Short Scuppers Poems

Sonnet 18 – Well, kind of...

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
I said sunscreen would have stopped you burning.
Thou art more lovely and more temperate,
but at times, sorry, just so damn messy.
By thy eternal summer shall not fade,
unless that rain comes back and scuppers it.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
one day I’ll write a sonnet properly....

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Broad in the beam
not much of a looker
this crusty rust-bucket
of nuts screws and bolts
is a crabby old hooker
as luck would have it
dolled up trolling for supper
at any port in a storm
she still gives good service
tho' down on her uppers
now showing her years
deep in the scuppers
yet still on the game
fishing by night for a living
not to sully or bruise her good name
tho' one might unduly call her
a 'Cruiser'
this goodly vessel is truly a trawler
...

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FEBRUARY FIGHT IN THE NORTH  ATLANTIC  

Turning home with her hold half full,
Wind picks up  - raging,  all the more
Fierce in its intent to smash her hull
And plunge her deep to the seafloor.

Murderous mountains of watery salt
Filled with cold hatred inside
In their drenching ice-bound assault
Make  kamikaze charges along our side.

Snapping rime-heavy shrouds
Tumbling  the boat in the chill peril;
Overflowing scuppers foaming in anger loud,
As, engine screaming,  she regains her keel....

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