These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Becalmed

Rudderless on the glassy sea,
though rudder I've, that waits for use.
"Assail these sails, Dear Windless Sky!"
My thoughts of home all wearied be.
The crimson skin of sun's abuse
doth fairly cause a raspy cry.

The winds of change find not my barque.
Hopes of bookish writing's stilled.
Growing clouds pique winds to come.
Sadness fills as startings park,
writing's lull from all I've willed,
interest dies as do the sums.

One lone breath wipes a crusty tear,
while my parched heart, and breathless soul
find new strength to work anew.
Cloudless day brings cloudy fear.
Wind comes soft, then gale-strength whole
as poet's sail knows hope renewed.

line count: 18
poetry form: iambic tetrameter sestets (with variations)
prompt number: 1 (February 1st, 2026)

by Jay O’Toole
on February 19th, 2026