and post notes and photos about your poem like Tom Cunningham.
Image owned by juliangrant.com.
Atlantic storms had taken the main mast
For seven weeks we drifted helplessly
Fresh water and food were running out fast
There was talk below deck of mutiny.
Hunger, boredom and thirst were taking grip
As a boy I saw the dark side of men
To keep order the captain used the whip
I feared we would never see home again.
A sailor on watch shouted "land ahoy"
The wind picked up and drifted us along
Crew were happy and were now full of joy
Some sang the shanty, the wanderer's song.
Captain Smith cried out it is the Azores
The beautiful sight of its distant shores.
Written on 19th June 2018
Copyright © Tom Cunningham | Year Posted 2018