Today is the perfect day to pull out some great rowing poetry to soothe a travelling rower’s soul. In this collection, we promise nostalgic rowing references with a father, a poem about how taxing rowing can be, a twist on an old nursery rhyme, and Ruth’s own haiku. Oh no.

But first, and closely related, a video on the poetry of rowing. This video captures something many of us can relate to whether in a crew or not – the struggle to awake in the early morn, followed by the incredible calm and beauty of moving over the water as the sun shifts the colour of the sky.

One can argue that penning a haiku is the easiest form of poetry, but the simple message and tightness of the haiku make it challenging. An ancient and traditional form of Japanese poetry, a haiku consists of three lines that rarely rhyme. The first and last lines have five syllables and the middle line has seven syllables.

On this website, there are more than two dozen haikus about rowing, all along the lines of this one, which we found poignant.

Sunrise on river
Sweet surprise of clear blue skies
Reflects in puddles

On a Rowing The World trip in Ireland, the group put together limericks, the equivalent of haiku in Ireland. Read the fine compilation in this blog post prosaically named Rowing Limericks from Ireland.

We love this next poem because it is about the urge to row in different places, what ultimately soothes a rowing traveller’s soul and motivates us at Rowing The World to create rowing trips in so many destinations. Philip Kuepper has a number of rowing poems. If you like this one, check out HeartheBoatSing for more.

To Simply Row Away

The urge to row,
mornings, that summer,
was about denial.
He did not want
life at university to be over.
He did not want
to enter the workforce.
He would take the year off
before he began
the long climb upward,
to what?
He still hadn’t decided
beyond rowing
after the morning he made
the decision to travel,
to test the waters of distant rivers.
He would row those rivers
he liked the sounds of the names of:
The Tallahatchie, the Guadalquivir, the Indus.
He had come too late
to row the Meander.
He would avoid the Styx,
as long as possible.
The “Street” would have to wait.
His blood ran rivers.

Philip Kuepper

www.heartheboatsing.com

Here’s one by Gallimaufry that received praise in the comments for his twist on an old nursery rhyme. Enjoy:

Row, Row, Row, Row,
Your boat,
Row, Row, Row, Row,
Row, Row, Row, Row,
Your boat, your boat.
Row, Row, Row, Row, Ro-Row.
Gently,
Gently,
Down.
Row, Row, Row,
Or forever you will be stuck on a body of water, never to step on dry land again or feel the touch of a loving body against your own.

www.allpoetry.com/poems/about/rowing

G-o-lik in his poem below, called “effort,” also from the same website, says “this poem was not written with an intended deeper meaning—it is about rowing, very, very taxing.” Read on to see if you agree.

effort

port, starboard
right, left
the blisters of my palm
sting as they burst
pushing, pulling
heaving, huffing
i peer around the hull
it rocks with every turn
tearful, worked
breathless, wheezing
the fire of my tendons
it burns my eyes
stopping, staring
trying, failing
glimpse the future
as i defy the rules
flying, trying
failing, failing
the bow calls “starboard”
and i weep my obedience

The following poem by Gary Brocks tells of a moment between father and son.

A Dream of my Father

I hear the carve of oars,
I see your palms enfold the wood,
as shards of stars shred
a back and glistening wave.

I hear the carve of oars,
the shore is breached,
we reach dank granite stairs, climb
a tower in moon gritty light.

I hear the carve of oars,
you speak, your turgid cheek
blue-steel-gray, your gaze grates,
my salt raged eyes summon waves and stars.

I hear the carve of oars,
waves rattle a candle’s flame,
chill the bed frame, the wet stony room ––
the door closes, it scrapes.

I hear the carve of oars,
I know your lurching gate,
the clank as both oar lock’s turn,
you slip the shore,
I hear the carve of oars

Copyright © 2002 Gary Brocks

www.hellopoetry.com

Just a little light fare, rowing poetry to soothe a travelling rower’s soul and balance the taxingness of rowing. To end, we give you Ruth’s own haiku, inspired by her recent trip on the Clarence River in Australia, which was so wonderful it will definitely be repeated.

Clarence, winding long.

River, fine, to row. Away.

Ergo, no erg. Go.

Hope you’re feeling soothed.