Sailing Poems
Rowing for Home
by Richard Randolph
We cut the mooring lines
and quietly paddled into the bay.
The ocean dared us onward
there was nothing left to say.
The stars, those distant travelers,
silently guided us on our way.
“Looks pretty rough,” old Johnson noted,
and spit defiantly into the sea.
“We’ll never make it,” the young ensign asserted,
......
Our Day on the Water
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
The sun is hot
The birds all flock
The boats convene
Revelers serene
The drinks are cool
They make you drool
The wind blows soft
......
A Bright Future
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
Pretty sailboats glide in molten sun
toward a new gold horizon
A Death That Grieves No Stranger
by Patti Masterman
A death that grieves no stranger
Is witless as a mouth
That deaf eyes do not fathom
Mute singleness of route
As pines a troubled forest
For signs of seeded quarry
We herald the dumbest signpost
To break the traveler's story
A death that grieves no stranger
......
Sunburst Horizons
by Evelyn Judy Buehler
A ship sails upon coolly placid waters,
Into the sunset of many pastel colors,
Reflected in patches on deep blue seas,
Quite matching the skies' royal blue!
In the days of sun sea color and wind,
Into a hued horizon, soon it will blend.
Freedom and joy are not too far behind,
As purple martins follow warmer seasons.
Sun yellow to peach to orange pink red,
Drifting to sweet dreams on a watery bed!
......
Our Day on the Water
by Dr. Robert Ippaso
The sun is hot
The birds all flock
The boats convene
Revelers serene
The drinks are cool
They make you drool
The wind blows soft
......
Rowing for Home
by Richard Randolph
We cut the mooring lines
and quietly paddled into the bay.
The ocean dared us onward
there was nothing left to say.
The stars, those distant travelers,
silently guided us on our way.
“Looks pretty rough,” old Johnson noted,
and spit defiantly into the sea.
“We’ll never make it,” the young ensign asserted,
......
A Death That Grieves No Stranger
by Patti Masterman
A death that grieves no stranger
Is witless as a mouth
That deaf eyes do not fathom
Mute singleness of route
As pines a troubled forest
For signs of seeded quarry
We herald the dumbest signpost
To break the traveler's story
A death that grieves no stranger
......
Renaissance and Thursday
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
With a low percentage of the summer’s borrowed flaws,
We coursed on the Main, so tamed and sinuous, from the city firth.
I swear to the ceremonies of farewell when a muted bugle signalled
From wetted resonance the beginning of the drift.
It was somewhere beneath dawn’s yawning spree – on the breath of
8 a.m. and a little further.
Thursday waited to puke on me the vestiges of dreary, gloomy filth.
And I stood sentry on the forked way of depression, expecting grease,
Weed, tangles and fogs of a depraved autumn...
But then, her Leo spoke in jest of the usual tragedy of the fourth day.
......
If My Ancestor Boarded The Titanic
by Nkwachukwu Ogbuagu
If he had boarded the frail proud lady,
My ancestor would have been a hysteric.
It would have been nothing new to him, though —
Boarding such a mighty vessel
With an unsinkable testimonial.
He had been on board Noah’s ark
For more than 40 days and 40 nights —
The first-ever lockdown in the first-ever
Flood pandemic.
He would have consulted an oracle before boarding
......
