Most Liked Fantasy/Science Fiction Poems (812)

I can hear heavy footsteps coming down the hall, sounds like heavy work boots. This sound is enough to take me back.

Must have been around 1970, going by memory, I was up in Darwin working as a roustabout on an offshore oil rig. Not the usual platform oil rig, though on the way out to mine (by helicopter) we did stop on one of those, but an old converted mortuary ship used during the Korean War.

Using a ship for drilling is actually a lot more dangerous than drilling from a platform. Firstly you are a lot closer to the water and when a storm is blowing the waves crash right over the main deck. Secondly if you have a blow out, which means you hit gas and it escapes, the sea around you loses its buoyancy and the ship no longer floats. Straight to the bottom you go, and there have been lives lost that way.

One day we were expecting a hurricane and I was ordered to secure the fresh water hoses. These were hoses, about six inches in diameter, used to pump fresh water aboard from the supply ship. These hoses were on a narrow, about six feet wide deck, that ran along each side of the ship and only about two feet above water level.

The sea was already up and the wind was blowing a beauty. The waves were already lapping onto this deck and the main deck was about eight feet above my head. At a frantic pace I started securing the hoses, but it was already too late to do this with any comfort.

Every couple of minutes a big wave came along that went over the main deck. All I could do was take a deep breath and hang on for dear life. I must have been about ten feet under water every time a wave came along. As you can see I did not get swept away and drown. Mind you though, it was close a couple of times.

We were working twelve hour shifts, from seven to seven. When they found out that I was also a welder gone was my luxurious twelve hours off. I had to work overtime. Now I was working eighteen hours a day.

At the centre of the ship where the drilling gig was there was a shaft right through the ship. This was called the moon pool, and I have no idea why it was called that. This is where the drill went down to the ocean floor.

This is where I spent six hours a day up to my waist in water welding lugs onto a massive nut (about five feet in diameter) so it could be undone. All the time I nervously watched the sharks hungrily circling under me. I’m sure they were just waiting for an opportunity to come up and snack on me.

I still have both my legs although another welder I believe was not so lucky. About six months after I left I read about it in the paper. I had left for a safer job; I went and worked in a uranium mine. This is another story altogether.

Continued in MEMORIES (part 3b)

Stranded by choice on an isle so far
Seems to be very strange a desire
Yet were you to be in my head
You would applaud my choice instead
For oft times it seems to me
That this world has gone topsy turvy
I might even say it is crazy
Genocide, Patricide, Matricide
And Suicide are all the children
Spawned from greed and pride
So leave me...
Let me flee...
To this faraway deserted isle in the sea
The question asked
What would I take with me?
My Bible, with words from Solomon to keep me wise and inspired
A verse or two from division of Psalms for divine protection
Going to Hebrews every day to read more on keeping faith...
For item #2
My children sorry they come as one to me
For I won't have one without the other
And I know they would sorely miss their mother
To be able to hear their I love you is
one of my greatest dreams come true
Well on to number three
Well might you ask, what can it be?
Well fire was one of the earliest discoveries
And we still can't do without it
It brings to life a certain ease
Warming you up on a cold night and
Providing a strange but comforting light
So then it would be a huge box of matches
Gathering now a few dry bushes to make a fire to
Dry our britches
With my fire, I'd grill fish caught in the sea,
Roast some strange but yummy fruit from a nearby tree
My fire 'twill keep creatures away
And so content I will be
On my deserted isle to stay.

As I ponder in my practal mind I think that I will find my bible a confort to pass the time,with Romeo my mighty goose by my side. His all seeing eyes to warn of moving new,his protective nature awakes with a cry,better than any dog by my side. My hunting knife a versatal tool to help me hunt like a fool.

A flower has a special beauty each one unique,
A flower has delicate petals that appear soft and fragile,
A flower is made to withstand strong winds and rain, and to bend with the elements of nature, made to go with the flow and not to break unless cut or ripped out.

A flower lives to give beauty, pleasure and add a gentleness,
A flower lives to give nature a way to grow and flourish, it makes the world a sweeter place.

And when she dies, a flower is replaced with another she helped make with the seeds she held, and so she lives on.

You got me in tears,
That could fill up a pool,
You got me in fear,
Of making me your fool.



I don't worry when you're near,
Having you beside is so cool,
Guarding me with your amazonion spear,
Dressed in cashmere wool.

