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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1655785
Rated: E · Poetry · Drama · #1655785
sometimes when I run my imagination composes tales...
Upon a lonely track I ran
one cold and foggy morning,
when this thought came to me;
I could be sailing upon a distant sea,
treading the worn boards
of a long forgotten merchant ship.

My breath whistled,
a broken steamer's sound,
harsh to the ears,
harsh from broken lungs
as I plodded along.

Two more laps
in the misty morn'
came and went
as around me
the creaks and moans
of a barque called to me.

Out of the murkiness
she appeared,
hove to with her skeleton crew
manning iced ropes,
block and tackle screeching my name.

"Come sail, sail the sea,
come dine with me
upon the flesh
of the fallen.

Down here we are all immortal.
Down below the green foam
where many a good man
has been slipped,
we stay warm
wrapped in the 'Jack."


Nancy Bell was her name,
that once glorious vessel
now cast afloat in shame
after crew fed upon crew,
leaving bones and ghosts
to taunt me and you.

My respiration iced upon my scant beard
as my pace slowed to a walk,
"Away, away daemons and dreams!"
With fear and exertion
I could barely talk.

Shivering in dread
I turned my worn
sneakers toward home.
The dream was rent,
sailcloth fell from my eyes
and I was once again
a lone man plodding along.

Upon a lonely track I ran
one cold and foggy morning
when this thought come to me;
I could be sailing upon a distant sea,
treading the worn boards
of a long forgotten merchant ship.



Based losely upon the following poem:

http://www.jsward.com/shanty/poems/NancyBell.html
© Copyright 2010 Lou-Here By His Grace (tattsnteeth2 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1655785