Tuesday, January 01, 2013

More Twitter Tanka and Tall Ships

Ahab had
his white whale,
but I,
I go chasing
after white sails


Cape Cod Bay—
just one schooner
on her way
to the races
and a looming hurricane


Hellsgate—
deceptively quiet
at midnight
and slack tide
as we ghost through


the sea 
like rippled silk,
a blue 
no dyer
will ever match


spray flying
and clouds gathering
ah well
it’s a problem
for the next watch


a moment’s rest
before dinner—
scribbling a few lines
so I won’t forget
this day


a zephyr
with teeth,
thirty knots
howling through
the rigging



at sea
on my son’s birthday,
no way to call him,
but I think of him
all the same


Manhattan’s 
fabled skyline—
pretty to look at
but I wouldn’t want
to live there


surprisingly
little traffic
in Long Island Sound,
whatever happened
to the great port of New York?


Manhattan sunset
white and red lights
like gems
as seen from the deck
of a passing ship


at the end
of a day’s sailing,
the cat’s grey fur
sparkles
with salt crystals


a Yankee port
buried somewhere under
the yachts
and mansions
of Martha’s Vineyard


no king
on a gilded throne
could ever equal
the glory of 
a sailor at sea


God made 
the seas so large
so men would have
an inkling of
His majesty


sea legs—
the ship
standing still
in the middle
of a topsy turvy world


beam sea
watching the books
topple left
then right
on the bookshelf


the cruise ship
with her passengers
dwarfs us—
and so do
their wallets


I miss
the solitude
of a wintry sea,
just God, work,
and the clatter of oysters


Seamen's Bethel
with a hurricane coming
I sit in those 
bony pews and contemplate
the the hundreds of names not written

~passages from Cape Code to New York City











Twitter Tanka

It has been a long time since I have posted poetry or much of anything to my blog, so I thought I would catch up by posting some poems that have previously appeared only on Twitter.


a freighter at anchor
her bow turned to face
the onslaught;
sky and sea
and storm and wave


the tall ship’s captain
in a pirate bikini
a rhinestone 
skull and crossed bones
over her left breast


still in her bikini
the captain explains
mechanical advantage
and directs the re-rigging
of the gun tackle


“stand off, stand off!”
I cry, hanging in
the rigging,
curious tourists 
right under our guns


clothes make the man:
the Viceroy in his hat and wig
is a charming gentleman,
but without his costume
he’s just another creepy old man


a linen shirt
and waistcoat—
more compliments
at the pirate festival
than the rest of the year


he calls me “dashing”
the much too young
shipmate
who says
he might be bi


“rum, sodomy,
and the lash”
here’s rum
and even a few lashes, 
but not a bit of sodomy


underage for sure—
but if he’s old enough
to carry a gun,
he’s old enough
to be ogled


too wet
to sleep on deck
too hot to
sleep below
a long night at sea

~Blackbeard Pirate Festival, Hampton, VA, 2010