Portugee Sailor
The draw of the tide...
tugs away inside...
remembered rekindled emotion...
lived on the water ...
remember i ought...
Portugese, on the ocean..
cabin boy ..
on a 3 masted schooner...
we lived on salted pork...
the maggots they walked...
red meat went rotten the sooner..
In Timor it's said ..
we'd get fresh bread...
more chillies, beer by the jug..
first mate was casting the lead..
fathoms testing...
as into the harbour we lugged...
sailing round the Cape Horn ..
suicide borne..
over the side water torn..
ironic the twist
sinking forlorn....
no one there to mourn
drowning there did I exist... :)
where i went onetime....Don Johnson 17-may-11
Copyright © Don Johnson | Year Posted 2011
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment