Ocean Poems - Poems For Ocean

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The Wide Ocean - Poem by Pablo Neruda

Ocean, if you were to give, a measure, a ferment, a fruit
of your gifts and destructions, into my hand,
I would choose your far-off repose, your contour of steel,
your vigilant spaces of air and darkness,
and the power of your white tongue,
that shatters and overthrows columns,
breaking them down to your proper purity.

Not the final breaker, heavy with brine,
that thunders onshore, and creates
the silence of sand, that encircles the world,
but the inner spaces of force,
the naked power of the waters,
the immoveable solitude, brimming with lives.
It is Time perhaps, or the vessel filled
with all motion, pure Oneness,
that death cannot touch, the visceral green
of consuming totality.

Only a salt kiss remains of the drowned arm,
that lifts a spray: a humid scent,
of the damp flower, is left,
from the bodies of men. Your energies
form, in a trickle that is not spent,
form, in retreat into silence.

The falling wave,
arch of identity, shattering feathers,
is only spume when it clears,
and returns to its source, unconsumed.

Your whole force heads for its origin.
The husks that your load threshes,
are only the crushed, plundered, deliveries,
that your act of abundance expelled,
all those that take life from your branches.

Your form extends beyond breakers,
vibrant, and rhythmic, like the chest, cloaking
a single being, and its breathings,
that lift into the content of light,
plains raised above waves,
forming the naked surface of earth.
You fill your true self with your substance.
You overflow curve with silence.

The vessel trembles with your salt and sweetness,
the universal cavern of waters,
and nothing is lost from you, as it is
from the desolate crater, or the bay of a hill,
those empty heights, signs, scars,
guarding the wounded air.

Your petals throbbing against the Earth,
trembling your submarine harvests,
your menace thickening the smooth swell,
with pulsations and swarming of schools,
and only the thread of the net raises
the dead lightning of fish-scale,
one wounded millimetre, in the space
of your crystal completeness.


Comments about The Wide Ocean by Pablo Neruda

Ocean Poems
  1. 1. The Wide Ocean
    Pablo Neruda
  2. 2. The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean
    Robinson Jeffers
  3. 3. An Ocean Within (A Poem For My Father, P..
    Sameer Ahmed
  4. 4. Had Ocean Been My Confidant
    Naseer Ahmed Nasir
  5. 5. As I Ebb'D With The Ocean Of Life
    Walt Whitman
  6. 6. July Fourth By The Ocean
    Robinson Jeffers
  7. 7. Sonnet I: Unto The Boundless Ocean
    Samuel Daniel
  8. 8. The Old Women Of The Ocean
    Pablo Neruda
  9. 9. Out Of The Rolling Ocean, The Crowd
    Walt Whitman
  10. 10. *i'M Your Blue Ocean
    Marieta Maglas
  11. 11. Ocean Of Forms
    Rabindranath Tagore
  12. 12. Sorrowful Ocean
    Hasmukh Amathalal
  13. 13. The Ocean
    Victoria Hughes
  14. 14. *far Away On Ocean Dreams...
    Vaibhav Pandey
  15. 15. *ocean Revery
    Ben Gieske
  16. 16. I'M The Ocean, You'Re The Sky
    .Pd. is here
  17. 17. ' ' ' ' ' Stealing An Ocean
    Dónall Dempsey
  18. 18. Ocean Poem
    Claire Page
  19. 19. Ocean: An Ode. Concluding With A Wish.
    Edward Young
  20. 20. Blue Like The Ocean
    Ency Bearis
  21. 21. (g) 3 (Biographical) The Ocean Paradox
    Renu Rakheja a.k.a Tranquil ..
  22. 22. As In The Globe Embraced By Ocean
    Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev
  23. 23. A Sailor Return To An Ocean
    Ahmad Shiddiqi
  24. 24. Ocean: An Ode. Concluding With A Wish.*
    Edward Young
  25. 25. The Ocean Said To Me Once,
    Stephen Crane
  26. 26. To Cruel Ocean
    Victor Marie Hugo
  27. 27. She Wore Watercolors Into The Ocean
    s./j. goldner
  28. 28. The Ocean
    Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
  29. 29. The Ocean
    Felicia Dorothea Hemans
  30. 30. *ocean*
    swagathnath rajeswari
  31. 31. Beneath The Ocean
    Dee Daffodil
  32. 32. Ocean Of Memories....
    Leila Kay
  33. 33. ! ! Ocean Of Verse Part I!
    Rema Prasanaa
  34. 34. Your Like A Ocean
    clayton moore
  35. 35. ! ! Ocean Of Verse Part Ii!
    Rema Prasanaa
  36. 36. An Ocean Of Love
    Lovelyn Layon
  37. 37. Sonnet To Ocean
    Thomas Hood
  38. 38. The Ocean Liner
    Harriet Monroe
  39. 39. Pearl Of The Ocean
    Aldo Kraas
  40. 40. The Ocean
    Aly Churchill
  41. 41. Gangetic Dolphin Goes To The Ocean
    Harun Al Nasif
  42. 42. A Short Poem Written At The Moment When ..
    Du Fu
  43. 43. It's Like Shooting Fish In A Barrel Call..
    Joe Rosochacki
  44. 44. *ocean Waves On Ocean Rocks In Ocean Air
    Kale Beaudry
  45. 45. ! ! ! Mother - Ocean Of Love
    Rema Prasanaa
  46. 46. Ocean Breakers
    Lonnie Hicks
  47. 47. The Mistic Ocean
    John Kim
  48. 48. Your Mind's Ocean
    Allen Steble
  49. 49. ! ! Ocean Of Poems Part Iii! !
    Rema Prasanaa
  50. 50. ! Ocean Of Treasures!
    Ajay Pisharody

