful. Salute.
SAILING STRAIGHT
Who blew upon my sail?
That I might ride the open sea?
I reckon then, the hidden God is by my side—
to tame the perse, unruly blue.
‘Twould be a sailors rotten tale,
like all pompous, bloated liars do;
but I’m tellin’ ya straight—for the first time,
its true!
© Benjamin Thomas
Well, blow me down and pic k me up. This recalls an old song:
Yes! A wonderful verse, Benjamin!
UNEXPECTED TACK
Sailing
is a pleasure
downwind of the puffing,
unless, of course, the sails begin
luffing.
Well, blow me down! Love the luffing sails, Will! Nicely done.
What a great word, ‘luffing’!
[…] tanka 31-syllables (5.7.5.7.7). Written for Poetic Bloomings “sailing”. Image from Unsplash. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on […]
A Sinking Star
Me and this sea realm,
and a fickle wind sneezing
against the sails
like the Hesperus into
fistfuls of dark inked water.
Beautiful!
Thanks, Benjamin.
Superb!
Thank you!
“fistfuls of dark inked water.”
Oy, what a graphic image, Marilyn. Love this.
Lovely and vivid, Misk!
Real Real Estate
Almost 10 years into our latest house
the one we call our forever home,
the toes-up place,
last stop before the old folks dome.
I once heard a guy at Home Depot,
talking about the bargain he got,
a house for sale for too much, too long,
and he said he picked it up for a song.
They wanted three hundred, you see,
he stole it for two fifty-three.
We have something like that,
(well, not really,)
since they asked for the moon and the stars,
and we said okay, then tossed in the sun (so far).
It’s fine, we say, because here we’re staying,
forever and a day, (at least so I’m praying).
Remodeling is always pricier than planned,
but, not to worry, you see it’s all good,
we’d only waste that money on frivolous stuff,
you know, like clothing and food.
Great set-up for that last line!
You paint a picture, Daniel! Very nice!
Love the lead-in to that humorous ending.
Peaceful Scene
Tall grasses fringed the shore line
looking out on a flock of sail boats
floating on the calm water like ducks.
Their triangular white sails
pointed up to the steely evening sky.
Purple mountains ridged the opposite shore.
I sighed and made a wish.
I love the scene you’ve painted here.
Takes me to Scotland, this does.
Serenity lives here, Connie! Love it!
I love that first line, Connie!
Love your poem Walt and I hope Marie creates memories with those adorable little girls.
Walt, your poem has me chuckling and wondering at the vaguely familiar name, Sayles.
Ah, I got the desired response to my silly romp. Sayles, they have their White sales in the morning, and red sales in the sunset!
You weren’t going to let that one go by, eh?
I associate “Sayles” with Buffalo, for some reason.
You’re correct, but the references were of a criminal nature. My SAYLES isn’t associated.
Thanks, Mary! And I trust she will. She always has.
Stakeout
Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags
for when clothes she liked dropped in price.
Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
She waited for sale merchandise,
three markdowns gave her the green flag.
Her stakeout was Macy’s Franchise.
With eyes like a hawk, she checked tags.
The only way to shop, Sara! Love the triolet!
Indeed so.
Thanks, William!
Thanks, Walt!
Love your word choices and core phrases. 😊
Thanks, Benjamin!
WORDS SET SAIL
They say actions speak
LOUDER
than words.
Yet both begin as
whispers—
of actionable thought.
It all depends on the
listener,
what is said and what is wrought.
© Benjamin Thomas
Very thoughtful.
Thanks!
If I Could Go Back
If I could go back
to Point Loma.
I’d still like
to stand on the hill
watch the sail boats
gathered
on the Pacific
and stretching as far
as I could see.
I’d like
to take in the wonder
of stillness
and watch their frail frames
and sails taken by the wind
while below the ocean
pulses and breathes.
I’d like to take in
the reflections
as endless waters glisten
under a watchful sun.
