Oh how it must have been to watch the ship
as bright flames licked the sky in Pitcairn bay,
before the Bounty's mighty hull would slip
with dear home England half a world away.
Along with dreams and hopes, regrets were drowned
- a cheer, a tear, for bittersweet release,
yet paradise is not so simply found
nor climates where the sins of conscience cease.
Two centuries had passed and dreams of yore
were carefully detailed in spar and mast;
Her Majesty's lost pride would sail once more
- the Bounty's tropic grave was not her last.
Its perfect likeness slipped and down the stairs,
the model broke apart beyond repair.
written - 1/27/19 for Movie Magic Contest
for Sponsor Gregory Barden
Subject Mutiny on the Bounty - Fletcher Christian and crew
ONCE
The pinnacle of life once -
I was lucky, blessed with three magical figures.
Walks in the fields, finger clutched for surety,
Learned to love kites in the garden,
Dug tons of beach castle sand,
Painted black footprints and jingled car-key reindeer bells,
And heads heavy on shoulder at night,
Kitten in bed as well.
And now the phone rarely rings
Emails have become as snailmails.
They are successes. Job well done.
But I miss my three magical figures -
Like the Pitcairn mutineers longing for home
Or an emigrant Scot hearing dream bagpipes.
Nothing lasts forever -
Tides wash away castles,
Kites lose buoyancy,
Walks reach their terminus,
Kittens become cats,
Stories in bed end with sleep.
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