Quotes about rowing, page 3
Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
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Wild Nights—Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile—the Winds—
To a Heart in port—
Done with the Compass—
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden—
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor—Tonight—
In Thee!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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That couple
We love them dearly,
Individually – always will –
but together – lawdy lawd…
they’ve exhausted our sympathy,
our advice, our sympathy again…
they love ‘making up’
more than rowing, separating – don’t we all?
but they love making up, even
more than loving…
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Fairy Tale
The unwed moon
rowing like a swan on blue lake
after making love to silence.
Dignified shadows
walk on black beach
gathering white heels.
Only lunatics will sing
in shapeless lines.
Who cares for a sequence?
The milk of love
after the kids, in night
the moon was drinking nonstop.
poem by Satish Verma
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Here, Sailor
WHAT ship, puzzled at sea, cons for the true reckoning?
Or, coming in, to avoid the bars, and follow the channel, a perfect
pilot needs?
Here, sailor! Here, ship! take aboard the most perfect pilot,
Whom, in a little boat, putting off, and rowing, I, hailing you,
offer.
poem by Walt Whitman
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The Blue Boat
The Blue Boat
When winter rain falls
The lake in the vale fills up
Clear as a child’s tear
Where a blue rowing boat floats
Whishing it were a schooner
When the wind blows
You can if you try see masts
And its boastful sails
As it crosses vast expanses
Of dreams and secret longings
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Rags And Riches
Deep blue, almost black,
sadness.
Being,
my ache of existence.
Eyes, no body in focus.
A grey cloud
rowing the moon
amidst red stars.
Bronzed tongue
digs the spirit
out of flesh
behind the shadows.
Alone me
in unlived house of rags,
looking beyond the walls
other side of tomorrow.
poem by Satish Verma
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Wild Nights — Wild Nights!
Wild Nights — Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!
Futile — the Winds —
To a Heart in port —
Done with the Compass —
Done with the Chart!
Rowing in Eden —
Ah, the Sea!
Might I but moor — Tonight —
In Thee!
poem by Emily Dickinson
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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In The Corridors Of My Senses
On the corridor of my senses
I have lost the shape of
My shadows
Serrated leaves have fallen
On a bed of broken limbs
Muted the sound of my bones
Appearing in another dimension
This morning
I have seen the wilting of
Red roses
Tears drying from the blue
Lovers ‘ eyes
I hear the song
Of a boatman
Rowing and falling
To the edge of the sunless sea
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Good night! which put the candle out?
Good night! which put the candle out?
A jealous zephyr, not a doubt.
Ah! friend, you little knew
How long at that celestial wick
The angels labored diligent;
Extinguished, now, for you!
It might have been the lighthouse spark
Some sailor, rowing in the dark,
Had importuned to see!
It might have been the waning lamp
That lit the drummer from the camp
To purer reveille!
poem by Emily Dickinson
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and Lethewards have sunk
Plastic patterns swiftly flowing
gladly lend impressions glowing
sometimes faster, sometimes slowing,
constant keeping - not all knowing.
Thus mind radar to and froing -
whirlwind nature, blowing, blowing,
Cupid with his darts arrowing,
and acrostics all a-rowing, -
seeks to answer questions sowing
further questions Time a-mowing
soon forgets, leaves little showing.
poem by Jonathan Robin
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