New Ocean Poems

  1. Ocean Is My Name - 1, Seshendra Sharma
  2. Modi's Conversation With The Ocean, Hey….., Bijay Kant Dubey
  3. Life With The Ocean, Edward Kofi Louis
  4. My Ocean's Sun, Aba Radical
  5. The Ocean, Emily Krauss
  6. Ocean Spirit, sharon wildey
  7. Superocean Seaside, Pierre Rausch
  8. TURBINE TURNS, Andreas Embirikos
  9. Poem Of The Sky And The Ocean, Sayeed Abubakar
  10. The Line, Clay Harris

Ocean Poems

  1. As I Ebb'D With The Ocean Of Life

    1 As I ebb'd with the ocean of life, As I wended the shores I know, As I walk'd where the ripples continually wash you Paumanok, Where they rustle up hoarse and sibilant, Where the fierce old mother endlessly cries for her castaways, I musing late in the autumn day, gazing off southward, Held by this electric self out of the pride of which I utter poems, Was seiz'd by the spirit that trails in the lines underfoot, The rim, the sediment that stands for all the water and all the         land of the globe. Fascinated, my eyes reverting from the south, dropt, to follow         those slender windrows, Chaff, straw, splinters of wood, weeds, and the sea-gluten, Scum, scales from shining rocks, leaves of salt-lettuce, left by the         tide, Miles walking, the sound of breaking waves the other side of me, Paumanok there and then as I thought the old thought of likenesses, These you presented to me you fish-shaped island, As I wended the shores I know, As I walk'd with that electric self seeking types. 2 As I wend to the shores I know not, As I list to the dirge, the voices of men and women wreck'd, As I inhale the impalpable breezes that set in upon me, As the ocean so mysterious rolls toward me closer and closer, I too but signify at the utmost a little wash'd-up drift, A few sands and dead leaves to gather, Gather, and merge myself as part of the sands and drift. O baffled, balk'd, bent to the very earth, Oppress'd with myself that I have dared to open my mouth, Aware now that amid all that blab whose echoes recoil upon me I         have not once had the least idea who or what I am, But that before all my arrogant poems the real Me stands yet         untouch'd, untold, altogether unreach'd, Withdrawn far, mocking me with mock-congratulatory signs and         bows, With peals of distant ironical laughter at every word I have written, Pointing in silence to these songs, and then to the sand beneath. I perceive I have not really understood any thing, not a single         object, and that no man ever can, Nature here in sight of the sea taking advantage of me to dart         upon me and sting me, Because I have dared to open my mouth to sing at all. 3 You oceans both, I close with you, We murmur alike reproachfully rolling sands and drift, knowing         not why, These little shreds indeed standing for you and me and all. You friable shore with trails of debris, You fish-shaped island, I take what is underfoot, What is yours is mine my father. I too Paumanok, I too have bubbled up, floated the measureless float, and been         wash'd on your shores, I too am but a trail of drift and debris, I too leave little wrecks upon you, you fish-shaped island. I throw myself upon your breast my father, I cling to you so that you cannot unloose me, I hold you so firm till you answer me something. Kiss me my father, Touch me with your lips as I touch those I love, Breathe to me while I hold you close the secret of the murmuring         I envy. 4 Ebb, ocean of life, (the flow will return,) Cease not your moaning you fierce old mother, Endlessly cry for your castaways, but fear not, deny not me, Rustle not up so hoarse and angry against my feet as I touch you         or gather from you. I mean tenderly by you and all, I gather for myself and for this phantom looking down where we         lead, and following me and mine. Me and mine, loose windrows, little corpses, Froth, snowy white, and bubbles, (See, from my dead lips the ooze exuding at last, See, the prismatic colors glistening and rolling,) Tufts of straw, sands, fragments, Buoy'd hither from many moods, one contradicting another, From the storm, the long calm, the darkness, the swell, Musing, pondering, a breath, a briny tear, a dab of liquid or soil, Up just as much out of fathomless workings fermented and thrown, A limp blossom or two, torn, just as much over waves floating,         drifted at random, Just as much for us that sobbing dirge of Nature, Just as much whence we come that blare of the cloud-trumpets, We, capricious, brought hither we know not whence, spread out         before you, You up there walking or sitting, Whoever you are, we too lie in drifts at your feet.

