Baku and the Swedish cook
It sounds impossible, but 72 years ago, I was
a galley-boy on an old tank ship loading
oil for Iceland, a country with watery beer
Baku, I remember the long avenue, empty
of people and poorly lit.
The cook and I had gone ashore, and we were
the only one who dared me, because I had
not been brainwashed, and the cook who
was Swedish, Stige Hellander, his name, and
a communist
There was a party somewhere near the men
Who wore a double-breasted suit to grow in
and padded shoulder, making them look odd
Oh, yes, they were party functionaries
Stige, the cook, enjoyed himself with free vodka.
They put it in a corner with a bottle of milk
and bars of chocolate, until it was time to go
back onboard, Stige, the cook, sang rude songs
Now, seventy-two years later, I learn that Baku
is not in Russia
Categories:
tank ship, age, allah, allusion, america,
Form: ABC
Assassination of President Kennedy
The tank ship was on the way to Kingston in Jamaica
The sea was deep blue, the weather calm, In a few hours, we could stretch our legs and have a beer because the ship was dry, the charter in Houston, Texas, had insisted on this.
The radio operator came down and said “Kennedy had been shot and killed.”
There were shocked voices, was it true?
We all looked up to the president he, like us young and represented, the future and
now taken away.
Of course, we blamed the Russians
until news came and said the assassin was an American.
He Kennedy had stood up to Khrushchev and told him to leave Cuba.
Later, some of us understood that Mr. Khrushchev had saved
Kennedy and his hint of using nuclear force, what would he have done if Russia had not yielded?
We loved Kennedy, we saw him as a harbinger of better times when world leaders could talk and find peace.
I was young at the time and it was a good time to be young
Years later, I saw Walter Concrete in a recording announcing Kennedy's death, and he said it all.
Categories:
tank ship, africa, bangla, beach, body,
Form: Blank verse
A ship’s last voyage
The tank ship that looked like a schooner finally
made it from the black sea to Reykjavik in Iceland
The ship dry as the dust of the Sahara surrounded
by undrinkable water, the crew was eager to go
ashore and find a watering- hole selling beer.
Back then, Reykjavik was a dark town with few
streetlights and in the throes of temperance
There was no booze or wine, only watery beer that
was awful but in our situation better than nil.
The first café we came to was full of individuals
reading books in silence; we didn’t know Iceland
is a literate place everyone reads or write
books when not talking about literature but for
us it was a boring café we wanted fun and light.
We found a café selling beer, and the crew got
hold a bottle of homemade booze; in a country
where alcohol intake is restricted, people make
their own wine or liquor.
The voyage had been long and arduous; the ship
and her captain had survived the war and hoped
their voyage would last forever; it didn’t last
Of all ironies, the ship returned to Odessa and sold
as scrap iron.
Categories:
tank ship, best friend, devotion, integrity,
Form: Blank verse
68 years ago
68 years ago, I was onboard the world's oldest tank ship
wooden decks and looking like a sailing ship more than
a tanker in the Black Sea on the way to Odesa.
The sea had ice flakes, fishing vessels got stuck, and a Russian
minesweeper was on its way to help it was painted dark
blue and red; the sky was slightly overcast.
What I remember best was the silence, no TV. no noise
from constant communication in the cold air, above all
no mobile phones had yet to intrude.
Now, ships loaded with grain follow a mine-free lane
on the way to the Dardanelles for inspection by men
in uniform before heading for Africa.
Not destined for the famished population, not yet
the grain is stored in gigantic silos by trying governments
distributed by them at an inflated price, the poor
cannot afford the starvation continues unabated.
We have been here before, in the winter of 1949, people
froze to death when fishing and fell like nine pins when
spring came; few families had any furniture left.
68 years ago, I recall the unmoving stillness, now
there is a cacophony of angry voices protesting against
the burden they are asked to carry for our leaders.
Categories:
tank ship, books, conflict, devotion, history,
Form: Blank verse
Voyaging
The high seas and the battle for a meaning
of life, not on a ship that runs on routine.
The Panama Canal, have I been there once
not sure, I vaguely remember a tank ship
pulled by trains; I might be erroneous.
A miniature community of lost people
changing the clock one hour forward
or one hour back, the time disappears.
No escape gaping emotional exposed
and the roar of sea-lions
Sanctuary is a tamper-proof cabin door
reading books to combat the tediousness
of being
Will the ship ever reach a safe haven?
Categories:
tank ship, animal, anniversary, evil,
Form: Sonnet
Agoraphobia
Voyaging from Cuba to South Korea across the Pacific
takes about three weeks on an old freighter, but we knew
it had a beginning and an ending.
We have been held up in our flat for three weeks with
no ending in sight, next week it is said or perhaps the week
after that, if we are indoors long, we will get agoraphobia
and unable to leave the flat
Fearful of the world outside full of people and automobiles
agoraphobia is not a joke I have suffered from it on and off.
Once I stayed on board a tank ship for six months not leaving
the ship once I was saving money for further education
I needed help to walk down the gangway.
Once in Liverpool, I had another attack unable to leave the house
but I got help by a psychologist who lured me on a bus trip,
he was going to wait for me after four stops; he wasn’t there
I had to walk home among a throng of people
So, it might happen again because I tended to prefer
loneliness.