Little eyes, shiny and bright
Have so much to see
Spotting wonders in this world
Behind every rock and tree.

Tiny fingers reaching out
Entwining mommy's hand
Urging me to follow her
Right into Wonderland.

Little feet (though sometimes stumbling)
Know the way so well
To a world where fairies live
And unicorns do dwell.

Through the years and growing up
And chasing wealth and fame
The most of us forget this realm
Which really is a shame.

But thanks to you, my darling child
And your tugging little hand
Life gave me a second chance
To return to Wonderland...

(dedicated to and written for my beloved little Nissi <3)
(2002)

The Island lush and green, fresh with wide open spaces,
a shimmering river running gently from the waterfall.

Only Three things were needed to complete her paradise,
she asked for music for without music how can you dream,
she asked for a crystal ball so she could check on her children,
she asked for Michael for with him she could have love, fun, dreams, touch, kisses, cuddles, conversation, and everything she would ever need.

Trusty, old-growth wooden-handled axe
enables me to clear a spot to call my own
to fell trees, chop logs to make a home
and heat within walls to embrace my spirit
isolated, not by choice, now all alone.

That case of duct tape I decided to bring
enables me to construct so many things.
Using island vines axe-chopped as strings
I made a hammock from which to swing
relax, elevated, safe from what nature brings.

From versatile typhoon pants that keep
body warm and dry to a bathing suit
that another’s eye would surely catch
(were there anyone around to see)
duct-tape clothes both adorn and protect me.

And kayak, too, to surf the waves
duct-tape made without nail, wire or glue
paddles shaped by wood the axe did hew.
I fish and travel the sea under skies of blue
counting ten years until I again see you.

A bag, I cleverly fashion from duct tape
carries water, found, from source to home
Another, I did construct to carry food
collected from native plants and trees
or speared by arrows my axe did hone.

For those fine-motor things an axe cannot do
scale fish, slice, cut open or gently pry
a Swiss Army SwissChamp XAVT
was something that I brought with me.
Comes not with ten-year but a lifetime warranty.

Santa Baby
just slip black candy under the tree
for me
been an awful good vamp
Santa Baby
So hurry to my coffin tonight

Santa Baby
may I dare to nibble you some
for fun
I'll wait up for you dear
Santa Baby
So hurry to my coffin tonight

Think of all the fun I've missed
Think of all the pretty pires I haven't kissed
Next year I could be just as good
If you check off my bloodstained list..

Santa Baby
just one bite and really that's not
a lot..
You won't feel even a prick
Santa Baby
So hurry to my coffin tonight

Santa Honey
one thing I really feel I need
indeed..
just some drops of your blood
Santa Baby
So hurry to my coffin tonight

Santa Darling
ignore the feeling of pending doom
and gloom..
Listen not to your fears
Santa Darling
Just hurry to my coffin tonight

Come and trim the churchyard tree
with blood red bubbles, shiny and for all to see
I place my dark soul's trust in you
Let's see if you will trust me too...

Santa Baby
some blood loss isn't really as bad
as said
Pale is the fashion this year
Santa Baby
So hurry to my coffin tonight

Hurry to my coffin tonight

Hurry.. tonight

In a little old town of Kentucky,
There's a legendary tale of Morgan's secret recipe.
It was the time of the Great Depression,
A lighthouse shone out for the weak and the hungry.
A Christian family of 12 with their roots from India.
A father of twin boys plus five brothers and three sisters,
They were not the mafia but neither were they saints,
Bank robbers and infamous thieves of the rich,
They opened a cookhouse, shelters homes, a school and a grocery store,
Regardless of race,language or belief they help the needy and poor,
And they had many enemies of the most famous and wealthy ,
But none could point a finger at their criminal activities,
And so it started with hired assassins and killers,
Once while leaving for church they survived from a street shootout,
And another time a group of mercenaries came to their house for bloodbath only to leave as changed men,
But that soon changed when a stranger rode into town,
A mission for crimson blood and a messenger sent,
He shot and killed the twins in broad daylight,
He was caught, tied in the courthouse by the town folks ready to be hang,
The grieved father came to him with sadness in his eyes,
He did the one thing no one would have thought at that time,
He freed the stranger and said,
I've lost my sons for the crimes I've done,
You've done what you've been sent for and now begone,
Blood beget blood,death follows a trail,
God has given you a second chance to change your evil thoughts,
Don't let it all gone to waste!

. . . . . . .continued