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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required We sat and talked together that day As he reminisced in his usual way That old uncle of mine and me How he had growing up in Port Adelaide and he loved the sea For in his youth he climbed the rigging so bravely As a wooden ketch sailed in the South Australian waters so easily For in those days there was no road transport And the ketches were the lifeblood from each port The wheat and the wool in the hold when the work was done Bringing their cargo to the city with each voyage won He spoke of what it was like as his tale was told A handful of men versus the sea so bold Sailing on the ocean’s blue waves When the wind blew the sails and the masts swayed as they gave No matter the weather the ship ahead sailed For to yield to the sea meant the voyage had failed He liked the freedom of the ketch and the sea And how he loved to climb the mast as a sight to see No one else on the ketch braved the mast When the wind blew hard in your face to make you gasp And I could tell by his eyes he wished he were there On the mast with the spray on his face and the wind in his hair Now that was years past and the ketches don’t sail For those times have passed into history’s tale And the men who sailed them are gone With no living history left so forlorn But I wonder if there are still ghostly sails Taking these old men to heaven where the wind never fails. © Paul Warren Poetry
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