I'm doing 39 things
Ok, here’s my poem, please tell me what you think.
The ship
The beach breeze skips the dunes about on the fair isle.
The sliding sea rips away at the parchment sand,
with a cool edge, skating back and forth.
We wade a walk along, through the light, warm air.
Our shoes left miles behind,
high on the twilight cliff.
A sky quilt streaked with clouds,
patched with a concourse of colours.
The smoothest horizon,
like the groove between the pages of a book,
between the ocean and the sky.
The tiniest of specks appears on the distant straight.
A boat, growing closer. A ship.
A handful of thrill, fills all my body,
and you too hold my hand a little tighter.
Plain to see now, the shape of many sails.
A great wooden vessel carving its course,
sparkling wash in the dusk sun.
A tinkling and a hum rise above the sound of the waves.
A chant to match the flag,
crossed swords beneath a skull, white on black.
A pirate flag.
A pirate chant begins.
© Copyright 2006, Patrick Miller.
