Poets Portal -A Beacon For Being


Poets Portal  -A Beacon For Being

Share your own authorings (preferred). Cultures from abroad, seeking to intertwine and offer a taste from the kettle of feeling. Here, savor your neighbors thoughts and marinade your own in what just could be the sauce to an award winning dish.

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Latest Activity: Dec 18, 2011

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Comment by ___/)ances With Sails on December 18, 2011 at 9:38pm

A Log In Th Bog In Th Fog

Accumulated Feathers n Shit.

Fer This Is Where Th Herons Sit

As Th Gators Swim Past

Waitin To Eat Their Ass.

Frogs Are Croakin Under A Fallin Sun

Till A Heron Has Done Abrupted Ones Fun.

A Pirogue Glides By Under A Moss Filtered Heaven.

Oh And Th Snakes, Ive Counted Seven.


Comment by ___/)ances With Sails on February 11, 2010 at 11:14pm
Been 'nother one of them nights...

The Devil Came Down To Texas
He'd been lookin for some work ye see.
He had had it with employers -really burnt out from submittin his resume.
Then he came up on an ole boy with a broke fiddle and a tear in his eye,
And climbed up on his sailboat where he commenced to ask 'em why.
He said "devil ye couldn't tell but im a creation from all hell, and Im telling ye I know just how you must feel. Now I too am looking for work, and devil for a perk, I bet a fiddle that works, against those jerks who wont give you the time of day."
Lou said "I might be a christian, moral and right, but Ill hook you up with those folks who judge, for a new fiddle here tonight."

Buddy get yer list cause Im so pissed Ill barter with you no doubt.
Cause hell is hell when yer unemployed, and ye have to endure it with clout.
So in exchange for those arbitrators who wont hear out our case,
You'll get a fiddle with a tuned gold face.

...Not to be continued.

Comment by ___/)ances With Sails on January 29, 2010 at 10:07pm
We dream of wind fillin yer sails
Sandman and I, stuck in our world
We laugh and cry as we wish ye well
Plannin to wrap up our past and hurl

Images of yer lone rig flyin
high into th night of charm
where you no longer sit a sighin
stream from my face to my arms

We know ye are fare and well taken care
of so no need for us to worry
only to rid, rig and pack
its christmas already i should hurry

me life is yet to go anywhere
i see others livin it allday
i know that way of life is secure
so im content i WILL once sail away
Comment by ___/)ances With Sails on January 28, 2010 at 9:23pm
Ride em high, them stars above
venture on into a space of love.
Not every one light is awaitin the chance
to capture yer attention, to serenade yer trance

Like a beloved rollercoaster we stand in line.
Hopeing to find an answer in every rhyme.
Looking out at who's lookin in.
A peaceful confession to ponderin
A space on a raft is as if Im free
amongst the stars for eternity
Comment by Suky Cannon on July 25, 2009 at 5:19pm
Though my poem words are just bursting to be
put to paper, my pen is not moving lately.
So instead I offer you one of my favorite modern poets;
David Whyte.
This one reminds me of the wind...

Working Together

We shape our self
to fit this world

and by the world
are shaped again.

The visible
and the invisible

working together
in common cause,

to produce
the miraculous.

I am thinking of the way
the intangible air

passed at speed
round a shaped wing

holds our weight.

So may we in this life

to those elements
we have yet to see

or imagine,
and look for the true

shape of our own self,
by forming it well

to the great
intangibles about us.

-- David Whyte
from The House of Belonging
©1996 Many Rivers Press
Comment by Suky Cannon on July 2, 2009 at 12:51am
Spanish Waters by John Manesfield

SPANISH waters, Spanish waters, you are ringing in my ears,
Like a sweet, quaint piece of music from the grey forgotten years;
Telling tales, and weaving runes, and bringing weary thoughts to me
Of the sandy beach at Muertos, where I would that I could be.

Oh the sunny beach at Muertos, and the windy spit of sand,
Off of which we came to anchor while the shipmates went a-land,
Where the blue lagoon emptied over snags of rotting trees,
And the golden sunlight quivered on the brilliant colibris.

We came to port at Muertos when the dipping sun was red,
We left her half-a-mile to sea, to west of Nigger Head;
And before the mist was on the Key, before the day was done,
We put ashore to Muertos with the gold that we had won.

We bore it through the marshes in a half-score battered chests,
Sinking, staggering in the quagmire till the lush weed touched the breasts,
While the slithering feet were squelching in the pulp of fallen fruits,
And the cold and clammy leeches bit and sucked us through the boots.

The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down,
All the spoil of scuttled carracks,all the loot of Lima Town
Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of perished crews,
Gold doubloons and double moydores, louis d’ors and portagues,

Clumsy yellow-metal earrings from the Indians of Brazil,
Emeralds ouches out of Rio, silver bars from Guayaquil;
Silver cups and polished flagons, censers wrought in flowered bronze,
And the chased enamelled sword hilts of the courtly Spanish Dons.

We smoothed the place with mattocks, and we took and blazed the tree,
Which marks you where the gold is hid that none will ever see,
And we laid aboard the brig again, and south away we steers,
Through the loud white surf of Muertos which is beating in my ears.

I’m the last alive that knows it. All the rest were took and swung
In chains at Execution Dock,where thieves and such are hung.
And I go singing, fiddling, old and starved and castaway,
And I know where all the gold is that we won with L'Ollonais.

Well, I've had a merry life of it. I'm old and nearly blind,
But the sun-dried swinging shipmates' chains are clanking in my mind.
And I see in dreams, awhiles, the beach, the sun’s disc dipping red,
And the tall brig, under topsails, swaying in past Nigger Head.

I’d be glad to step ashore there, Glad to take a pick and go
To the lone blazed coco-palm tree in the place no others know,
And lift the gold and silver that has mouldered there for years
By the loud white surf of Muertos which is beating in my ears.
Comment by Pete on June 11, 2009 at 1:38pm
Yet another chestnut: The lyrics to the previously posted track "I'll Never Follow the Sun" (see my home page for MP3).

I see your face in the morning when I rise
And though you're not really there, my love
I would like to think that you cared, my love
It's those quiet moments we shared, my love, that keep playing on my mind.
I see your eyes in the morning, your blue eyes
And now that everything's said and done
I can't help it if I cry
'Cause now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

I see your smile in the morning when I rise
Now you're smiling for someone new
Guess I never meant anything to you
And all the lies that I saw through just kept me hangin' on.
Now I'm alone every morning with my songs
A little stronger, I'm on my way
I've been more or less of a man
But now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

How many times we've been together in my mind
Nothing, nothing ever stays the same
And though it seems like a change in the weather tonight, girl
I can't help singin' 'bout the rain.

Now I'm alone every morning with my songs
A little stronger, I'm on my way
I've been more or less of a man
But now that you're gone, I'll never follow the sun.

This one actually got recorded in a proper studio. I'd love to know what happened to the master recording after my partner died. I still believe in this song even though musical styles have changed over time.
Comment by Pete on June 10, 2009 at 12:11pm
Change of plans. I couldn't attach the MP3 to an email because the file was too big. I'll try uploading it to my SeaKnots page.

This had better be worth it.
Comment by Pete on June 10, 2009 at 12:04pm
For now, I'll do you one better -- I'll send the MP3 as an email attachment. Enjoy, and please pardon the goofy sounding intro on the track. (Remember, it was just a demo.)
Comment by Suky Cannon on June 10, 2009 at 12:02pm
Am I going to get to hear this one during the O'day Rendevous... I like it !!!

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