Swimming Poems

Popular Swimming Poems
Mulga Bill's Bicycle
by Banjo Paterson

'Twas Mulga Bill, from Eaglehawk, that caught the cycling craze;
He turned away the good old horse that served him many days;
He dressed himself in cycling clothes, resplendent to be seen;
He hurried off to town and bought a shining new machine;
And as he wheeled it through the door, with air of lordly pride,
The grinning shop assistant said, "Excuse me, can you ride?"
"See here, young man," said Mulga Bill, "from Walgett to the sea,
From Conroy's Gap to Castlereagh, there's none can ride like me.
I'm good all round at everything, as everybody knows,
Although I'm not the one to talk - I hate a man that blows.

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The Old Chimaeras. Old Recipts
by Robert Louis Stevenson

THE old Chimaeras, old receipts
For making "happy land,"
The old political beliefs
Swam close before my hand.

The grand old communistic myths
In a middle state of grace,
Quite dead, but not yet gone to Hell,
And walking for a space,


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The Song Of Yesterday
by James Whitcomb Riley

I
But yesterday
I looked away
O'er happy lands, where sunshine lay
In golden blots,
Inlaid with spots
Of shade and wild forget-me-nots.

My head was fair
With flaxen hair,

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Love Letter
by Gjertrud Schnackenberg

Dear love, though I am a hopeless correspondent,
I found your letter habits lacking too
Till I received your card from H.-lulu.
It made me more-than-slightly-less despondent
To see how you transformed your ocean swim
Among dumb bubble-blowers into meters
And daffy rhymes about exotic tweeters
Beyond your balcony at 2 a.m.

I went to bed when you went to Hawaii,

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Sheep
by Connie Coss

In my opinion, for what it's worth,
Sheep are the dumbest animals on earth.
One sheep will start to wander and the rest will fall in line,
Where ever the lead one wants to go, the rest think that's just fine.
Now sheep don't like the water, except to drink a little bit.
You try to get their wool wet, they'll likely have a fit.
Sometimes they will lay down to rest and stay right where they lie.
If you don't go and kick them up, they'll lay right there and die.
That's why I think Jesus was always telling his crew,
"Feed my sheep and watch over them and see that they don't stray, too."

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Recent Swimming Poems
Sink, Float, Swim
by Benjamin Wolf

I kept it to myself
And while you slept I witnessed things that words can not give life to.

You know me oh so well
But I can’t bear to place this weight into your hands, my burdens are just for me to carry.

We laughed just for a moment.
You smiled through tears after that,
But you don’t look at me the same.


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A Calf Love Crisis
by Carl Halling

I couldn’t be more sure
Of all the nostalgia I’d endure,
If I were to explore
A calf love crisis
That was so hard to cure,

How your mummy, she knew mine,
They’d been friends
For a little time,
And the time that you explained,

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A Woman Waits For Me
by Walt Whitman

A WOMAN waits for me--she contains all, nothing is lacking,
Yet all were lacking, if sex were lacking, or if the moisture of the
right man were lacking.

Sex contains all,
Bodies, Souls, meanings, proofs, purities, delicacies, results,
promulgations,
Songs, commands, health, pride, the maternal mystery, the seminal
milk;
All hopes, benefactions, bestowals,

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Leaves Of Grass. A Carol Of Harvest For 1867
by Walt Whitman

A SONG of the good green grass!
A song no more of the city streets;
A song of farms--a song of the soil of fields.

A song with the smell of sun-dried hay, where the nimble pitchers
handle the pitch-fork;
A song tasting of new wheat, and of fresh-husk'd maize.
For the lands, and for these passionate days, and for myself,
Now I awhile return to thee, O soil of Autumn fields,
Reclining on thy breast, giving myself to thee,

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I Sing The Body Electric
by Walt Whitman

I SING the Body electric;
The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth them;
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the
Soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal
themselves;
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the
dead?

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  • Benjamin Wolf
    Benjamin Wolf (1 poems about Swimming)
    Southern Illinois / Brooklyn, NY