Not nearly long enough, a king’s words
what to expect from a tyrant's paradox absurd
making sure not a drop is lost as consumed
she holds the cobalt blue bowl to her lips
a grape tint gauze tied gently around her hips
it tells of an impregnated womb
a farewell toast to the warriors aboard ships
or a drink of what they’ll lack, that and more
of the destiny a young husband has in store
departing are ships, she ponders them upon the sea
the open book in front of her kept unread
behind her, replacement ships underway, as relief
what has been too long, for any sailor this dread
out at sea in despair of the unknowing, the grief
Of sailors jumping overboard, an S O S ignored
what any wife can’t bear, their king has no empathy
furious are the wives of the lies told
a sword has stricken through the hearts of gold
replacement ships finally, underway to relieve
what has been too long for any sailor out at sea
A tall white tower in stones I stretch high,
Towards the expanse or the starry sky;
I stay awake through all hours of the night,
Shining afar my steady, sparkling light.
Pitched at edge of land and sea crashing white,
It is my humble duty and delight
To guide sailors sail safely past the shore
And dread the squally stormy seas no more.
Even If storms should turn the sky to lead,
My beam ever remains where sailors tread;
Even when thunder shakes the hollow ground
I direct them to the shore, safe and sound.
Beyond the reach of warmth and far from home
Sailors trust my tower through mist and foam;
They track the trail of my bright rhythmic glow
Despite the whirling waves and tides below.
My years flit by in midst of salt and spray,
My paints from my walls are peeling away,
Yet still I hold darkness of night at bay
Until the safe and soft return of day.
Signal Hill dressed in white spring daisies
Below in harbour yachts set sail for Rio
Table Bay tessellated turquoise with sailors in paisleys
Southern wind sent them gallant like Galileo ~
Rum do,
Drunk crew.
9 / 30 / 2025.
When you learn that your heroes are demons
And nothing lives up to its promise
And that all this time, you were only dreaming
And there never was such a thing as ‘honest’
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a saddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When that whale of your loss outwits you
And you’re hobbled and crippled, not a leg to stand on
May your friends be there when it suddenly hits you
There's at least one post you can abandon
(Called life)
Disappointment
Deflation
It’s a maddening situation
So screw up the compass
Fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdy land
But don’t look to me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
When the sails of clarity cease to guide you
Or protect you from the swirls of Sirens,
There’s this stubborn and strange little fire inside you
With the patience of saints and the pride of lions
Set your moral compass
And fire the brand
Keep setting the course for sturdier land
But don’t look at me for navigation,
Ye sailors of the drowning heart
Sixteen sailors strode into a pub,
Then a group of them left to get some grub.
Those who remained got into a fight,
With some locals who drank there every night.
Although the sailors did outnumber
The locals (who were also dumber),
Two sailors shy of a ratio of two-to-one,
The seafarers lost and the locals had won.
But then exactly half who had left for food,
Returned to the pub in a foul mood.
One local had left, a man named Tor,
Until the ratio was the reverse of what it was before,
Even though the beaten sailors couldn't fight,
The fresh sailors versus the locals, all right!
Don't ask me how it went,
For I will forever remain silent.
But could you determine how many sailors
Could be considered failures,
Because they went to get grub
And didn't return to the pub
Never swinging a punch nor taking a fall,
Against the locals at all?
Altho' fearless it was flightless
I do declare
and when it found itself earthbound
was the dodo despondent in despair
or even think
it would become extinct
if it knew it was in
deep doo-doo
somewhat akin
to the the missing link
unafraid of man
who thought them dumb
as they come
on the quiet
an easy prey for sailors
a whole new different dinner diet
but there was nothing to be done
for suspiciously delicious
history they could never outrun
or ever leave Mauritius
Solitary seafarer sings sea chanties,
salty sea breeze serenity,
sea birds skim waves,
suddenly, so many sailors' souls
of the sunken WW II ship USS Indianapolis
started singing sonorous,
soaring from sea sepulcher,
stirring sacrifice so sacred,
such sorrow,
souls still scintillating, still seaward,
servicemen shipmates solemnized,
seared, sealed in spiritual solidarity,
salute. ~
The ocean is a brimming bountiful beauty,
of whales, porpoises, dolphins, seahorses,
fish, seabirds, plankton, algae,
sparkling brine of emerald and blue.