I’d like to gaze
at the statue
of John Rodriguez Cabrillo
with arms stretched to his side
greets the boats in his watch
as they come and go
as casual outings reflect greater journeys
the stories of explorers told
well beyond mortal lives
Leaves me feeling wistful, this does.
I love the “wonder of stillness” contrasted with “pulses and breathes”.
I love the image I get of the ocean pulsing and breathing.
RED SAILS AND SUNSETS
Broad brush strokes of Alizarin Crimson and amaranth, American Beauty Rose is a miss that lusters like a ruby in the noonday sun. Auburn tinted leaves leave little to imagine, but the grin that spreads from ear to ear is clear. Brick and mortar are not built for speed, indeed they are solid; a structured foundation upon which lives are constructed. We’ve tucked our collars up and the skies remain changeable. Unstable weather not withstanding, Fall is handing us a sneak peek at the peak of the season. There is no reason to stay sequestered, it has festered for as long as you’ve been marooned. Soon the Cardinal will perch on barren branches and the chances are slim that Winter will delay.
All fruited hints of a tint so rusty; ruddy and bloody replacing candy apple and cherry, (although grapes make great claret; burgundy) and we see the sun diminish at the finish of day. Unfurled, our canvas sways and stays billowed like a skyward pillow capturing the breath of Him. Scarlet spinnaker shadowed in silhouette, you have yet to pull anchor, thankful for this moment.
A descending sun
back-lighting the horizon,
transitions to fall.
© Walter J Wojtanik
I think this is magnificent.
Magnificence indeed. 👌
This is stunning, Walt! I love the colors.
I apologize for not posting any poems. I wrote a poem on Monday WHEN I was at my blood doctor. Good/ bad news day. I will try to post it tomorrow…
CONTEST
The vessel
sails;
the sea assails.
Clever!
EPITAPH
Here lies a seaman, far from home —
well, no surprise, we’re telling lies —
we’ve written words on this cold stone
but saved his bones for Davy Jones.
He lived his life upon the deep —
his sails were spread around the world —
we thought it only fair and square
that his last lee be in the sea.
On Monday, I was on my way to have my blood checked… I was anxious and I was hoping the iron patches were working, and they are, but on the way there I saw a billboard that that even the skeletons are cramped…. and then a song of Peter Gabriel got in my head that is called Mercy Street. My only contribution this week…
Burying at sea…
This morning
I decided to bury my fears.
They take up too much space
And even the skeletons
Are being cramped.
I went to a friend
Who knew how to sail.
“Take me out to sea,”
I asked.
I wanted to take the boat out…
He looked at the clear sky,
And said, “I smell a storm coming.”
I smiled, “We will be fine…
Maybe we should wait until darkness.”
“No. that won’t work,” he said.
“Good,” I said, “we can go now.”
I helped to lift the sails, and
Set out for the deep waters”
He asked, “What is in the bag?”
I smiled and gave him a kiss,
“Just some useless items,
And a few skeletons.”
“Did you say skeletons?”
“Yes, they have been cramped
In my chifforobe and
I need the space.”
“Should I worry.”
“Nope”
As we got closer to deep water,
I pulled the bag to the edge,
And he stepped over to see
What I was throwing away…
The bag seemed heavy,
And as I dumped the fears
And skeletons made splashes.
He looked puzzled, “There is nothing
In that bag!
And what is making the splashes…
I smiled, “My fears were heavy,
And the skeletons
Are bad memories.”
I gave him a kiss and said,
“I need to get rid of them”
The fears tried to grab a hold
As we turn our boat around,
And I caught a glimpse
Of a skeleton laying back
As it floated to the bottom.
The ride to shore
Was filled with delights,
And my friend smiled,
“I am glad to see
The lightness in your eyes.”
I hugged him close,
And laughed as we
Watched the sails
Begin to catch the sunset,
And become tangerine and magenta…
How to you like my fanciful tale?
Mary Elizabeth Todd
August 11, 2022
I love this, Mary! Fears are heavy burdens indeed.
Seagulls sail right in
the midst of midday breezes.
Hunger pains persist.
Benjamin Thomas
love the image