Sailor’s Hymn To A Friend

Eyes watery as the vista yonder,
salt sting tears scouring this face.
A month from shore and time to ponder
how whalers live with Davy Jones’ grace.

Inside pocket, oilskin pouch, old familiar,
though faceless friend. Sanity’s saviour.
Oh calabash of burn-baked briar,
grant me moments in your favour.

Skipper of this ship I be,
through oceans furious black and periled.
Commander of my peace art thee,
when siren song our name doth herald.

Leviathan treasure, of which we seek,
affords a fearful price.
Blubber, baleen and ambergris,
gambled on casts of Poseidon’s dice.

And what of those, the hands I’ve lost.
Stray dogs never found.
The sea is cruel, but thou art just.
Sing turn about, be homeward bound.

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1 Comment on "Sailor’s Hymn To A Friend"

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A true poet Rob. I enjoy the flair you have with words a lovely poem I could
almost smell the sea and hear the gulls but instead I heard a lost voice.?
a searching for maybe a better way???


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