i_id: (Default)

This was written from a prompt of mine by [livejournal.com profile] ysabetwordsmith , during one of her poetry fishbowls, and paid for as a gift by [livejournal.com profile] janetmiles . Thank you massively to both of you! Supposedly, it can be sung to "Here's to you, Mrs. Robinson." I need to work that out, because we need more songs to sing aboard!

Sail With Me,
Lady Washington

In Massachusetts, your hull was made:
The length on deck was sixty-seven feet,
Two 3-pound guns aft and one tall mast
Made you as fierce as ever you were fleet.

Between colonial ports you sailed;
You carried freight and passengers as well.
Down to Virginia and Florida
You rode the ocean’s every storm and swell.

Sail with me,
Lady Washington;
History is just another tide.
Catch the wind, Lady Washington,
Off to see what’s on the other side.

In seventeen and seventy-five
The War of Independence was begun;
A privateer, you fought British ships
And laughed to see the coward redcoats run.

In seventeen eighty-seven, when
The war was done, you gained another mast
And set sail down to Cape Horn and up
The west coast of America at last.

Sail with me, Lady Washington;
History is just another tide.
Catch the wind, Lady Washington,
Off to see what’s on the other side.

A pioneer in Pacific trade,
You went to Honolulu and Hong Kong.
Holds full of black pearls and sandalwood,
You made the trade routes steady and so strong.

You were the first from America
To make it all the way to reach Japan
And one King Kamehameha was
A partner in your visionary plan.

Sail with me, Lady Washington;
History is just another tide.
Catch the wind, Lady Washington,
Off to see what’s on the other side.

In modern times,
Lady Washington,
You were reborn to teach the world anew.
All the shipwrights and historians
Combined to see the lengthy project through.

In nineteen eighty-nine they launched you
From Washington to celebrate the day
Of state centennial, and they cheered
To see your white sails carry you away.

Sail with me, Lady Washington;
History is just another tide.
Catch the wind, Lady Washington,
Off to see what’s on the other side.
i_id: (Voyager)
The people along the sand
All turn and look one way.
They turn their back on the land.
They look at the sea all day....

The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be--
The water comes ashore.
And the people look at the sea.

They cannot look out far.
They cannot look in deep.
But when was that ever a bar
To any watch they keep?

                    ~Robert Frost.
i_id: (Default)
Time flies.
Maybe they're like fruit flies,
laying their eggs
in time
to hatch from thin-shelled minutes
and feast on hours
and drink weak
week tea
and come back for seconds
of seconds
or maybe they just
lay them
in time
to hatch in the spring.
i_id: (Russell)
Found in a guest's room during clean-out, written in a child's hand:

One day there
was a duck and it
um the Duck was
made in New
Zealand not China
every Duck that
was in China
thot that they
were <better> than
the New Zealand

So they
started a
ducky-fight and
so um they
started to
charg at
each other
then it whent
on for years
and years

and they got
tierd so there
was one
ducky in Chine
and one Ducky
in New Zealand
now the fight
was over so
they became

and then
all duckys
were happy
one Ducky
his name
w is Charles
and he

Didn't like
being nice
so he said
more fight
and every
Ducky said
And then there was a picture of a little girl smiling at the end.

I'm going to miss being a housekeeper.  Children are my favorite guests.
i_id: (Fool)

Nocturne in Blue and Gold: Valparaiso Bay
James McNeill Whistler

Silence before.

Ghost ships light lamps
to read ghost charts
and leave the pier empty for rats.
They wait to weigh anchor
for the light before dawn
and call quiet numbers across the still.
Fourteen tonnes, four kegs, two surgeons.
Row one over,
oars muffled with rags.
False dawn brightens blue
and the island reminds us it is there.
Someone ashore calls a thin question.
No answers.
Waiting to weight and wage,
all is ready, hammocks furled to block fire,
walls down, guns bound,
smoking rope in buckets.
Sails hang like suspended breath.
The flare!
Gold light reflected on flaring sail,
ghost ships leave silence for war.

Landscape of Twilight
Vincent van Gogh


Through yellow dusk
and the olive tree
sentries by the road
between the harsh strokes of cat-tails
so rarely traveled there is grass
I walk home
to the empty house
with its blue slate roof
and the woods around it
full of my childhood.

Homecoming (2)

I return home
to find the road I so carefully lined with stones
growing grass.
No feet have left prints since the last rain
and the olives hang unpicked.
No smoke from the blue slate chimneys
or light
from the windows.
I run.
i_id: (Schmoop)
Of Wings

As long as the wings were furled, they felt no awe.
Though angels felt joy to fly
and they never rested longer than need.
Above our heads, they never slept long.

As flags furled for nightfall, they came.
We watched their wings fill our sky
and awe stayed our hands from reaching.
They were too pure to touch.

As one they lighted on our town, every roof.
Their shadows stretched as long as streets
and they came for us.
A flare of wings and a missing child.

Awe was their right by daylight.
Fear, they wanted at night.


What was it like
to wear the icon?
And see yourself in flight on screen.
The great hero
in red and yellow and blue.

I still love your movies.
You were my first hero
when Batman was too scary.
You turned back time,
and I wish you could have turned it back for yourself.
Fifty two.

Mild-mannered actor
Did you fear
vanishing in the myth?
Perhaps that horse saved you
from typecast fame.

I liked your movies more
after the horse.
And the wheelchair became something beautiful.
I practiced what it would be like
to be so very still
and still alive.
and liked it.

And yet another write-up of The Derek Story.  I'm polishing it up towards publication, and would love feedback.


i_id: (Default)

April 2013

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