We sail Through
a river of emotions
on a tiny white slip
of ground up trees,
with a pencil for an oar,
or a pen for a tiller,
making ripples in the flow of languages,
cutting through them swiftly and often
causing them to overflow....
all ordinary boundaries
we are but pirates
serving out our sentences
for the treasures gathered
from other peoples lives
We keep one eye closed to the fear
that keeps others from writing
and expressing themselves.
We look for a hook to draw the attention
of all who pass by hoping
they'll pause and simply study
our scratched out renderings...
our graffiti of the mind
We find safe harbors in dreams
and spend idyllic moments there,
and then share our booty with any
who would enjoy perusing it
We turn the lines of the equator
into the lines of an equation....
equating life's sorrows, and joys
with words that sing, dance and move souls
We build bonfires in the hearts of men
and prance like drunken minstrels
around the feelings they
subconsciously share with us
It is good to be a poet....it allows
ones mind to travel and unravel
all of the mysteries of life
by simply moving across
an 8 by 10 " space
with a lead tipped sword.
Our sails are the bending,
and the turning
of the pages of our thoughts,
they allow us to soar
beyond the humble bindings
of daily drudge into
the imaginary realms of splendour.
Climb aboard, grab an Oar and dip it
to the empty white waters waiting below,
chart a course to verb island
stumble on a treasured thought,
add it to your priceless collection,
and if they hang you for your crimes
you will only be
another dangling participle
still giving meaning to life
as you gasp out your last breath.
Aye mateys,
poems are the pebbles of the Gods,
they toss them in a flat arc across
the streams of our consciousness,
and watch gaily as they skip and dance
with lilting joy from our lips and pens.....
In the hold of my heart many poems tarry,
and are cargo for starving illiterates
seeking sustenance.
A glass of port wine,
a spark of inspiration fired,
some soft music,
a wanton women,
and a poem,
what else has any meaning,
what else has a point at the end
that sets so well................period.
Artis
( . . )
^ /
|||
Author notes
Written March 7th, 2005
In a list
A contest entry
- Make me cry, laugh, and wish for more by dreamfinder.
520 points, ended October 19, 2007, 15 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 11 of 11
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This was wonderful, you write with your heart and it shows. Very inspiring good luck in the contest
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I love the pirate / poet image
You make writing seem such a romantic adventure. Wonderful turns of phrase and metaphors. Good job and good luck.
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we are but pirates
serving out our sentences
for the treasures gathered
from other peoples lives
Perhaps we are somewhat doomed to try to write, somewhat in imitation of all the great things that we have read. It rings true. Somebody famous said that all writers get their start imitating things they've read. I think I agree.
Well, you've certainly managed to make writing poems seem more exciting than I usually feel that it is when I am writing. It was almost like the Pirates of the Carribean ride! ...I suppose I haven't been much of a pirate lately, though. Oh well. Nice, jaunty little piece here.
Mike -
It seems you have capture the poetic spirit justly. I never thought of it that way. I guess we do kind of take from the rich in experiences and give to the poor in writing. The usual other. Thank you for sharing.
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I enjoyed this quite a bit...
We look for a hook to draw the attention
of all who pass by hoping
they'll pause and simply study
our scratched out renderings...
I love this... isn't it all but true... poems screaming please read me...
Very well written!
S~
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Artis, you do have a way about you! And the words spin themselves into an art form from your small white slips and soulful sails along lifes sunrises and sunsets with an expanse of heaven, and a little inclement weather thrown in for good measure. What we don't experience we are not beyond inventing and would write ourselves in the sand were it not for those oars and tillers. And of course, those are the nets which we cast for dreams. Happy fishing, Artis!
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This absolutely captures the soul of we the poetic pirates of the world. A beautifully spun tale expressing how our creativity can transcend beyond blankness, and weave a web using our hearts and souls. Excellent piece as always!!!
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A poet pirate, now that is cool.
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You certainly have this poetic writing thing down.A wonderful piece.It speaks volumms on the aspirations of all who attempt to write seriously. suseann
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You certainly have this poetic writing thing down.A wonderful piece.It speaks volumms on the aspirations of all who attempt to write seriously.
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heh
that was pretty awesome
i like it alot
great rythm
keep up the great work!
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