Her dead are entombed in her eternal body,
she rises in the merciless storms,
with waves that toss many craft.
Yet, she also lies smoothly as a
sleeping kitten,
mariner's timeless sea chanties in the
winds.
She is envious of the sailor's love
for mermaids,
as she calls them from ports with
her lure.
She's undiscovered in
some ways,
oceanographers still learning.
She must not be overharvested,
she needs to replenish her strength.
Always wondrous and courted
by the mystique of the moon,
warm and bright in the tropical sun,
colder in the North's barren heart.
The great deep-
her legend in literature, art, and song. ~
Some say your words act as a balm
A fleet of sweet tidings
Sailing into a gray dawn.
With white sails riding
On the heels of a grand mast
That sways without invoking
A need for true ballast.
It seems as though your rage
That spars with mine among the waves
Has now chosen to disengage
From me among the graves...
Of sailors lost at sea
Displaced by blithely prying winds
And now what will become of me?
Whose multitude of sins
Imply that my veracity
Contends with your tenacity.
Hy-Brasil
Out a’high in lashin’ waves
a’crashin’ anger’d sea
b’yond Albion an’ Hibernia
where mists a’shadow’d, lowly
o’ magical Isle o’ Hy-Brasil
tentacl’d ocean beast ther’ tore
fear’d sailors away lest they would set
o’er realms o’Gods who saw
o’ bare foot giants wi’ call o’ crow
blacken’d eyes an’ skies sang red
they threw th’ rocks in war’s a’haze
their sea’s a’wet wi’ blood
upon Hibernia’s shore they fled
left myth n’ myst-eries
devour’d by a mighty beast
etern’ wi’ At-lan-tis
Two seamen sought to sail the sea
to see the seething sea, you see.
This could have happened in B.C.
but no — they saw the modern sea.
In 2023 A.D.
the sea was like the sea B.C.
which is unlike the CBC
with no connection to the sea
but somewhat like the BBC
which does resemble the B.C.
without the extra C., you see?
I see.
A leisurely coffee, conversation
that barely makes it across
the table before slipping back
into silence, shapes passing by
shadowed in the blurr
of their growing distance.
They gather at ten, old men,
landlocked yet in their mind’s aegean,
letting out their long nets
beneath a vast shopping center ceiling
arching over them like an endless sky,
horizons drawing them further out
to where, one day, they won’t return.
Moorings anew are easy as thought,
Vessels tethered, fixed as weather,
By an anchor, a person, or an idea,
Sure to shore up evidence of defense, of itself.
With every wave, memory fades soft as morning fog,
Providing wet hiding and reinforcing ties,
Binding us together, on shores of security,
Like seamen seining a weir of our own making.
Forgetting respawns our willingness,
To be encircled again, within a radius of safety,
Ropes with a constricting reach, endless limitations,
As far away as the unmovable horizon in view.
Then we float into the final harbor,
Less grounded, ethereal anchorage more stable,
Rites of arrival unknown, moored in others still,
Slipping in, your past adrift, reborn under a new gable.
BEACHCOMBER
You comb the beaches
Detailed to the inches
At least you might be fortunate
To get even a wanton mate
Your line you carry
You look like one in hurry
But your eyes are sharp
Ready to the unlucky one map
The bait is appetizing
Drooping with mock rejoicing
But microbes it sports
Found in promiscuous ports
But sailors on it fall
And purge their worries -- all
After paying the toll
Then you automatically smoke them over the rack
With ss behind your bare back
You examine your levy
And say, They die of envy
Your heart is never heavy
But your speech is wavy
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