Shore Leave
A day bright as silver,
the women in black like boats
swimming in the sea.
On shore, I walk like a captain:
I roll, not able to stand.
Gedichten over het onderwerp: boat
Gedichten over het onderwerp “boat” op Poets.by.
Of Ships and Bottles
A bottle in a ship in a boat:
what arms and flags?
Silk clothes, a rich
noise of fiddlers.
What will be the entertainment?
Jurates of the town
and the vice-admiral.
Where to drink?
In the lost ship,
in bed in my cabin,
where I gave the bottle
a merry good night.
Youth revisited
We were a hit we were pretty
only hands were handsome as we
and we were young
there at night—
easily stirred
and as green as boats.
Diagnosis
I found myself out
of order and cold
like a boat in the trees,
silver and ancient.
I ought to fall
towards the shore, landing
somewhere among the reeds
like a clear fruit of water.
Grave goods
The messenger
sits in his boat
expecting us.
How much
difference there is
between the old
and the dead!
As if there was never
another world
but my things—
and as if they
shall pass
with me.
That sinking feeling
I go to the bar
on a boat
a hole is a looking-glass
the queen moth hanging
in many a Marriott
good wine and merry
got me
the easiest bed
Hearsay
“six men I hear
drowned repairing the queen’s pleasure boat”
evening barber
Canal haiku
It’s sandal season—
you bring back a blister
from the canal.
Light from the water
plays on the steel girders.
A train’s screeching wheels.
Leading a crew
of gnomes and potted plants,
the jolly roger.
After the canal boat passes,
the huge floating leaf
reverses course.
Lowering their heads in threat
again and again: geese
with a single gosling.
Where the high-speed
* * *
Boats
Her heart
was the ocean
and he
was a boat
then love
was the captain
who kept it
afloat
Rainy Season
Drops falling
Drip! Drip!
On water falling
Splash ! Splash !
Puddles formed here and there
Paper boats sailing here and there
Children sailing paper boats.
Children sailing paper boats.
The Long River
The musk-ox smells
in his long head
my boat coming. When
I feel him there,
intent, heavy,
the oars make wings
in the white night,
and brave woods are close
on either side
where trees darken.
I rowed past towns
in their black sleep
to come here. I passed
the northern grass
and cold mountains.
The musk-ox moves
Ninety
Know the meaning of
the dory-boatmens'
daily beaching
at full throttle,
risking all between
two waves.