a port for boats has lots of boats docked there. port is like portal, and i think of a channel that things travel through. sounds like porka, which is what my grandmother would call fat people. not to be crude, just the truth. there are airports where millions come and go throughout the day.
Nannie drank port when she breasted her babies. She said it would thicken the milk. I preferred sherry. It was a bond of sweetness we shared across the dry sober bridge of my mother.
There I sat, eating dinner at a semi-classy restaurant. My table for one, out on the balcony facing the river screamed “LONELY LOSER!” in the faces of all passers-by.
The Port of Milwaukee. Every time I see that exit on 794 i think of friction dance company. of the amazing opportunity that was. of the fact that i almost didn’t do it. of the fact that i did. of the fact that friction made me rediscover dance and what it meant to me. its more than an exit. its a reminder of who i am.
I had an ex boyfriend once who wrote a song about Wilmington, also known as “Port City.” It was a really cute song, and when we were dating, it brought me a sense of happiness. However, we broke up and now when I listen to that song, I experience a range of emotions. But I still like the song a lot.
AIRPORT? Umm.. sure. That’s what I think of at think of at least. I actually like flying. And airports are perfect for people watching. My best friend and I met OSU football players in the Columbus airport this summer. :)
The port of Avingard was beautiful. It was mixed with every kind of person in the world. Whores in silk hoods, rough-mouthed sailors, anxious wives, dirty children. I felt alive for the first time in the world. I could taste the salty sea breeze, and a thrill ran through me. I searched the crowds until I saw him. I began to feel hopeless, until I saw a familiar green hat. My heart lifted, and I ran into his arms. Turning with a wry grin, he shouted, and caught me.
the port of the bay will always lead to something beautiful. it leads to the ocean, a place of thought, wonder and imagination. somewhere to gaze when you have no where to turn. a mysterious place, filled with wonder, and serenity.
At the airport I waited several hours for my late flight. A strange man passed me by multiple times. He had long, greasy hair and an open sore on his forehead. He seemed to have crazy eyes.
Waiting at the port, the lover stood. Waiting. She’s looking for the man who makes the waves crash into the shore. She’s looking for her lighthouse. She stood and she stood. From morning to afternoon. She began to lose hope. Where is her lover? Did he choose to disappear into the sea, or disappear from her heart?
The ship pulled into port and unloaded it’s passengers. A young child watched the fish in the ocean, for the first time and giggled happily. The mother smiled serenely at the child’s happiness and was glad she had taken her children with her. Until the older boy pulled his sister’s hair and they started screaming at each other. “This will be fun…” The mother looked for her oldest and saw her dragging the screaming children toward her.
“Hard to port!!” The Captain yelled urging his men, their black flags being raised. The command echoed through the ship as the men turned. Terrian raced up from below deck. Were they being attacked?! He climbed up to the crows nest, searching for Lan. She was there, watching out ahead. “What is it?” He asked her, grabbing her spy glass.
“Nuthin’ good, Princess.” She growled. He peered through the glass, his heart stopping for a moment when he saw the Royal Seal, adorning the enemy ship. His Brother’s seal. He had been found.
The port of all the world would sit between mountains, on a rocky shore somewhere along the coast of a continent whose weather never drops below fifty degrees. It would be adorned with ships from all the world: tall ones, short ones, colorful ones and drab ones. On the docks, a hundred languages would be heard at any given time, and a thousand more spoken and unnoticed. And it would see blood, the likes of which would never flow at any other place in time.
the port was eerily silent. the ships that filled the barge at noonday were still out at sea. Katherine knew something was wrong. She felt in her heart that she would never see david again.
The ocean rose up to meet Adelaide. She skittered away, even though she was standing on a raised wooden dock. Her back fell against Oliver’s chest.
“Scaredy-cat.” He said. It was a mocking tone but he placed his hand on her head gently and steered her away from the port. “I guess we won’t watch the boats come in anymore.”
Sitting by the fire
full moon aglow
looking into her eyes as we sip on a tasty port
In these moments, I realize how deeply I fall in love with her each day
We began our drive to the port at which our ship would be docked. I’m so excited that it is unreal! I cant wait to feel the smooth breeze and smell the fresh water.
They sat on a tiger pelt and drank port. He thought that he would rather be sipping on a fifth of whiskey. She thought this had to be the most romantic moment of her life.
there was a ship at the port on the day they left me. it was raining. i remember the blue rusted metal and smell of the ocean as i stood on the corner street.
any port in a storm is an old but true saying . it is often said during times of need or crisis. comfort can be provided even if it is not the ideal spot one desired.
