Quotes about ship., page 17
The Japanese Fisherman
A young Japanese fisherman was killed
by a cloud at sea.
I heard this song from his friends,
one lurid yellow evening on the Pacific.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die.
Those who touch our hands, die,
This ship is a black coffin,
you'll die if you come up the gangplank.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die,
not straight away, but slowly,
slowly their flesh rots, falls off.
Those who eat the fish we caught, die.
Those who touch our hands, die.
Our loyal, hardworking hands
washed by salt and sun.
Those who touch our hands, die,
not straight away, but slowly,
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poem by Nazim Hikmet
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Under The Balcony
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
Rise up, rise up, from the odorous south!
And light for my love her way,
Lest her little feet should stray
On the windy hill and the wold!
O beautiful star with the crimson mouth!
O moon with the brows of gold!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
Put in, put in, to the port to me!
For my love and I would go
To the land where the daffodils blow
In the heart of a violet dale!
O ship that shakes on the desolate sea!
O ship with the wet, white sail!
O rapturous bird with the low, sweet note!
O bird that sits on the spray!
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poem by Oscar Wilde
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Stand by the Engines
On the moonlighted decks there are children at play,
While smoothly the steamer is holding her way;
And the old folks are chatting on deck-seats and chairs,
And the lads and the lassies go strolling in pairs.
Some gaze half-entranced on the beautiful sea,
And wonder perhaps if a vision it be:
And surely their journeys no sorrow nor care,
For wealth, love, and beauty are passengers there.
But down underneath, ’mid the coal dust that smears
The face and the hands, work the ship’s engineers.
Whate’er be the duty of others, ’tis theirs
To stand by their engines whatever occurs.
The sailor may gaze on the sea and the sky;
The sailor may tell when the danger is nigh;
But when Death his black head o’er the waters uprears,
Unseen he is met by the ship’s engineers.
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poem by Henry Lawson
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Thy Ship
Hadst thou a ship, in whose vast hold lay stored
The priceless riches of all climes and lands,
Say, woudst thou let it float upon the seas
Unpiloted, of fickle winds the sport,
And of wild waves and hidden rocks the prey?
Thine is that ship; and in its depths concealed
Lies all the wealth of this vast universe –
Yea, lies some part of God’s omnipotence
The legacy divine of every soul.
Thy will, O man, thy will is that great ship,
And yet behold it drifting here and there –
One moment lying motionless in port,
Then on high seas by sudden impulse flung,
Then drying on the sands, and yet again
Sent forth on idle quests to no-man’s land
To carry nothing and to nothing bring;
Till worn and fretted by the aimless strife
And buffeted by vacillating winds
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poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Globtik Tokyo
Great oil companies they paid,
Ishikawajima laid
For a mighty ship a keel,
Built her out of solid steel.
Big as supertankers go
was the Globtik Tokyo,
Length twelve hundred feet or so,
was the Globtik Tokyo.
Fifty thousand horse power geared,
Through the ocean's waters sheared.
Sixteen knots her speed at top,
Took three miles for her to stop.
Half a million tons displaced,
Engineers a problem faced:
This the largest ship on Earth,
For repairs where would she berth?
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poem by Dennis N. O'Brien
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His Leadership Saved A Ship From Sinking
Their entire reality,
Is based upon what they believe...
From behind the steering wheels,
Of their cars.
And without them their lives,
Would be unliveable and scarred.
He came in from a fresh election,
To save that industry.
Only to have people see the thieves...
Publicly,
Flying into Washington, D.C.
In their private jets,
To plead selfishly...
For more money to feed.
His leadership saved,
A ship from sinking!
The biggest crooks in town,
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poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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On Reading The Controversy Between Lord Byron And Mr Bowles
WHETHER a ship's poetic? -- Bowles would own,
If here he dwelt, where Nature is prosaic,
Unpicturesque, unmusical, and where
Nature-reflecting Art is not yet born; --
A land without antiquities, with one,
And only one, poor spot of classic ground,
(That on which Cook first landed) -- where, instead
Of heart-communings with ancestral relicks,
Which purge the pride while they exalt the mind,
We've nothing left us but anticipation,
Better (I grant) than utter selfishness,
Yet too o'erweening -- too American;
Where's no past tense, the ign'rant present's all;
Or only great by the All hail, hereafter!
One foot of Future's glass should rest on Past;
Where Hist'ry is not, Prophecy is guess --
If here he dwelt, Bowles (I repeat) would own
A ship's the only poetry we see.
For, first, she brings us "news of human kind,"
Of friends and kindred, whom perchance she held
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poem by Barron Field
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The Berg (a dream)
I saw a ship of material build
(Her standards set, her brave apparel on)
Directed as by madness mere
Against a solid iceberg steer,
Nor budge it, though the infactuate ship went down.
The impact made huge ice-cubes fall
Sullen in tons that crashed the deck;
But that one avalanche was all--
No other movement save the foundering wreck.
Along the spurs of ridges pale,
Not any slenderest shaft and frail,
A prism over glass-green gorges lone,
Toppled; or lace or traceries fine,
Nor pendant drops in grot or mine
Were jarred, when the stunned ship went down.
Nor sole the gulls in cloud that wheeled
Circling one snow-flanked peak afar,
But nearer fowl the floes that skimmed
And crystal beaches, felt no jar.
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poem by Herman Melville
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Jim Jones
O, listen for a moment lads, and hear me tell my tale-
how o'er the sea from England's shore I was compelled to sail.
The jury said, "He's guilty Sir," and says the judge, says he-
"For life Jim Jones, I'm sending you across the stormy sea;
and take my tip before you ship to join the iron-gang.
don't be too gay at Botany Bay, or else you'll surely hang-
Or else you'll hang" he says, says he- "and after that Jim Jones,
high up upon the gallows-tree the crows will pick your bones-
You'll have no chance for mischeif then; remember what I say,
They'll flog the poaching out of you, out there at Botany Bay"
The winds blew high upon the sea, and the pirates come along,
but the soldiers on our convict ship were full five hundred strong,
they opened fire and somehow drove that pirate ship away.
I'd have rather joined that pirate ship than come to Botany Bay.
For night and day, the irons clang, and like poor galley slaves
we toil, and toil and when we die must fill dishonoured graves.
But by and by I'll break my chains; into the bush I'll go
and join the brave bushrangers there - Jack Donohoo and Co.
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poem by Anonymous Oceania
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The Palm-Tree
Is it the palm, the cocoa-palm,
On the Indian Sea, by the isles of balm?
Or is it a ship in the breezeless calm?
A ship whose keel is of palm beneath,
Whose ribs of palm have a palm-bark sheath,
And a rudder of palm it steereth with.
Branches of palm are its spars and rails,
Fibres of palm are its woven sails,
And the rope is of palm that idly trails!
What does the good ship bear so well?
The cocoa-nut with its stony shell,
And the milky sap of its inner cell.
What are its jars, so smooth and fine,
But hollowed nuts, filled with oil and wine,
And the cabbage that ripens under the Line?
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poem by John Greenleaf Whittier
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