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Poems On / About SWIMMING  7/7/2015 8:12:48 AM
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Best Poems About / On SWIMMING
 
 
 
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  205.     

By The Water Hole...

Two lion cubs were peaceful there,
When by the water hole,
As if life held for them no care,
No torment of the soul...
As tranquil as the water's flow,
As gentle as could be,
Yet all the while they didn't know
They were delaying me...

I longed to swim stretched out all wet,
Cooled down from Summer's heat,
But here's the closest I could get
Before we're bound to meet...
And so I waited, hid from sight,
With silent sighs and stares,
To wait my turn and stay polite
And seeking God through prayers...

And soon the cubs slinked off at last,
With parents close behind,
So that my waiting time had past
And God was oh so kind...
I swam and swam and swam and swam,
Enjoying all God gave,
Content to be the way I am,
A patient soul... not brave...


Denis Martindale, copyright, March 2015.


Poem based on a magnificent wildlife painting,
by artist Stephen Gayford nb Google-search
gayfordgallery and 'Stephen Gayford poetry'.
 
Denis Martindale

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  206.     

Mile Swim

Standing in my blue summer-stained one-piece.
Twelve years old, fellow campers’ goose-bumped bodies wait
to start the swim across lake Coniston,
rowboats and canoes ready in case we drown,
I plunge into the icy water, crawl away from the screaming
children on shore, relieved it is not their turn today –
The mile swim - final ritual of a Red Cross course.
My toes brush lake muck, seaweed, fishes,
shadowy spirits of unhappy campers forced to swim on rainy days,
shadows of early morning polar bear clubbers,
past wooden docks, knee scrapers, splinter makers,
concerned counselors in their tight white caps…
The tap-tapping of oars,
soft splash of other arms/ feet kicking
Out past the others, my strokes are strong,
.
To my surprise, I am alone.
Blue ripples, cloudless sky,
Silence smells of dragonflies.
At the center of the emerald lake
all is green-gold and shimmery.

I could just sink, no one would notice,
let my body exhale
beneath campers’ kicking feet;
free from swimming lessons,
from endless teasing,
from the pain of my budding breasts,
my parents’ divorce…

But the others catch up.
We swim to shore.
 
Lori Desrosiers

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  207.     

Somewhere In My Past

Somewhere in my past I spoke to horses
And listened to them argue about god,
I walked with them and ran though their grasses.

At other times, I’ve ambled among trees,
Or slept a while in an English garden
Or even tried to swim in stormy seas.

You must be careful swimming near the shore
Where the water lies on its intention.
When caught out, you don’t trust it anymore;

The sea regrets it all, at night it cries:
Because it’s lost the measure of connection:
For all the damage that it does with lies.

Once I tried to sing with the dawn chorus,
It sings a song that only time can sing.
If you listen it is trying to warn us.

“You must be careful swimming with the old.
You must be careful swimming with the young.
You must take care of everything you’re told.”

With me upon his back when we were young
My father even tried to swim with dolphins.
I fear drowning still, have always done;

But we must each engage with what we fear;
Sing out loud although our voice is wrong;
Hold those we love, who love us, very near.

This is how the fragile become strong.
This is how the damaged become strong.
 
John Staveley

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  208.     

A River Of Orange

A river of the freshest orange makes her way towards my all,
I am the ocean of karma waters within which she may fall.

Here I swim within myself to honour the perfection of my bodies aspirations,
Here I swim within myself as a thousand spirits soar upon the joy of respiration.

A land of emerald grace hath absorbed the seed of faith and grown
Towards such magnificent proportions that I would never have believed
Had I not know that I would never be deceived by such angelic forms.

A bridge across the ocean casts shadow down upon the waters below,
The monsters of the deep stir in bubbling hibernation for the day,
They wait as the monsters of sleep their time to rise, their time to feed.

I am one alone within the waters orange, un-able to see below the surface,
Unable to see beyond my faith I am left as upon a raft of hope for happiness.
No one hath ever seen the land to which the bridge leads us in his direction
Yet in the distance the silhouette of hills are notated by the erection of their heads,
They too cast their shadow upon the waters deep though not a sun is there in the sky.

Am I to remain upon this voyage for eternity’s duration or am I to land upon those
Distant shores of promise that I was offered in the state of dreamtime wandering?
Have I left my love ones behind to no avail or is there reason for my failings in love?
For here, alone and still upon a karma tide I feel as one with the ocean all,
I feel as though I could fall into the sky and swim just as I feel as though
I have the power to move the mountains, arranging circles out of ancient stone.

The sky is an ocean deep and I’ll never swim whilst I sleep again.
The sky is an ocean deep and I’ll never swim whilst I sleep again.
 
David Lacey

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