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Sailing Home

Three in the morning and again I dream
of waves and windblown sails, driving us on.
A petulant ocean, its mood would seem 
somehow to echo mine, awaiting dawn.
Tossing and turning, creaking and groaning,
it’s an old man’s bones I hear, bemoaning.

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Valsa George

Date: 2/15/2023 7:57:00 PM

The wee hours of the morning is the usual time when dreams barge in. You must be in love with the sea and sailing ! That's why you see a petulant ocean, disturbed and ill tempered. You hear the roaring of waves, but it's the creaking sound of your own bones. Yes, life is a tedious voyage

Peter Rees
Date: 2/16/2023 10:24:00 AM

Thank you so much for this great comment.

Deb M

Date: 2/14/2023 6:11:00 AM

Hey Peter…l love poems also about the sea, lighthouses and anything nautical… it takes me away to wonderful places as did this lovely poem and a little giggle at the last linn!! Haha….Debx

Peter Rees
Date: 2/15/2023 1:34:00 AM

Thanks Deb. Glad you enjoyed your trip !

Joe Dimino

Date: 2/13/2023 2:09:00 PM

Love it! Peter. Long in love with the sea~ "Old Man And The Sea," and old man now myself, but no ancient marina, still a couple good voyages left...my great grandfather, captain of a vessel went down with his boat in the Mediterranean during a storm (that's what they did back then, sunk with their lady) -- so the sea is in my blood. Excellent write!

Peter Rees
Date: 2/15/2023 1:32:00 AM

So pleased you could relate to this with such feeling, Joe. It’s always interesting to know how my poems are interpreted .