Dock me in port
let me wash unto the yellow sands
pulled from the depths
of a great unknown
tossed onto the shores of suffering
unable to
decide
which is the true hell
Port, she liked the sound of the name, so her newborn carried the name with her. Port. Growing up she never knew what her mothers obsession spawned from, all she could guess was that perhaps her father had been a sailor. Port? Such a silly name. But her mother loved it. She thought it was beautiful.
The window off the port side of the ship looks onto a large, open expanse of nothing at all. The starboard shows lang and carries just a hint of a reminder of a fine wine drunk one day between two not-quite-lovers.
any port in a storm will do. as will a good tawny port after a yummy dinner. i can smell it now, and know it’ll be warm and fuzzy going down. Not fuzzy in a “hey there’s mold on that” kind of way, but more like a good sweater.
Out by the sea. It broke and spilled forth, and she wasnt sure if she was happy anymore. Her toes found the sand and in between her feet she was home. But the oceans waves beckoned. To drag her under, she knew how to swim. She wanted to learn how to drown. All too soon all too late.
Lucy stood beside the port, clutching her shawl with cold fingers. She was tired from a restless night, but she would wait here until she saw white sails on the grey-blue horizon. It was the least she could do for the man who had taken pity on her; the man she wished she could love.
Didn’t some place start as like a porting community…?
Oh, yeah. FerryPORT Landing, NY.
Well, now that that odd little… thing is over…
Wait, what?
a port for boats has lots of boats docked there. port is like portal, and i think of a channel that things travel through. sounds like porka, which is what my grandmother would call fat people. not to be crude, just the truth. there are airports where millions come and go throughout the day.
Nannie drank port when she breasted her babies. She said it would thicken the milk. I preferred sherry. It was a bond of sweetness we shared across the dry sober bridge of my mother.
There I sat, eating dinner at a semi-classy restaurant. My table for one, out on the balcony facing the river screamed “LONELY LOSER!” in the faces of all passers-by.
The scene was straight out of foggy London and a Sherlock Holmes mystery including the sea port.
i went to the ship port, to say goodbye to him. he kissed me.
he could hear the bombs overhead when it happened.
they brought me back his body in a casket.
The Port of Milwaukee. Every time I see that exit on 794 i think of friction dance company. of the amazing opportunity that was. of the fact that i almost didn’t do it. of the fact that i did. of the fact that friction made me rediscover dance and what it meant to me. its more than an exit. its a reminder of who i am.
I had an ex boyfriend once who wrote a song about Wilmington, also known as “Port City.” It was a really cute song, and when we were dating, it brought me a sense of happiness. However, we broke up and now when I listen to that song, I experience a range of emotions. But I still like the song a lot.
AIRPORT? Umm.. sure. That’s what I think of at think of at least. I actually like flying. And airports are perfect for people watching. My best friend and I met OSU football players in the Columbus airport this summer. :)
The port of Avingard was beautiful. It was mixed with every kind of person in the world. Whores in silk hoods, rough-mouthed sailors, anxious wives, dirty children. I felt alive for the first time in the world. I could taste the salty sea breeze, and a thrill ran through me. I searched the crowds until I saw him. I began to feel hopeless, until I saw a familiar green hat. My heart lifted, and I ran into his arms. Turning with a wry grin, he shouted, and caught me.
wine
portly
harbour
pirates
you could go anywhere.
i was always afraid one day
you’d set sail
to far off places with foreign
tongues and bright, sunlit colors.
i never wanted you to learn how to live.
a gate of steel laced with years of mold and neglect
separated us from the real world.
you thought there was more to it, i felt this was
enough.
the port of the bay will always lead to something beautiful. it leads to the ocean, a place of thought, wonder and imagination. somewhere to gaze when you have no where to turn. a mysterious place, filled with wonder, and serenity.
At the airport I waited several hours for my late flight. A strange man passed me by multiple times. He had long, greasy hair and an open sore on his forehead. He seemed to have crazy eyes.
The port was where she and her lover were separated.
The port will be where she and her lover are reunited again.
Waiting at the port, the lover stood. Waiting. She’s looking for the man who makes the waves crash into the shore. She’s looking for her lighthouse. She stood and she stood. From morning to afternoon. She began to lose hope. Where is her lover? Did he choose to disappear into the sea, or disappear from her heart?
