The Sailboat

A tremor stirs the sea
Amid the darkening skies:
The waters roil and seethe
Along distant shorelines.

In midst of dire storm
A small craft bobs along
The surface of the ocean
All tumult to defy.

Hardy, battered oars
Plunge headlong through the foam
As towering surf collides
With creaking oaken hull.

Will such small craft remain
When storm and wind subside?
Or shall the ship and crew
On ocean's floor reside?


This was the first poem I ever posted on a writing forum, over 3 years ago. I recall experimenting with different phrases, figuring how I wanted the mind to paint pictures, what I wanted the words to convey, and I was surprised I liked the finished product (clearly I still needed to improve my skills with metering, alas). The mind is a powerful animator, and one of my aims in writing is to help unlock that potential and communicate meaning to the reader.

Comments

  1. SusanFebruary 3, 2022 at 6:51 AM

    Just now I'm reading a book called, The Boys in the Boat. Your poem well describes their rowing experiences. Thanks!

    ReplyDelete

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