Best Steersman Poems
Listen and you can hear the wind whisper
the name of a lost ship and its skipper.
The wind’s name is Favonius, winged god
His sotto voce is but a whimper.
Gentle breeze doth tell of China Clipper
Bound back toward London by English shipper
Lost from sight ten days out of Adelaide
for all those involved a real fear gripper.
Fast Lammermuir was used in the tea trade,
Built by W. Pile’s Company twas then made
Clipper’s capacity a thousand tons
With errant compass windjammer now strayed
Off course by three degrees vessel now runs,
till Mate’s use of sextant now captain stuns
Ocean current is also a surprise
This phenomenon Captain Bell now shuns
The current wants to go counter clockwise
Loss of ship’s control is what this implies
Sails unable to give pull to the right
though steersman at wheel with strength vainly tries
Lammermuir was in a terrible fight
Not turning right was a dangerous plight
All hands on deck knew their situation
Hard battle continued both day and night
Exactly where was their lost location
Question captain sought with much vexation
Average speed of Jammer was fifteen knots
Get back on course or it’s their damnation
No welcome sight of other ships or yachts
Current’s tying captain’s stomach in knots
Break free now or else certain death will come
Possibility gives worrisome thoughts.
New day same latitude they’d started from
A three hundred mile circle left all numb
From circling current they couldn’t break free
Trying all things they refused to succumb.
Lighten ship over the side went the tea
Sails pulled harder still that wasn’t the key
Rear stern chaser was next without effect
Flying, scared lady raced over the sea
Caught fast in a maelstrom of no escape
Swirling in circles of concentric shape
Ever decreasing circumference toward hole
Ever increasing speed toward yawing gape
West wind speaks no more of piteous sight
Wraps wings to cover eyes from ship’s bad plight
Finis, finis, Lammermuir sails no more
Ending day ends in blanket of black night.
Distance To London From Adelaide is:
10110 miles / 16270.47 km / 8785.35 nautical miles
Distance To Shanghai From Adelaide is:
4706 miles / 7573.57 km / 4089.4 nautical miles
Start your anchor boat steersman
Sun declines in the west
The new wife awaiting
on the near bank
Hope to return to own land
That free air
unbound movements
The rice cake and
Cares of blood.
Go, boatman!
She is lonely
Maybe she is crying
To back home;
To forget old memories
Maybe the husband left her
She is surmounting a difficulty
Cross the river safely helmsman
She has to reach her lap
She needs love again
The Indian Ocean is mean and deep
And careless sailing often death doth reap
It’s wild and vast a lonesome place to be
Needing to ply these waters has no glee
Angry relentless waves tall meters high
And troughs below seem to hide sails from sky
There’s no release from swirling spay and foam
Steersman needs lion’s heart to bring us home
Course is set by compass, not by sextant
Person who sent us here has a hellish bent.
(A throw-back piece, a breakup poem from high school)
What a lonely, peculiar, eccentric figure I must be. A girl, in a garden, crying at an iPad, in the dark.
Earlier, at school...
It was a clear spelling out, like steel cuts thru fruit.
As he spoke, he looked down and away, his gorgeous face blank and indifferent, as if I were wasting his time or he was talking to a child needing an obvious truth taught quickly.
When he finally looked back at me, I saw no pity in his impersonal, hazel eyes.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I needed time to contemplate the universe's new laws.
Can a girl just suddenly die of heartache?? because I was sure my heart had stopped, locked and frozen.
Finally, I gasped in this impossible new air—the force of it made me hold the cold-iron stair railing—the game is rough.
He's so—male—all chase and careless passion—intelligent teaser, a skilled steersman of excited climates... Oh, you simply have no idea.
And now he was, gone—still there physically—but gone to me—as if he'd transformed into a hologram or had begun to orbit some other sun, he just...
"You made me feel special." I said.
I had lost my balance on this faithless and unequal world, where heaven so cruelly punishes desires.
"You made me feel I mattered, such a favor." I said, absentmindedly, as I turned, and went back up the three steps into school.
I don't think I looked back at him as the door closed. After all, he wasn't there anymore.
I think he called my name, like a question...
.
.
Song for this:
Still Is Still Moving to Me (with Willie Nelson) by Toots & The Maytals
Helpless by The Cleaners From Venus
BOAT TRIP
It was a short enough trip - an hour’s
Travel with few diversions near
Which filled us with joy, or brought a tear:
Just different spots between showers.