The ship pulled into port and unloaded it’s passengers. A young child watched the fish in the ocean, for the first time and giggled happily. The mother smiled serenely at the child’s happiness and was glad she had taken her children with her. Until the older boy pulled his sister’s hair and they started screaming at each other. “This will be fun…” The mother looked for her oldest and saw her dragging the screaming children toward her.
I sip from the port wine in my hand as I lie in the tub filled with warm, sudsy water.
“Hard to port!!” The Captain yelled urging his men, their black flags being raised. The command echoed through the ship as the men turned. Terrian raced up from below deck. Were they being attacked?! He climbed up to the crows nest, searching for Lan. She was there, watching out ahead. “What is it?” He asked her, grabbing her spy glass.
“Nuthin’ good, Princess.” She growled. He peered through the glass, his heart stopping for a moment when he saw the Royal Seal, adorning the enemy ship. His Brother’s seal. He had been found.
the word “port” somehow evokes something sentimental or romantic, though i don’t have any specific experience. i see a port at night, illuminated…
The port of all the world would sit between mountains, on a rocky shore somewhere along the coast of a continent whose weather never drops below fifty degrees. It would be adorned with ships from all the world: tall ones, short ones, colorful ones and drab ones. On the docks, a hundred languages would be heard at any given time, and a thousand more spoken and unnoticed. And it would see blood, the likes of which would never flow at any other place in time.
the port was eerily silent. the ships that filled the barge at noonday were still out at sea. Katherine knew something was wrong. She felt in her heart that she would never see david again.
You’re just like a sailor.
He was puzzled by the comment, seeing as how he had never even been far enough to see the ocean. “How?”
“You’ve got a girl in every bar, like a sailor has one in every port. Don’t pretend I’m the only one you run to.”
The port welcomed many a craft. From vast airships that ruled the skies, to the unsinkable battleships that commanded the seas.
The ocean rose up to meet Adelaide. She skittered away, even though she was standing on a raised wooden dock. Her back fell against Oliver’s chest.
“Scaredy-cat.” He said. It was a mocking tone but he placed his hand on her head gently and steered her away from the port. “I guess we won’t watch the boats come in anymore.”
Sitting by the fire
full moon aglow
looking into her eyes as we sip on a tasty port
In these moments, I realize how deeply I fall in love with her each day
We began our drive to the port at which our ship would be docked. I’m so excited that it is unreal! I cant wait to feel the smooth breeze and smell the fresh water.
They sat on a tiger pelt and drank port. He thought that he would rather be sipping on a fifth of whiskey. She thought this had to be the most romantic moment of her life.
there was a ship at the port on the day they left me. it was raining. i remember the blue rusted metal and smell of the ocean as i stood on the corner street.
any port in a storm is an old but true saying . it is often said during times of need or crisis. comfort can be provided even if it is not the ideal spot one desired.
Dock me in port
let me wash unto the yellow sands
pulled from the depths
of a great unknown
tossed onto the shores of suffering
unable to
decide
which is the true hell
Port, she liked the sound of the name, so her newborn carried the name with her. Port. Growing up she never knew what her mothers obsession spawned from, all she could guess was that perhaps her father had been a sailor. Port? Such a silly name. But her mother loved it. She thought it was beautiful.
Port to starboard, cap’n!
The window off the port side of the ship looks onto a large, open expanse of nothing at all. The starboard shows lang and carries just a hint of a reminder of a fine wine drunk one day between two not-quite-lovers.
any port in a storm will do. as will a good tawny port after a yummy dinner. i can smell it now, and know it’ll be warm and fuzzy going down. Not fuzzy in a “hey there’s mold on that” kind of way, but more like a good sweater.
the port was green. and full of oranges. so butifull you would even know it . i love it. when i lay there if feel happy. that is port crazy.
i hate going into tunnels, there are so much like an air port tunnel. and those are scary!
Out by the sea. It broke and spilled forth, and she wasnt sure if she was happy anymore. Her toes found the sand and in between her feet she was home. But the oceans waves beckoned. To drag her under, she knew how to swim. She wanted to learn how to drown. All too soon all too late.
Lucy stood beside the port, clutching her shawl with cold fingers. She was tired from a restless night, but she would wait here until she saw white sails on the grey-blue horizon. It was the least she could do for the man who had taken pity on her; the man she wished she could love.
“What year is this?”
He looked down at the glass in his hand, the port staring back at him with a muddled reflection. He frowned.
“Um, last year, I think.”
“It’s good,” said his date for the night, and she sipped her glass delicately. “Mah-velous. You have good tastes.”
He didn’t really try to have good tastes. But then again, he always seemed to pick up snooty girls.