A Poetry Starter for anyone interested...

wildsweetone

i am what i am
Joined
Feb 1, 2002
Posts
6,809
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Mist sits on the sea, a salty sea that lines your throat. Beyond the mist, the sun rises. Decking creaks as a boat drifts...
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wildsweetone said:
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Mist sits on the sea, a salty sea that lines your throat. Beyond the mist, the sun rises. Decking creaks as a boat drifts...
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Now I'm a Thread Killer!! I think that's a promotion, huh? :cool:
 
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Fishing Boats

wildsweetone said:
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Mist sits on the sea, a salty sea that lines your throat. Beyond the mist, the sun rises. Decking creaks as a boat drifts...
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Maybe not the mist and creaking decks Kiwi :rose: :kiss: :-

Fishing Boats

Stand on the breakwater at the end of the day,
See the sun as it dips to the sea across the bay.
Colours golden red streaked against a sky of blue,
Burnished water of fire for our eyes to view.

A tranquil serenity is this evening sight,
Hard to believe the sea has such might.
A gentle sound as shingle rolls in an ebbing tide,
All is quiet as if to respect the sea’s other side.

Fishing boats gather ready to follow the tide,
Night time fishing, in darkness they hide.
Save for shining of the masthead lights,
Port and Starboard, red and green so bright.

A hush gathers as harbour lights glow,
Seagulls quietly roosting, away not to show.
Time for lovers to walk arm in arm,
Out along the breakwater, the sea so calm.

Full moon to rise setting another scène,
The wake of the fishing boats faintly seen.
Silhouettes seen against the sky at night.
And those who wait for morning bright.

Prayers are said for the sea to remain calm,
The fishermen, to return without harm.
To pray for a nets full and a good catch.
Each one hoping theirs is a match.

So comes the dawn of a new day,
Bright sun rising waking all on its way.
Fishing boats laden with their catch of the night.
Prayers have been answered, this day is bright.

© Alan J Morgan
20th April 2003
 
Bring it back Boo. I liked it. :rose:

White Warlock, yummy i swear i can smell the salty sea and strangely i have a hankering for fish. ;) :kiss:
 
wildsweetone said:
Bring it back Boo. I liked it. :rose:

White Warlock, yummy i swear i can smell the salty sea and strangely i have a hankering for fish. ;) :kiss:

No. I'll wait. It's okay. :rose:
 
BooMerengue said:
No. I'll wait. It's okay. :rose:

I'm trying to quit smoking.

aarrrgggghhhhhhhhhhh!!! And I have no cat to kick. I guess I need to go to the shelter. For a cat. Not me.
 
hip shoot

wildsweetone said:
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Mist sits on the sea, a salty sea that lines your throat. Beyond the mist, the sun rises. Decking creaks as a boat drifts...
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They drift on waves
that barely lap and lick
the boards
doubling the effect
of water-logged moments
spent meandering
the mists. Minds
wander and an albatross
lands on the bowsprit
watching the crew
whittle time. He flies
above the mist,
wings spread to cradle
the sun as the crew
lay idle, awaiting
the wind.
 
BooMerengue said:
I'm trying to quit smoking.

aarrrgggghhhhhhhhhhh!!! And I have no cat to kick. I guess I need to go to the shelter. For a cat. Not me.

then quit mucking around and write some more. post that poem back girl. heck, if everybody deleted their poems there'd be no forum!

well done on deciding to quit! how long's it been? :rose:
 
wildsweetone said:
well done on deciding to quit! how long's it been? :rose:

Yikes... I started when I was 16. My Mom said we could smoke when we were 16 (I was in 1966) and my brother was in the Coast Guard and bought me a carton of Salems for $3.00 on base. He even wrapped it. But I was never allowed to smoke in public (couldn't wear curlers out in public, either or chew gum) and was supposed to keep it to 3 cigarettes a day. I did, for quite awhile. Til I smoked a joint. (I started that at 14) I did quit for almost a year, once. I wish I'd stayed quit. But I wonder if theres really any point in quitting now? I have no doubts the damage is done. :eek:
 
did you have your last ciggy this morning?

(i smoked too when i was young, loved it.)
 
wildsweetone said:
did you have your last ciggy this morning?

(i smoked too when i was young, loved it.)

I am smoking the 4th to last in the last pack. Going for a cat tomorrow. A big mean ugly one.
 
holy moley you haven't stopped smoking yet and you are going to kick a cat just on the 'thought' of giving up?

i'll keep an eye on the news broadcast.

:D
 
BooMerengue said:
I'm trying to quit smoking.

aarrrgggghhhhhhhhhhh!!! And I have no cat to kick. I guess I need to go to the shelter. For a cat. Not me.


Just for you Boo :rose:

Poetry Now “Give Up or Give In” 30th June 2004
ISBN 1844608190

The Last Fag.

Morning comes, I awake with a gasp,
Shaking hand reaches out, me fags I grasp.
With another gasp I light one up,
Then cough so much, I almost erupt.

So starts my day with a throaty bark,
Loud enough to scare that soaring lark.
Food, tasteless and no sense of smell.
Carry on puffing, and I wont feel well.

My day consists being in a smoky haze,
I puff from one fag to another, in a daze.
This stinking habit, to kick I know,
Or as sure as hell, soon in a coffin I’ll go.

It’s a habit I tell myself, its no joy to smoke,
Not only that my pockets empty, I’m stonily broke.
For each fag I puff is just another nail,
To bring me closer to the end of my sorry tail.

Time has come, to stop this senseless habit.
Crushing each and every fag in my last packet.
All done and chucked out, a resolution new.
Barking mornings gone, smell and taste anew.

Alan J Morgan ©
 
White Warlock said:
Just for you Boo :rose:

Poetry Now “Give Up or Give In” 30th June 2004
ISBN 1844608190

The Last Fag.

Morning comes, I awake with a gasp,
Shaking hand reaches out, me fags I grasp.
With another gasp I light one up,
Then cough so much, I almost erupt.

So starts my day with a throaty bark,
Loud enough to scare that soaring lark.
Food, tasteless and no sense of smell.
Carry on puffing, and I wont feel well.

My day consists being in a smoky haze,
I puff from one fag to another, in a daze.
This stinking habit, to kick I know,
Or as sure as hell, soon in a coffin I’ll go.

It’s a habit I tell myself, its no joy to smoke,
Not only that my pockets empty, I’m stonily broke.
For each fag I puff is just another nail,
To bring me closer to the end of my sorry tail.

Time has come, to stop this senseless habit.
Crushing each and every fag in my last packet.
All done and chucked out, a resolution new.
Barking mornings gone, smell and taste anew.

Alan J Morgan ©

Thank you.
 
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