Fellow passengers showed kindness:
A stranger became a friend,
Kids fell asleep in the end,
Steersman kept a steady progress.
Finally, coming into port,
It didn’t matter where we’d been
Or what we’d seen.
It was a fruitful trip of a pleasant sort.
On display, million dollar vessel in canal's sunk tide
Tucked away, among mangrove mud clotted denial
Puce pearl oily oyster tender is tenebrous, enduring
Glorified twilit stygian tomb stratum, fruit forbidden
Subtly shell punctured soluble beach, myriad shards
Enigmatic still with wetness' enhance, violet invites
Transferral from rigorous guard to transfixed vouyer
Probing unknown, chin agitated by revelation's rush
Patron wary of sandbar swayed by his colossal wake
Thaumaturge paramour aperture, a mollusc's burrow
Gasp, splutter, passage - sanctum, envelop and cove
Obstinate bow, depth sounding judge of her operandi
Taste bud enticement taramasalata melt into biscuit
Stalwart Steersman, sweet repertoire most romantic
Whale taming fables embrocate mute hearts smooth
Pourboire urges matinee performance, raised salutes
Second March
- set sail on money seas -
Reconcile from reality, - enjoyable voyage!
What a lonely, peculiar, eccentric figure i must be. A girl, in a garden, crying at an iPad, in the dark.
Earlier, at school...
It was a clear spelling out, like steel cuts thru fruit.
As he spoke he looked down and away, his gorgeous face blank and indifferent, as if I were wasting his time or he was talking to a child needing an obvious truth taught quickly.
When he finally looked back at me, I saw no pity in his impersonal, hazel eyes.
I couldn't breathe, I couldn't think, I needed time to contemplate the universe's new laws.
Can a girl just suddenly die of heart-ache?? because I was sure my heart had stopped, locked and frozen.
Finally, I gasped in this impossible new air - the force of it made me hold the cold-iron stair railing - the game is rough.
He's so... male - all chase and careless passion - intelligent teaser, a skilled steersman of excited climates... Oh, you simply have no idea.
And now he was, gone, still there, but gone to me - as if he'd transformed into a hologram or had begun to orbit some other sun, he just...
"You made me feel special." I said.
I had lost my balance on this faithless and unequal world, where heaven so cruelly punishes desires.
"You made me feel I mattered, such a favor." I said, absentmindedly, as I turned, and went back up the three steps into school.
I don't think I looked back at him as the door closed. After all, he wasn't there any more.
I think he called my name, like a question...
The steersman dry-heaves
into rolling scuppers,
the skipper dozes fitfully in his sodden berth
spew dribbling from a tossed piss pot.
The deck is also heaving; for three days
the rain-lashed ship has rode the high waves,
shipping sea into cabins and holds,
wind-torn canvas were carried away,
a shattered mainmast dragging the wallowing hull,
and the storm still growling in the winds teeth.
The crew are battened down and sick,
but sea-chests and dunnage must be stacked
clews, lines, and tackle winched, cinched, or tarred,
rubble and timber hacked and swept overboard.
The nimble must climb gratings,
grapple unhitched rigging, go aloft
to knot and unravel torn nettings
and flying ropes.
Then from a swaying crows-nest
a lookout sees a distant storm gull:
“Sighting! Steer away,” comes a gusty shout.
Now the quick dry throats of boson and bosons mate
roar the crew to their stations.
The clipper shudders, comes about,
foresails backing and filling.
The craft luffs and tacks to race ahead of the gale
following that feathered rumor of hope and landfall.
The ships log narrated all this, and more,
when it surfaced to float in a plastic kiddy pool
somewhere near the Jersey shore.
Joy in work means joy in life,
And where none shirk there is no strife.
Bear down there, young man;
The wheel's in your hand.
Steady, set to it;
You know you can!
The glorious softness of multi-colored earth
And the glad straight rows of man, proving worth.
Side by side, in perfect pride,
The river roars down,
The boat puffs up.
One stands in front to point the way;
One in the middle to blast "Okay!"
Back by the flag, in stern control,
The Clermont's steersman sees the goal.
I know what I know;
I see what I see;
No socialist government
Will ever stop me.
Busy, growing, smokey, mighty Pittsburgh,
Whose labor have you not lightened?
Whose roads and houses not rolled or nailed,
hardened, strengthened?
What magnificent cities sparkle now because of thee?
Busy, growing, smokey, mighty Pittsburgh!
Well, dog, you better run;
I'm going to work!