  2. The Stars Go Over The Lonely Ocean

    Unhappy about some far off things That are not my affair, wandering Along the coast and up the lean ridges, I saw in the evening The stars go over the lonely ocean, And a black-maned wild boar Plowing with his snout on Mal Paso Mountain. The old monster snuffled, "Here are sweet roots, Fat grubs, slick beetles and sprouted acorns. The best nation in Europe has fallen, And that is Finland, But the stars go over the lonely ocean," The old black-bristled boar, Tearing the sod on Mal Paso Mountain. "The world's in a bad way, my man, And bound to be worse before it mends; Better lie up in the mountain here Four or five centuries, While the stars go over the lonely ocean," Said the old father of wild pigs, Plowing the fallow on Mal Paso Mountain. "Keep clear of the dupes that talk democracy And the dogs that talk revolution, Drunk with talk, liars and believers. I believe in my tusks. Long live freedom and damn the ideologies," Said the gamey black-maned boar Tusking the turf on Mal Paso Mountain. Submitted by Holt

  3. Had Ocean Been My Confidant

    Had ocean been my confidant I'd have given it All of my truths for safekeeping Tales i would have written Of seashells picking girls on beaches Whose golden bodies were Like isles of dreamland But whose fates were Like lines drawn in sand. Had ocean been my confidant I'd have given it All my loneliness I'd have walked with the wind Clasping its finger in my fist On distant paths From whence no one comes back! Had ocean been my confidant I'd have given it all my depths Stepping into its limitless Blue bosom I'd have made earth into my bark Sky into my sails I'd have made the woeful moment Of separation A connecting link between you and me. Had ocean been my confidant! (Translated from the original Urdu by Satyapal Anand)

  4. An Ocean Within (A Poem For My Father, Poet Naseer Ahmed Nasir)

    Flourishing on Natural contours of land, Variegating with rainbows, A continuous river Flows into his own depths, An ocean within. This wordsmith, creator Of enduring friendship Throughout the seasons With insects and birds, Foliage and flowers, his co-creators Famed among the constellations. He - an Alpha Arietis - shines With his art, evergreen. Nostalgic melodies Moisten his eyes. The smile of a child Makes him burst into laughter. He soaks up The sorrows unsaid And faces unread. A self-contained emotinal being. He puts his signature On the tablet of wind Whispering through apertures Of doors, of cores. Spreading the magic of affection, Erasing hatreds from The slates of mind And healing wounds With his balmy libretto, He consoles the heart. Though a maverick in The herds of social climbers, His deep silence evokes Wise thoughts. A translucent rain Wiping the mist of pain, He grows The creepers of camaraderie In his poetry yards. His ailing heart, Varicose legs, Olden heels And clay bound feet, All laborious episodes of A lifetime drama serial. Opening new ways Between conscious and subconscious My mentor, Even with increasing age Holds a bundle of dreams For me, for all Death's arrow is aiming at him - He knows But, still inscribing The lively poem of existence By camouflaging himself in words beautiful and strong. I know, he will live And live long.

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