Oilskin Poems | Examples


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Premium Member Four Cafes

Chantilly lace curtains of my apartment window ripple in the cold January night. From here, I observe mooring lights that illumine the docks in this petty northern port and four cafés that lean toward one another, side-by-side, though separate and apart. I wonder at their co-location. Their twinkling lights blur together in a loud kaleidoscope of color.

The harbor winds carry putrid odors to my window. Sidewalk signs cover most of the walkway. Though too distant to register detail, I discern the outline in flickering neon of two women outside the smallest café as men clad in oilskin foulies lumber into the second, barely a bar, as they all are. Faint modern dance rhythms announce a tiny dance floor inside the third. The brightest café-bar has no one visible. A lone figure in casual attire moves from café to café, not staying long. He moves in the same pattern, over and again, stopping once to chat with the women. I wonder what or who he seeks. The women disappear down a side pathway.

With a desultory outlook for the evening, I close my window, wrap against the cold, and descend the European-styled spiral staircase.

Whaling In 1844

WHALING      IN     1844


All  hands  came  aboard
In March we left Deptford
Bound for Greenland’s whales  and
Rather it was Wales’s green  land.

The lookout on the mainmast  tied
Saw her  white spout  and cried
“Thar   she    blows,   mates”
And  the  shellbacks   straight

Manned the harpoon boats
Pulling tight their oilskin coats
Even in the teeth of the squall  
Captain Thomas called to overhaul

Boats were lowered and men aboard
Thinking of their whale-reward
Harpoon struck and the line paid out
She leapt with pain and turned about

The blue tail went skyward
Here was their whale reward
Smash into the boat and five 
Floating men no longer alive

Losing the men  was adverse
But losing the whale was a curse
The school would disperse 
Affecting each man’s purse            

The Baffin  ice was thicker now
Under the yards, under the prow
So we set sail for England half-full
And ran  south our icy hull

Home  now and a short-time lull
We’ll soon  be back for another cull.

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