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Quotes about rowing, page 4

A Missing Oar

I understand the origin of your confusion.
But unlike the others,
I am not devoting my life
To the comprehension of it.

If pieces in your mind do not fit,
I will not attempt to convince you
With time given they will.
They wont!

You are determined to prove,
A rowing of a boat in a bath tub
Can be done,
IF one believes.

And I believe,
Somewhere in your head
There is a missing oar!

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When It Has Been Discovered And Decided

If you have found...
That a time spent trying to find yourself,
Has gone.
At least know this...
You are not in a boat,
Rowing without direction alone.
Since many like you...
Have been doing the exact same thing.

And...
Will,
Undoubtedly...
Have a lot to share and talk about,
When it has been discovered and decided...
Expenses can be saved,
By all of you climbing into one boat...
To drift along without any interference.

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A Sad Fact!

Floating in the ocean of hallucination,
Running on the roads of sorrow and commotion,
Rowing in the streams of wasteful dreams,
Spending money in the Malls on empty beams,
Knowledge that possessed drown in cheap alcohol,
wise old human metamorphosed from clever young,
The younger days are spent on booze and weeds,
Human may stumble and stagger at late fifties.
Sick and unhealthy at sixties,
Worries as the companion,
To nurse the failures and despair.

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Me & U

me and U
WE write poems together
i read yours
and you read mine
hopefully to refine
this craft of mine

me and U
WE need to sip coffee together
on an early morning
and read another poem

me and U
ALONG the shores of sorrow
walking hand in hand
bringing with us
the purity of our intentions

me and U
WE ARE but offerings

[...] Read more

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Rowers Chant

Row till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.

Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet.
Row till the waves, out-stripped,
Give up dead beat.

Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.

Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.

[...] Read more

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A Cigarette

A Cigarette


Dawn, yes and the mist, what else do you
expect on lake Martin early and summer?
Swamp cypress dripping with Spanish moss.
I have stopped rowing, water swirling around
Oar blades, the silence is absolute I dare not
Inhale, a bird shrieks, the lake shudders
An evil thought has entered Paradise, I hear
The faint noise of outboard motors,
The moment of ethereal stillness has gone,
I lit a cigarette inhale deeply, exhale and blow
Rings a pure delight into morning air.

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The Rower's Chant

ROW till the land dip 'neath
The sea from view.
Row till a land peep up,
A home for you.

Row till the mast sing songs
Welcome and sweet,
Row till the waves, outstripped,
Give up, dead beat.

Row till the sea-nymphs rise
To ask you why
Rowing you tarry not
To hear them sigh.

Row till the stars grow bright
Like certain eyes.
Row till the noon be high
As hopes you prize.

[...] Read more

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Laughter

Laughter
Mole-like token let it be bestowed on you
Laughter
Bell-like liquid an outpour light and blue
Laughter
The joyful cords in music born blessed throats
Laughter
The happy rowing in plenitude golden boats
Laughter
Running wild shaking bellies to dance
Laughter
Sweet disease swell infective trance
Laughter
The tongue tip peeping to mock the hands of time
Laughter
The gift of he’s she’s of you’re we’re or I’m
Laughter
The blissful eyes when joyful tears go down
Laughter
The king or queen carrying the highest crown

[...] Read more

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Vanishing Islands

Vanishing Islands


Classic sea, almost antique, slow swinging oars
rowing towards a balmy island with lazy palm trees.
Everything could have been so perfect, hadn’t been
for the rising sea and the diminishing shoreline.
There is a smoking mountain in the middle of
the island, soon fishermen will sit on cliffs and be
anglers, sing songs remembering times when their
island had a sandy beach; but for now oscillating oar
blade dips into liquid happiness, disturbing briefly
the azure sky that preens itself on an ocean it regards
as a mere mirror.

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A hippo at dawn

The cracking branches as it rushed in
had a shocking kind of thunder to them
and where it entered the swollen river
I heard the rushing water splashing

and at that breaking of day
the scene was something primitive
as if from the very beginning of mankind
while that huge animal lingered with gaping jaws,

jaws that could open wide enough
to snap the small rowing boat in two
in which I was crossing the stream

while like in a kind of dream
everything was happening very slowly
before suddenly the water boiled
as in great might it turned away,

and the water swallowed it.

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