Categories:
tank ship, 5th grade, celebrity, devotion,
Form: Blank verse
The Cow
By the edge of the cliff where the grass is juicy
the cow tried to eat it all the last straw you can say
alas, it tipped over and fell into the sea
and since happened in Dover, it swam to Holland
and joined the Dutch cattle.
This was a good solution till the cow demanded
special privileges such as imported Dover grass,
when it didn`t get it will, it swam back.
On the way across the channel, it was run over
by a Panamanian registered tank-ship.
Children had to go to school hungry no sausages
or milk for breakfast.
The ship, the farmer (not setting up a fence) and
the Dutch got the blame, this wouldn`t have happened
if we had let, the cow gets its own way.
Categories:
tank ship, beach, boat, community,
Form: Blank verse
The Merchant seafarers` war
When world war two started Norway was
neutral but unsure which side to stay on.
The English thought occupying Norway
but they were too late the German army had
done the occupation.
The British sent a ragtag military force to Norway
trying to cut the country in half to stop further
advances but were told to pull out.
Norway had at this point a big merchant fleet
It was sequestrated and used bring good and weapon
for the allies.
This left thousands of seamen nowhere
to go those go tried to flee was arrested and sent
back as crew members of any merchant ship.
They the crew lived under a constant pressure
(one out of ten) never made it home can you imagine
how they year after year lived in constant fear
a tank ship full high octane for planes with the enemy
U-boats lurking about. When the war ended and
they could go home they were treated with indifference
like shirkers who had avoided the war.
These seafarers where heroes of the highest order
but the government ignored them, they let down the pride
of Norway, one can say without them the war might
have lasted much longer
Categories:
tank ship, absence, deep, devotion,
Form: Blank verse
Who is a Prisoner Now
My back yard has high walls and is like sun trap, I sit here and
get a tan in winters... the walls, cracked, need a lick of paint.
I can see a map of Europe, lakes, rivers and open plains
where wolves roam and hunt elk, and man shot wolves.
The map changes I now see the Caribbean and the Islands
dotted about. When I was on a small tank ship years ago I had
a chance to go ashore, visit and explore most of the Islands
.... mainly I fear, my interest was to meet lovely girls, of what
these Islands have many, and with a few of them swam in
crystal clear waters of innocence. I also had the sense to see
those pearls of Islands in early morning haze.
So many years ago, yet I remember Teresa, in Curacao, and that
is a great recall, as the Island itself is rather flat and has little
to offer of beauty, its only claim to fame is a big oil refinery and
the largest camp of prostitutes I have ever seen. Anyway the sun is
setting and shadows erase my map, time to go in and lit the fire,
but reminiscence of a time gone by lingers.
Categories:
tank ship, basketball, beach, beauty,
Form: Blank verse
Fifty Years Ago a Dedication
It was nice day in the Caribbean Sea I was on
a small tank ship called “Saphir” a radio message
the president Kennedy had been assassinated.
Deep silence in the mess hall, because he was
to use a modern vernacular: The Man.
He was the one who could lead us into a bright
future, he energized us and, our trusted brother;
and nothing could go wrong on his watch.
So who was this slayer? The ogre that had killed
our hero? We were soon to know, a weak chinned
misfit called Oswald. There has been conspiracy
theories aplenty over the years, but I still think
Oswald acted alone out of envy and dark hatred;
a loser seeking infamy, to prove something only
his dark mind could understand.
50 years have gone the players are dead or old
but president Kennedy will forever be a beacon
of light for us who loved America.
Categories:
tank ship, dedication, devotion,
Form: Blank verse
The Nature of Success.
On an old tank ship that was so slow it felt as
we were suspended in time, a world shrunk
only us the ocean and the rhythmic hear beat
of the engine… and when the ship birthed, at
some god forsaken refinery, we felt overcome
by shyness seeing so many strange faces.
It was on a ship like this I met the third officer
a young man with literary ambitions, and he
succeeded on Norway´s modest literary tree.
Often interviewed, asked awkward questions
about writing and why he writes like it should
be a hidden formula.
I´m glad for his triumph, yet there is a sting in
my heart, not of rancor, but of sadness…never
having received the clarion call of acceptance.
Collections after collections have been rejected.
I feel as I have been suspended in a fool´s time,
only the sea and me and the shore is far away.
Categories:
tank ship, adventure, depression, education, introspection,
Form: Ode
Away From the Camera.
In the Bay of Bengal, near Tripura, a tank ship ran
aground, an old ship that had been economical for
its owner, carrying crude for a hungry west and
crewed by low paid seamen. And she was sold to
the people who would tear ships apart, like French
avant-garde butchers with hearts of frozen rocks.
Squall in the bay, the ship broke anchor and, like
a horse that seeks grassland, she sought high seas.
Alas she had oil onboard must be caught before spill
washed on sandy shore. Cowboy tugboats rode out
lassoed the old lady back to the place of destruction.
It is in the Bay of Bengal the infidel drowned Bin Laden,
in moonlight his coffin is a silvery specter in the bay.
It drifted to shores of New Jersey, on the voyage made
a devil´s pact with sandy storm; revenge for those who
dare laugh in the face of Islam. For her crew this meant
little, but pale memories of peace when dolphins played
on cobalt sea, and grown men had hearts of poetry.
Categories:
tank ship, fantasy, old, old,
Form: Blank verse