Ghost Ship
(Those who are familiar with the legend of
"The Flying Dutchman," or even the Wagnerian
opera with that title, will find it easy to
get into this poem; if not, I urge you to
check it out. Within the saga of the
eponymous captain and the endless repetition
of his seven-year sentence, it is a
fantastic tale of mystery, and still has
its mesmerizing effect upon me)
It is quiet on the bay
and boistrous on the shore;
the ship awaits its destiny,
romance awaits its foil and soon
departure claims its troth
above the lovers' agony,
beyond adventure's lore.
The sails are turned again to open sea,
the mast is high, all hands on deck,
and through the mist is scanned
the pathos on their faces,
eyes upon the land, and hearts
upon the lea they'll never cross again.
The Hollander is resolute,
the capstan locked, the deep possessed
for yet another seven years
of still horizon, salt upon the lips
and tales once more down in the hold
of tragic irony,
of love forever left behind.
Now in the night off foreign shores
when that dark hull appears
within the fog, or just above the clouds,
the captain might be seen alone
behind the wheel, and silent
as he listens for a distant bell
to sound the dawning
of his wedding day.
~
Copyright © Robert Ludden | Year Posted 2013
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